tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67738824364503185862024-03-14T01:17:37.602-04:00Liana's Place -- A blog about Life, Lies, Laughter and LoveLife is a Journey
I invite you to share mine.
A blog about what’s important to me.Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-71946802015779602032015-08-20T10:49:00.000-04:002016-02-14T10:52:55.196-05:00PMDD and RelationshipsOn sale now for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0115PVLNS">Kindle at
Amazon.</a> Introductory price of $4.99. Click on the cover to take
you to the link. Available at for Nook and <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/557756">Smashwords </a>as
well. Also <a href="http://tinyurl.com/nvoqgjm">available in print at Amazon </a>for $11.99. Over 220
pages of understanding what it's like to be in a relationship when you have PMDD.<br />
<br />
PMDD doesn't do normal, but every woman who lives the monthly nightmare that
is Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder deserves to have strong, true, and lasting
relationships, just like her non-PMDD enduring friends. Based on the
most-read posts in the blog <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Living on a Prayer,
Living with PMDD</i>, this book is for people in difficult relationships and
focuses on how to deal with a loved one's PMDD. <br />
<br />
Written with chapters for both the woman trying to cope with her PMDD, and
her partner, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">PMDD
and Relationships</i> fills a need for understanding and hope.
Understanding of this often debilitating disorder that affects 3 - 8% of
menstruating women, and hope for a normal life with friends and family.<br />
<br />
Topics include how to develop a network of support and encouragement, and
how to enjoy deep and abiding relationships in the midst of hormonal chaos.
You are not alone, and there is no reason for you to stay alone unless you
choose to. Even then, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">PMDD and
Relationships</i> can help you to deal with your PMDD and the world around you
in a way that brings renewed joy into the life you were meant to live.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXdb8JHJM0ubzLsHhB7hkU1ifOgKogk4DJHrqhrTG18CUmELUAz7Xnr_lkKq7sEkTkVX76mWdC41wUbPs5NcDs4eISNEMN4Y2_BWiEHwgo-5DNzO3p7w31Qs0XZC_wdttp8UzmA7bwkM/s1600/LivingwithPMDD_LOP2_300+%25282%2529.jpg" /><a href="http://tinyurl.com/nvoqgjm">Link to Amazon</a></div>
Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-14275420870947208252012-03-23T07:37:00.005-04:002012-03-23T08:04:32.924-04:00A Gift of Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCbYnngVFruSclfyoAwZ8a4_n_SDwmy0n34uzMnPQg6CWWet2IcdB-tsA9RXgmL-qN-Ktb_KewXkZxoCUyBlwO1CpxMSGlFc-WTji2SQdTI1DbT1BvyHsX4S3cENRN2FQIdbEV6jZHNI/s1600/Special+Flowers+018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 176px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCbYnngVFruSclfyoAwZ8a4_n_SDwmy0n34uzMnPQg6CWWet2IcdB-tsA9RXgmL-qN-Ktb_KewXkZxoCUyBlwO1CpxMSGlFc-WTji2SQdTI1DbT1BvyHsX4S3cENRN2FQIdbEV6jZHNI/s320/Special+Flowers+018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723056545845658066" /></a><br />The last night of our Lenten women's speakers series at church was so powerful I don't know where to begin. It will take at least two blog posts to relay all that happened. Unfortunately, due to neck and shoulder issues, I need to limit my time at the computer, so will not be able to write either of those posts today.<div><br /></div><div>But I do want to share one thing. The series, as you know, was about sharing your voice, leaving your legacy. And so I'd like to share this story that was told to us last night.</div><div><br /></div><div>A woman was dying, and had been ill for some time. She told her daughter of some money she had stashed away in purse in a drawer, and said she wanted her daughter to have it. Several times over, s<span style="font-size: 100%; ">he urged her daughter to go and get it. Her daughter refused, insisting the mother would recover and would need the money for herself. </span></div><div><br /></div><div>The mother continued to insist, until her daughter finally relented. This past Sunday, the mother passed away. Her daughter took the money and used it to buy dozens of roses--enough to give one to every woman who attended the presentation last night. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is a picture of mine. </div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-36430572732709255422012-03-16T09:19:00.005-04:002012-03-16T09:40:19.327-04:00The Voices of Our Past -- And Present<p class="MsoNormal">Last night’s theme in the <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2012/03/give-voice-to-your-heart.html">Women’s Lenten Speaker Series I'm attending</a> was “The Voices of Our Past.” On the altar was an elegant display of framed photographs of the mothers and grandmothers of the women who are putting on <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/04/rediscovering-feminine-face-of-god.html">what has become an annual program at our church. </a> The speakers encouraged us to honor the voices of our past, the words and actions of strong and wise women both in our own families and experience, as well as public figures who have shaped our lives, for, as women, we collectively stand on the shoulders of all those who have come before us. Our presenters spoke of the faith of <a href="http://www.womeninthebible.net/2.8.Samaritan_woman.htm">The Samaritan Woman</a>, and <a href="http://www.distinguishedwomen.com/biographies/joanarc.html">Joan of Arc.</a> Our special guest speaker was a woman who, because of traumatic events in her childhood, descended into promiscuity, drug and alcohol abuse, a series of abusive relationships, and crime. She gave birth to her third child while incarcerated, and while hemorrhaging in her cell, cried out to God…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And He answered.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">With the help of two special women in her life, she has now been clean for over four years, has reunited with her family, has put her life back together, and now works as a staff member in one of the halfway houses she lived in when she was released from prison.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">None of which she could have accomplished without her faith that God was (and is to this day) with her every step of the way.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Also during the program, we were invited to proceed down to the altar, where a basket full of cards, much like graduation announcements, waited.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">On the cover are the words, </span><b style="font-size: 100%; ">May your Voice shine bright like the prism of your heart</b><span style="font-size: 100%; ">.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">We were to select a card from the basket that would hold inside a name of significance in our lives.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">As we processed, our guest speaker played a soothing, almost haunting melody on the organ, which we later learned she herself had composed.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Music, we later discovered, was what had helped her to process all of the pain and trauma and negative emotions in her life, and brought her back to the joy of living.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Apparently the two women from our church, both involved in prison ministry, had plopped a keyboard down in front of her and told her to give voice to the music inside her as part of her healing.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And what beautiful music it was, reminiscent to me of the peace and joy and majesty of Pachelbel’s Canon, a timeless favorite of some of the happiest women in the world--brides.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">So each of us chose a card from the basket, a card which contained a name inside especially meant for the woman who chose it as a message from God.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I watched the women’s faces as they left the altar, without exception opening the card and reading the name inside.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Some smiled, some frowned, some looked confused, and others laughed, as the meaning hit home.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">As for me, I waited until I had found my seat in the sacred space where we gathered in silence to hear our speakers before opening mine, feeling somewhat curious, somewhat apprehensive, and yes, somewhat skeptical.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">But when I opened my card, I shook and nearly cried.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">The name I had chosen was Hannah.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I couldn’t believe it.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">My first thought was God was letting me know He knew me and heard my prayers.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">For Hannah was the name I had chosen over eighteen years ago for my child had he been born a girl.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">No one knew that but me.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Since we were also asked to reflect on the meaning of the name we selected, I did so, and the words that came to me were “The Hannah Project,” presented as a link in the sidebar of my PMDD site.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">That meant to me that I have yet to give birth to another creation, this one a feminine creation, of and pertaining to women, since the overall theme of this speaker series is Give Voice to Your Heart so that others may benefit from your wisdom and caring and be heard as well.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Over the past two years, <a href="http://livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/2011/03/pmdd-they-only-see-our-failures.html">my PMDD site </a>has done just that.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I have spoken from the heart, have told my story, and in doing so have told the story of countless other women, many of whom, after reading my PMDD blog, for the first time in their lives feel understood.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Through my writing, I am giving them a voice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">The significance of this name became even more apparent to me as we dimmed the lights, and one by one each woman read aloud the name on her card.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I’d say 95% of the names were either historical figures, women in politics past and present, social justice advocates, and/or celebrities.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><st1:place st="on" style="font-size: 100%; ">Queens</st1:place><span style="font-size: 100%; "> and slaves and martyrs and saints.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Only a handful came from the Bible.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Not because they weren’t there, but because they weren’t selected.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">There were more than enough cards in the basket for every woman there, maybe twice as many as the women there.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">But only a handful of the names called out were from the Bible.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And mine was one of them.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And mine was Hannah.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">The only other name I would have interpreted to mean that God “knew” me, that God heard my voice, was Grace, as my beloved cat Grace recently passed away unexpectedly, having developed fluid in her lungs within the space of three days.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">This morning I discovered that the name Hannah derives from the Hebrew word Grace.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">If you think God doesn’t know you, doesn’t hear you, doesn’t love you…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Think again.</span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-59944454300762088592012-03-10T09:19:00.005-05:002012-03-10T09:33:32.548-05:00The Voice of Your Story<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; "><span ><i><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; ">As you begin to pay attention to your own stories and what they say about you, you will enter into the exciting process of becoming, as you should be, the author of your own life, the creator of your own possibilities. </span></i><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; ">~Mandy Aftel, natural perfumer and author of three books on perfume </span></span><span style="font-style: normal; "><span ><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>A human being is nothing but a story with skin around it. </i>~Fred Allen, comedian and radio personality </span><br /><br /><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>T</i></span><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>here is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. </i></span><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; ">~Dr. Maya Angelou, Global Renaissance Woman<b> </b></span><br /><br /><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>Most people live and die with their music still unplayed. They never dare to try.</i></span><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "> ~Mary Kay Ash, founder of Mary Kay Cosmetics </span><br /><br /><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it. ~</i></span><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; ">J.M. Barrie, author of </span><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "><i>Peter Pan </i><span ><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">This week’s topic at “The Woman Within” Lenten speaker series at my church was The Voice of Your Story, or how important it is to give voice to our stories.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">To not let them die with us or within us.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">We heard the story of Anna in the bible and of <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/aia/part4/4p1535.html">Harriet Tubman</a> of the Underground Railroad.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">We had a lovely 82-year-old speaker who told us stories about growing up with her grandmother, and how the self-reliance and wisdom her grandmother taught her was what sustained her through many a rough time in her life.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">In short, she gave voice to her story.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">During the program I realized I have already begun giving voice to my story, through my books, this blog, and <a href="http://www.livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/">my PMDD blog</a>.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">Mostly through the PMDD blog.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">What the evening did was let me know I am on the right track, and inspire me to get moving again on my PMDD book, so that I can get it out there for others to read and try to understand the baffling phenomenon that is PMDD.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">By telling my story, I will help others to understand theirs.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">To that end, I’ve spent a good part of the week researching all sorts of aspects of PMDD, so that my information can be as up to date as possible.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">Other than that, things are rolling along as well as can be expected for a woman with too many things to do and not enough time to fit them all in </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">:)</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 100%; ">But our Lenten women’s speaker series is something I do for me, March once again having been declared “Me” month, where I only do things that nourish me mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Because of that, I know that by Easter and the Resurrection I will have a renewed focus on my life and projects and goals for the year, and will be ready to move in whatever direction God moves me to go in.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-70245514127972612992012-03-02T10:37:00.007-05:002013-02-25T08:03:54.406-05:00Give Voice To Your HeartThat is the theme of this year’s <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/04/rediscovering-feminine-face-of-god.html">“The Woman Within” Lenten speaker series at my church</a>. It’s the fourth year of this program and this year will run for four weeks. Last night we, as women, were encouraged to give voice to what is in our hearts, and so I thought what better time to start blogging again? I know, I know, I’ve had a couple of false starts already, but this is Lent, and therefore a time to make changes for the good. <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-motto-for-lentjust-say-no.html">The results of last year’s Lenten changes have been phenomenal,</a> and turned my life upside down.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">Last year at this time, I was a total workaholic.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Anytime someone asked me what I was doing, “working” was the answer.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">That and keeping up with my son’s schedule.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Making sure he got to where he needed to be when he needed to be there.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">In short, he was the one with the life, not me.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">I knew something had to change, or one day he would grow up and be gone, and I’d be left home with the cats, still working all the time.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>
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I’d already unwittingly started in on my plan for change, as a blog post I wrote in June of 2010 entitled <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/06/theres-no-excuse-for-being-bored.html" style="font-style: normal;">“There’s No Excuse for Being Bored” </a>morphed into an article published last <a href="http://www.faithcatholicdigital.com/archive/?p2=3239&p1=5879&z=1&b=FFFFFF&a=1&cs=1&mc=000000&ic=000000" style="font-style: normal;">January in my diocese’s </a><a href="http://www.faithcatholicdigital.com/archive/?p2=3239&p1=5879&z=1&b=FFFFFF&a=1&cs=1&mc=000000&ic=000000"><i>Faith Magazine</i></a> (click on January/February 2011 issue, pages 8 and 9). In it, I listed a host of activities offered through the church bulletin, church newspaper, and <i>Faith Magazine</i>, and basically said that life is out there, waiting, for anyone who chooses to participate. <i>Life is Out There...Waiting!</i> was in fact the title of the article.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">With that thought in mind, I began to craft a new life for myself, one full of fun, friends, and all sorts of social activities.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">But it wasn’t enough.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">I was out and about, having fun, but wanted someone special to share that fun with.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">So in July of 2010 I took the leap and joined an online dating site.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-motto-for-lentjust-say-no.html">Nine months and maybe a dozen dead end conversations later, </a>I had a file folder full of notes and information on how dating sites do and don’t work (no experience is ever wasted when you’re a writer), but still no partner.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">In March, I decided to give up that ghost and concentrate on Me.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/03/hodgepodge-of-catching-up.html">March, I eventually declared in my blog posts, was “Me” month.</a></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">For the month of March, I would focus only on what nourished me--mentally, physically, and spiritually.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">I’d read more books, pray more, exercise more, clear the clutter in my home and life, attend only lectures and events that spoke to me personally, and in general just be good to myself.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2011/04/resurrection-gives-my-life-meaning-and.html">To that end, I added a third Qigong class to my week, this one held on Sunday mornings.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">Qigong is something I’ve been interested in for more than a decade, but somehow never made the time for.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">Finally, I joined a class taught clear across town.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">My friends were amazed.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">You go to class <i>where?</i></span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">For the previous 24 years I’d pretty much limited myself to local activities held on my side of town, or within a very limited driving distance (my occasional trips to out-of-town conferences and such notwithstanding.)</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Suddenly I was driving across town three times a week, meeting new people, and making friends outside my comfort zone.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Then, lo and behold, one Sunday morning, in walks this man, who, unbeknownst to me, fit the section of my online dating profile headed “What I am Looking For” to a tee.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Three months later several students from our class headed to </span><st1:place st="on" style="font-size: 100%;"><st1:city st="on">Niagara Falls</st1:city></st1:place><span style="font-size: 100%;"> for a Tai Chi workshop (<a href="http://www.qigonginstitute.org/main_page/main_page.php">Tai Chi being a form of Qigong</a>), and the two of us just “clicked.”</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">We’ve been seeing each other ever since.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Which is one reason why my blogging fell off.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Instead of working all the time, I now focus on work during the weekdays, and spend my evenings and weekends tootling around with him.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We go to class, go to church, go to concerts, car shows, festivals, dances, dinners, games, and wine tastings.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We take trips, and have been to </span><st1:country-region st="on" style="font-size: 100%;">Canada</st1:country-region><span style="font-size: 100%;">, </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;">Michigan</st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">, </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;">West Virginia</st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">, </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;">Maryland</st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">, </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;">Ohio</st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">, and </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;"><st1:place st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We flew to </span><st1:state st="on" style="font-size: 100%;"><st1:place st="on">South Dakota</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-size: 100%;">, visited the <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/07/national-music-museum-national-treasure.html">National Music Museum.</a></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/07/national-music-museum-national-treasure.html"> </a> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We’re headed to </span><st1:place st="on" style="font-size: 100%;"><st1:state st="on">Texas</st1:state></st1:place><span style="font-size: 100%;">, next.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">In between trips, we trundle around town taking care of errands and visiting friends.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We collect recipes, go grocery shopping, and cook. </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We watch movies and <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/10/feeding-homeless-shift-in-warehouse.html">volunteer for community service </a>together.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We attend all my son’s special activities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">But none of this would have happened if I hadn’t given voice to my heart.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;">My heart felt a lack, and so I did something about it.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Through my article in <i>Faith Magazine </i>I put it out there, into the universe, that there was no excuse for being lonely or bored, and then, though my online dating profile, I put it out there what I was looking for.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">I spoke from the heart, and my voice was heard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">So today’s question is: What is your voice telling you?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Is there a lack in your life?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">What is it you need to bring you closer to being the person you want to be?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More time in prayer?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More exercise?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More “Me” time?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More family time?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More social activities?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">More active involvement in your church or community?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">I seriously doubt it’s “More work.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Take time out this week to be still and listen to that voice within.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">They say peace and contentment comes when the person you are and the person you want to be are one and the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Who are you?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Who do you want to be?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Even if you’re not Catholic, like I am, Lent--or spring, if you prefer--is a good time of year, a time of rebirth and renewal, to take time out to consider these questions and--either by your actions, or through your words, or both--give voice to your heart.</span></div>
Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-6472926314181237052011-12-13T11:19:00.003-05:002011-12-13T11:41:01.134-05:00Guest Author, LK Hunsaker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Bmtj-DGbVqTsUqyKbRHfkXCkQApMkuA20N_t6BAOY-vPI7Z9ZrO90TxdtJAUDhtErkrc4jRKSN8iEcmC3qf34Gn1Y0O5HMSZtI9E8JV1FIylsRUkOWJOy_drm-2_GCDpmQgTK_O-Tt0/s1600/M%2526T-S%2526S72-5in.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Bmtj-DGbVqTsUqyKbRHfkXCkQApMkuA20N_t6BAOY-vPI7Z9ZrO90TxdtJAUDhtErkrc4jRKSN8iEcmC3qf34Gn1Y0O5HMSZtI9E8JV1FIylsRUkOWJOy_drm-2_GCDpmQgTK_O-Tt0/s320/M%2526T-S%2526S72-5in.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685652569925536754" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman""><b>Today's guest is <a href="http://www.lkhunsaker.com/">LK Hunsaker</a>, friend and fellow author whom I plan to kidnap one day and take with me to a writer's conference, preferably somewhere warm. Until then, we'll just have to find our "steam" in our writing, LOL. LK makes a great point, in that who we are as people is not necessarily reflected in our characters -- more often we write about who we wish we were, or wish we could be...or take the best (and maybe sometimes the worst) characteristics of those around us and bring them to life...but that's the beauty of writing...we can make our characters be anyone we want them to be. And LK has some special characters she wants to share with us today, characters sharing a very special moment, exploring the power and beauty of human touch, so sit back and enjoy. I know after reading this and other excerpts from<i> Moondrops & Thistles,</i> this exceptional story has moved to the top of my TBR pile. Welcome, LK!</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Hello Liana! It’s so nice to come and play today. :-)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">While I was trying to come up with something decently creative to post here that I haven’t already said or answered, one of the followers for my blog contest in relation to the tour had a suggestion of a possible topic of discussion:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“I'm waiting for you to reveal something about what inspires you to write the "steamy" parts!”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Now granted, my steamy parts (and I do mean in my books) are not all that steamy. I’m more an inward-looking psychological writer. I’m more mental than touch-feely and to tell the truth, I’m not big on hugs, personally. I have characters who love hugs. And I do like virtual hugs because it sometimes is the thought that counts! And that’s where my steamy parts come in.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">How many of you have caught view of the “perfect” man or woman, visually perfect according to your personal taste, and wondered what it would be like to actually touch that person’s face? Has anyone not ever done that? Yes, it’s okay if you’re in a permanent relationship and still do it. From my psych training I fully remember that fantasy is a perfectly normal and very healthy part of life, whatever your status. It can even improve your long-term marriage to fantasize. It’s good for you! It can also be good for your partner, because let’s face it, when you’re happier, your partner is likely to be happier.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">I’ve read author interviews where the writer says her heroes are based on her husband. I find it incredibly sweet. I also find it a little too personal for me. Nope, I might grab a few of my husband’s personality traits, such as with Daws and his ability to handle any job that’s thrown at him, which has always had my unfailing admiration, but when it comes to the steamy stuff ... that stays separate.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">My personal life and my work are both joined and separate. My fiction is me and yet it’s not.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">The steamy parts come from basic biology and the fact that touch is an incredible adrenaline rush as well as a mental stabilizer.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Wow, did I just throw ice on the whole romance writing thing? Okay, so it comes from when I read a tender scene or watch one in a movie or see that “perfect” type somewhere and feel the mental rush of possibility, of pulse racing, of “what if,” of how it would feel to touch his face, just once of course. Yes, face touching is prevalent in my books. Sometimes it goes beyond that.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">In real life, I would never touch a strange man’s face, regardless of how perfect he is physically. That’s where fiction comes in. Fantasy is healthy. Why else would romance be the #1 best selling genre year after year?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">I hope Liana won’t mind that I got so steamy on her blog, but it is appropriate, since she was kind enough to read through my first real love scene, written for </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Moondrops & Thistles: shorter & spicier edition</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">, and okay it before it went out.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">I’m going to leave you with a lead in to that scene. Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook of </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Moondrops</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "> short & spicy! And go to my blog next for a chance to win the full print version, personally signed, plus a transforming mug with the cover art, and a Support Our Troops bracelet: </span><a href="http://lkhunsaker.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">http://lkhunsaker.blogspot.com</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Moondrops & Thistles: shorter & spicier edition</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"">LK Hunsaker<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Excerpt:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:110%;font-family:"Times New Roman"">“What do they do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">She sighed again. “Mom is the typical homemaker who doesn’t do anything but that. I used to try to get her to do anything else, pick up a craft, play cards with the girls, something. She would never do it. I think because Dad doesn’t want her to do anything else. Can’t tell you how much I resented that she’d let him run her life that way.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Daws nodded to himself. Made sense. Explained her insistence about being independent, not allowing him to “take charge” as though he might want to. “What does he do?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Oh. He lays floors. Or used to. He’s retired now. He also did some cement work. Things like that. And he took care of animals now and then. That changed with the year. We had chickens for a while, goats, turkeys, peacocks that made the most dreadful noise, and a couple of horses he tried to breed but they didn’t seem to like each other much.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">He chuckled. “Man of many interests.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Man who couldn’t commit to one thing. Drove Mom crazy.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“And you.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">She looked up at him, questioning.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“That why you’re determined to stick this job out, like it or not?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“No.” She turned her eyes forward again, down at the sidewalk. “I’m sticking it out because it’s the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything in the world and I’m not willing to let go of the chance only because a few morons try to stop me.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">By the tone of her voice, Daws decided it was again time to route around. “Have siblings?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“A few. And I don’t want to try to explain them so how about we let that go?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Okay.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“You’re offended now.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Not at all.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">"You sound like you are.” She stopped and faced him. “I left all that behind on purpose. It’s no longer part of me. Of my life. Any more than yours seems to be.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">He studied her eyes. So firm, resolved. Of course she had to know better. Your family roots weren’t ever fully left behind. His weren’t, regardless of how he tried. They never would be. Not enough. “I’m sorry you felt you had to put it behind you.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Yeah. Well, it happens.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Daws raised a hand to her face. “If you ever decide you want to talk about it, I’m always willing to listen. But I’ll understand if you don’t.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Will you tell me more about yours?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Nothing much more to say about mine.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“I don’t think I believe that, but I’ll give you the same offer.” Deanna brushed his lips, hinting. “Ready to go in yet or are you still afraid of me?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Yes.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“To which?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Both.” With a quick grin, he led her to his building and walked her up the stairs.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:110%;font-family:"Times New Roman"">As she settled in, he pulled out two hard lemonades and took them to the couch where she sat with bare feet pulled to her side. Deanna accepted one of the bottles, looked at it quizzically, and peered into his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Am I right?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“How did you know? Did I slip up and tell you?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">He gave her another grin, took a long swallow, and rubbed a hand over her shoulder with a light massage.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Guess it’s true.” She returned the favor by caressing his leg.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“What’s true?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“You’re not bothered by feet. At least by my bare feet on your couch.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">He caught her eyes as he took another swallow, and set the drink out of his way. “Are you ticklish?” At her raised eyebrows, he clarified. “Your feet.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“No.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Daws slid his hands around the leg she had resting atop the other and coerced it gently until her knee bent upward and her foot rested against his leg. He soothed a hand over top. “Can’t imagine anyone bothered by them.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Well, it’s not very classy, I guess, to run around the house with bare feet. Not sure why it isn’t since they are clean...” She broke off as he began to massage her foot.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">He watched her face to be sure it didn’t tickle and he wasn’t too rough. Her eyes closed, her head dropped back, and her expression ... made his body tighten. It took little encouragement to get her to shift to the end of the couch, allowing access to both feet. And she pried her lemonade between her thighs for security, to prevent spilling it as her body loosened, relaxed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“That feels incredible.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">“Does it?” He pressed his thumbs up the middle of her feet, watched her breasts rise as her shoulders arched back. The buttons of her blouse pulled against their holes. Her fingers gripped the edge of his couch.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in;line-height:110%;mso-pagination:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">Suddenly, she pulled away, put her bottle on the table, and pressed in against him, her mouth to his, arms around his neck. He tasted the lemonade on her tongue, felt her breasts surge with her breaths. He circled her small waist and encouraged her closer. It took little encouragement. She was fire. Bright. Hot. Piercing his armor of what he thought was thick as Kevlar. She was proving how wrong he was. It wasn’t Kevlar. It was aluminum. Durable. But not unbendable.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in">Buy Link:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31804">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31804</a><br />(shorter and spicier edition)<br /><br /><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/71151">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/71151</a><br />(full edition, also at BN.com or at your local indie store from Indiebound.org) <span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman""><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-14595349706118524482011-11-16T07:28:00.003-05:002011-11-16T07:55:27.235-05:00Win With Number Sixteen on the 16th!Once again I'm participating in <a href="http://www.theromancereviews.com/event.php">The Romance Studio's Year End Splash Party, </a>this time giving away an autographed copy of my all-time favorite book to write, <a href="http://lianalaverentz.com/thinice.html">Thin Ice.</a> What better way to celebrate hockey season than with a copy of Eric and Emily's award-winning story about second chances? <div><br /></div><div>All you have to do is <a href="http://www.theromancereviews.com/event.php">answer question Number 16 </a> -- coincidentally today's date and Eric's number as captain of the Minneapolis Saints -- for your chance to win! In the meantime, here's an excerpt to give you a taste of what's in store for our soon-to-be family...Emily has finally given in to her eight-year-old son Robbie's fervent desire to play hockey and doesn't know where to begin to get him the equipment he needs. A not-so-chance meeting at a skating rink leads her to ask Eric for advice. With a big smile, he tells her he knows just where to go.<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">The door opened and a wiry black man in a blue plaid flannel shirt and jeans stepped back to admit them. “Eric, good to see you,” he said. “Your stuff came in Friday afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“Glad to hear it, but that’s not why I called. Sam, I’d like you to meet Emily Jordan and her son, Robbie.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Sam smiled in welcome. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jordan. Robbie. I was just making some coffee.” He turned and checked the pot. “It’s almost done. Anyone care for a cup?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Emily declined, but Eric accepted. After a brief pow-wow with Eric about the Saints’ chances for making the playoffs while the coffee finished brewing, Sam turned to Emily with a warm smile. “What can we do for you today, Ms. <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Jordan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, besides bore you with a lot of meaningless statistics?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“Meaningless?” From the sound of it they’d been discussing the team’s chances as intently as she’d consult with Augustus about a critically ill patient.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“Absolutely. Because no matter what the sports gurus say, the Saints are going all the way...and this guy right here is the one who’s going to take them.” He clapped Eric on the back, nearly sloshing the coffee Eric was staring into all over his front. “Yes ma’am, you’ve hooked up with a real champion here. Captain Cameron to the rescue.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">The light in the storefront was dim, but Emily would have sworn she saw Eric’s ears redden. “Emily doesn’t really follow the sport, Sam,” he said quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Sam looked at her in startled surprise, then back at Eric. “She doesn’t?” As if such a thing was inconceivable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“No, but Robbie does, and he’s joining the Mites League. I’d like you to set him up with the works.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“Sure. No problem. Got everything he needs right here. Top of the line.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Within minutes Robbie looked like a miniature gladiator. Emily felt a sharp pinch in her purse as the two men outfitted her son with layer upon layer of padding, the three of them conversing in a sports jargon she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Secure in the knowledge her son was in the hands of experts, she changed her mind about Sam’s offer of coffee and poured herself some.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">She cradled the styrofoam cup in her hands and strolled over to the window. Peering through the dusty horizontal blinds, she studied the Suburban. Five years old already when she’d bought it last year, it desperately needed a tune-up and new tires. That might have to wait again, now with Robbie’s newest expenses. Between paying off her school loans, Robbie’s tuition and helping out her family, she was pushing her financial limits to the wall. And with the cost of gas these days...<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">She sighed. There were times when she wished she didn’t have to drive such a big vehicle, but that was one phobia she couldn’t seem to get rid of. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">She turned away from the window and found Sam gone and Eric crouched before Robbie, testing the fit of his equipment. She sipped her coffee and felt the sting of tears as Robbie solemnly answered Eric’s quiet questions. What she wouldn’t give to have her family see Robbie right now. But home wasn’t somewhere she could ever go again. Not as long as her father was alive. She wondered how her mother was doing, if her health was holding up. It was times like this, when she felt closest to Robbie, that she missed her own mother the most.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Sam reappeared with a fistful of hockey sticks, a pair of black leather skates and a huge white jersey. As her son stood there in a pair of black padded pants that looked five sizes too big but apparently fit perfectly, Eric slid the suspenders up over Robbie’s shoulder pads, then dropped the huge jersey over his head. He asked Robbie to sit, then laced his skates. Only her son’s face and hands resembled anything close to an eight year old’s, and even that changed once Eric settled a hard red plastic helmet with a grid mask on Robbie’s head.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Eric adjusted the chinstrap, while Sam handed Robbie a huge pair of padded black gloves to try on. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“So, what do you think, Ms. <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Jordan</st1:place></st1:country-region>?” Sam asked, grinning.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Eric and Robbie looked her way, Robbie more still than Emily could remember him being while awake. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">“I think you look wonderful,” she told her son, her voice catching. “I can’t wait to see you in action.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:.3in;line-height:11.0pt;mso-line-height-rule:exactly;mso-pagination: no-line-numbers"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Century Schoolbook"">Robbie let out a whoop of joy. Emily lifted her eyes to Eric’s, not caring that he saw the emotion in them. “Thank you,” she mouthed, as Robbie waddled over to Sam to select a stick.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Century Schoolbook"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">Eric’s answering smile touched her mother’s heart. “If that doesn’t keep him safe, nothing will.”</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >For more information, go to <a href="www.lianalaverentz.com">my website.</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >To purchase Thin Ice, New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf and EPPIE award winner, <a href="http://lianalaverentz.com/books.html">go here.</a> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Thank you, and have a great day!<br /></span><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-44306862487205109942011-07-29T10:55:00.007-04:002011-07-29T12:24:30.028-04:00My Summer of Music<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajYRvD2GlWR_fSwkRLGA2dhZ5tN-b0CQeJ14639X5rQIvQxhTwRzmgDUP0qL-Ah2j8YcVmvnI5A9Rkott-s5-eaTxDOnqc-Y1Np0CInPPAk43RkW_JH5rGCQf_e7nVOpYUsWtyT8iKVQ/s1600/U2T50452.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajYRvD2GlWR_fSwkRLGA2dhZ5tN-b0CQeJ14639X5rQIvQxhTwRzmgDUP0qL-Ah2j8YcVmvnI5A9Rkott-s5-eaTxDOnqc-Y1Np0CInPPAk43RkW_JH5rGCQf_e7nVOpYUsWtyT8iKVQ/s320/U2T50452.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634810161775581458" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><a href="http://livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html">Trying to get back on track with my blogging, both here and at the PMDD site, where I haven't posted in over two months. As my last post says, I'm taking time out to pursue more research on the subject. And I am. I've enlisted the help of a friend from my Qigong class, and, I hope to have more good information to share over there in the fall.</a></span></span><a href="http://livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "> </span></span></a><div><br /><div><div>As for what's going on here, I'm still as busy as ever, now getting ready for out of town family to visit. Until then, I will be cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, and that includes clearing my desk of anything that doesn't need to be there, because when they come, I will take the entire week off from the computer. Tonight another friend and I will be shampooing the carpet, so after I finish this post, it's off to move furniture in preparation for that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Earlier this week, I attended the U2 concert in Pittsburgh with my son and friends. The U2 360 tour was the largest, and largest grossing rock concert tour ever, with a road crew of around 400 and a stage that takes 120 eighteen wheeler trucks to transport. (From a lookout point on one of the stadium ramps, I counted 30 of them lined up in rows of two, big, bright, shiny, new-looking tractor-trailers, just waiting to be loaded up again.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The stage took four days to set up (in the broiling heat) at Heinz Field, and 60,000 people were expected to attend. The show we went saw was the last American tour date of the tour, which started in 2009. Only one more concert after ours, and the tour is over. I bet that road crew is happy. One of the statistics posted on the jumbotron that blasted images from the center of the stage said that during the tour 17 children had been born to crew members. </div><div><br /></div><div>In all, the trip took 13 1/2 hours, 7 of them spent at the stadium. And only 20 minutes spent in traffic, Thank you God. We stopped and had a nice dinner (grilled trout and veggies for me) on the way, and arrived at the stadium around 5:00 p.m. The show began at 7:00 and U2 came on at 9:00. They played for nearly three hours to a crowd that was standing and swaying and singing for almost every song. (including me, of course....how I wished I'd had a tambourine along...I had to settle for clapping my hands or banging on my binoculars :)). </div><div><br /></div><div>The weather was perfect, with a cool breeze wafting in after dark. The open air format made the sound level more than bearable. Of course it was loud. At least I didn't have any hearing problems afterward :). At times the concert felt like a spiritual experience, which I am sure is what the band intended. The positive energy in the stadium had my hands practically vibrating. (We've been learning all about energy fields in Qigong.) The band came back for three or four encores, the last of which was the best of all, an impromptu song (and one of my favorites) inspired by a friend who lives in Pittsburgh and was at the concert--see the video below.</div><div><br /></div><div>What can I say, other than it was one of the many highlights of a stellar summer so far. Well worth the time and effort and wait and expense. Of the tickets. Not all the add on "convenience" fees, and the extravagant mark ups for food and drink and souvenirs at the stadium. Can't say I was shocked, because I do get out enough that I've seen prices rise steadily, but this was an orgy of greed going on. They even had announcements that you were not to bring in things like Tylenol, chap stick, and sun screen, because they had them available there for your "convenience." </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, and if the food and drink prices were anything to go by, that "convenience" would have cost me dearly.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the concert itself was awesome, and I'm already scouting around for my next one. This, for me, has turned into the Summer of Music, between the Fourth of July party jam sessions, and the CDs my son has been bringing me for my car. (Taking a break from listening to all those motivational CDs :)) The Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Adele...</div><div> </div><div>Yes, Adele. For once I am actually current with something that's going on in the world of pop culture, and it feels good :)</div><div><br /></div></div><iframe width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3xnRwW8j3QM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-84206482551589895122011-07-20T14:29:00.005-04:002011-07-20T14:57:00.318-04:00A Hodgepodge of Catching UpWow. This is apparently my 401st blog post here. Whoda thunk I had that much to say? Although at least ten percent of those are guest authors, probably more. <br /><br />Anyway, I have been super busy, to say the least. My strawberry garden proliferates, only it's full of weeds, not strawberries. I do have a few berries coming in, but need to get out there before the weeds choke the strawberry plants to death. To replace the row of strawberry plants that didn't come up, I planted a row of cherry and grape tomatoes. We get a few a day, and they don't usually make it as far as the house. Nothing like a ripe, warm tomato fresh from the garden.<br /><br />Instead of weeding, I've been busy trying to clear my desk of projects before my parents come to visit, because I know I won't get any work done while they are here. I don't do well when my focus is divided. <br /><br />The 4th of July picnic was beyond awesome. I had so much fun playing the tambourine that I developed big bruises on my left hand and right thigh. Each one of them well worth it. What was supposed to be a one day party instead became a two day party, with a surprise birthday party thrown into the mix. <br /><br />The food was awesome, the company even better. We had music, laughter, Margaritas, and badminton. The weather was great, and the bugs stayed away. We were singing and dancing and jamming well into the wee hours of the night. <br /><br />I can't believe the phone has rung at least half a dozen times since I started this post. When school's out of session, everything changes from moment to moment. I thought I had a free hour to write something up here, and now I need to go, barely after I've gotten started. <br /><br />But it's all good. I'd much rather be busy than bored :)Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-65726180970825526272011-06-01T08:19:00.004-04:002011-06-01T08:35:48.405-04:00Guest Author, Stephanie Burkhart<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvJ9_7WelzsfVdaxgL2KFRB55OUll9nyk8Qkrwe6EJH0L-xVG_IE2G7YRnQHD8oqlXRR8tTciU1p1g4ynC1uJjQAYQYjRVZu2S4iOSeed5jFMoGj4hmV44cOI2etjFafc_jUbJtX4Fdo/s1600/TheWolfsTormentCoverArt.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvJ9_7WelzsfVdaxgL2KFRB55OUll9nyk8Qkrwe6EJH0L-xVG_IE2G7YRnQHD8oqlXRR8tTciU1p1g4ynC1uJjQAYQYjRVZu2S4iOSeed5jFMoGj4hmV44cOI2etjFafc_jUbJtX4Fdo/s320/TheWolfsTormentCoverArt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613227363828051346" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:13.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"><b>Today's Guest Author needs no introduction, as she is a regular visitor here at Liana's Place, but I'll take a stab at it anyway :). Please welcome my friend, the multi-talented and prolific author Stephanie Burkhart!</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:13.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial">Taking the Journey – It's about the characters, Silly. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">I'd like to thank Liana for having me here today. She's such an inspiration, personally and professionally in my writing. My latest release is a paranormal romance titled "The Wolf's Torment." Set in Romania in 1865, Crown Prince Mihai Sigmaringen has a secret – he's a witch. Can his love for Theresa give him the courage he needs to save his family from the werewolf that haunts them?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">At first I was going to talk about the Black Sea, but then I got to thinking – it's about the characters, Silly, and bringing out the humanity in them despite their supernatural abilities. So I'll share some cool things I learned about the Black Sea and then talk about my most challenging character – Lady Theresa von Kracken.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">The Black Sea is amazing and it's a great backdrop for a paranormal story. They've been writing about the Black Sea for ages and since the Black Sea borders many different countries, there are many different myths. "Jason and the Argonauts" is set on the Black Sea. A Ukrainian legend tells of a violent arrow in the sea. It's so violent that when the sea tries to expel it, there are turbulent storms.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">The sea itself has all the properties of an ocean. It has salt water and the various fish include anchovy, tuna, and dolphins. The Winter Olympics in 2014 are going to be held in Sochi, Russia, which is on the coast of the Black Sea.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Romania is one of the nations on the Black Sea and it is also the setting of "The Wolf's Torment." This story is the "prequel" to "Twilight Over Moldavia." The premise of "Twilight Over Moldavia" is that poor Prince Stefan has been cursed to become a werewolf. Can Caroline's kiss free him from his fate? After I wrote it, I just knew I had to write the story about Stefan's parents, Mihai and Theresa, and how Stefan came to be cursed. Which leads me to Theresa, Stefan's mother. How could a mother curse her own child to become a werewolf? It's because of this question Theresa's character is the most challenging in "The Wolf's Torment."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">As the novel opens, the reader meets a young Lady Theresa von Kracken on her way to Delfin Castle to become engaged to Moldavia's Crown Prince, Mihai Sigmaringen. Theresa's family is a powerful witching family, but her father saw in a dream that Theresa must never be taught the ways of witchcraft (or she'll die) so she has remained blissfully ignorant of her own heritage. Theresa believes supernatural characters like witches exist and she believes them to be good. When Mihai reveals he's a witch to her, she accepts him as he is.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa's love for Mihai is pure, having been cultivated through their dreams. As the novel progresses, Theresa cannot ignore the evidence that she's a witch as well. She comes to believe that because she is, she can meet any challenge. Viktor preys on her vulnerability after she receives an emotionally shattering loss. Can a heroine do the wrong thing for the perceived "right" reasons?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">REVIEWS FOR THE WOLF'S TORMENT</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; "><a href="http://thepenmuse.net/archives/2720">From The Pen & Muse:</a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic";mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;color:#262626">A complete werewolf story through and through, Burkhart does it again with an amazing cast of characters, entertaining dialogue and plot. Lovers of historical paranormal romance will enjoy this read, the first in the Moldavian Moon series.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(38, 38, 38); font-family: 'Century Gothic'; "><a href="http://readersfavorite.com/cat-71.htm?review=4120">From Reader's Favorites</a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic";mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;color:#262626">5 Stars - </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:14.0pt; font-family:"Century Gothic";mso-bidi-font-family:Tahoma">The Wolf’s Torment has it all, witches, werewolves, a vampire, a princess and a prince. This is paranormal romance at its finest. </span><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic"; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;color:#262626"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Enjoy this Excerpt:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">Theresa rushed to Sonia's side as her sister-in-law doubled over, clutching the backrest on the sofa. They were in the library. Sonia usually did her knitting there while Theresa worked on her painting.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Mrs. Nocesti helped Theresa carry Sonia to the couch. She lay on her side, grabbing her distended womb.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Where does it hurt?" asked Mrs. Nocesti.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Here," Sonia grunted. She pointed to her side, near the rib cage.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa wrung her hands together, worried. Sonia was in her eighth month and her baby was nice and round. Sonia reminded Theresa of when Victoria had given birth. She hoped that wasn't happening now.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"She's not going to have the baby, is she?" asked Theresa.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"No, the pain is in the wrong place. I'm going to get Dr. Stanza and the willow bark pills."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Hurry."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"I will." Mrs. Nocesti rushed out the door.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa knelt next to Sonia, rubbing her hand over Sonia's hair. "This is so sudden. Did the baby kick?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"I don't know...Theresa...am I bleeding?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa shivered at the thought, but visually checked Sonia's dress. "I don't see any blood staining your dress."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Thank God. Theresa, it hurts."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"I'm sorry. I wish I could do something."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Hold my hand."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa offered Sonia her hand. Sonia gripped it so tightly, Theresa's knuckles turned white. Her own pulse accelerated. Spots appeared before her eyes. Theresa's breathing grew rapid. Theresa saw the baby in the womb, kicking the spot of Sonia's discomfort. The baby struck the blood barrier. It was weak, and because of that, was causing Sonia pain.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> "</o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Baby, no, don't kick your mother there. You're hurting her. Please, don't kick. Turn around, please, turn around," Theresa said, gasping for air as sweat trickled down her brow. The baby turned. It was a boy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Sonia let go. Theresa's link with the baby disappeared.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"What did you do?" whispered Sonia.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">"I...I don't know."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Theresa, you made it stop? How did you do that?" Sonia gasped.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"I don't know."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Are you a witch? I felt your energy -- it pulsed through me."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"I..." Theresa couldn't finish. Her mind reeled in confusion.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Mrs. Nocesti and Dr. Stanza rushed in.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"Sonia!" cried Dr. Stanza.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">"The Queen!" exclaimed Mrs. Nocesti.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; text-indent:28.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace: none"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">Theresa knelt, one hand clutching the couch, the other her womb. She wasn't as round as Sonia. Theresa took a deep breath. She couldn't explain what had just happened, but it had rocked her to the core of her being. No human should have the type of experience she just had. She felt the baby. She felt Sonia's pain. She learned Sonia's baby was a boy. Dare she think Sonia was right? Dare Theresa believe herself to be a witch?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; "><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzHE2spBeeU">Visit the Book Trailer on You Tube</a> and give it a 'like' at:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic"">The Wolf's Torment is available as an ebook only on Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and Sony Ereader. Formats include: PDF, html, and epub which can be found on the <a href="http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-163/Stephanie-Burkhart-Moldavian-Moon/Detail.bok">Publisher's Website</a>, </span><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; "><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Moldavian-Moon-Book-One-ebook/dp/B004YTI3FM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1305222473&sr=1-1">Kindle,</a> <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Moldavian-Moon-Book-One/Stephanie-Burkhart/e/2940012459787/?itm=2&USRI=stephanie+burkhart">Nook, </a>and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; "><a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-moldavianmoonbookonethewolf039storment-544310-139.html">All Romance ebooks. </a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">About the Author: Stephanie Burkhart is a 911 dispatcher for LAPD. She also served as an MP in the US Army. Multi-published, she has a children's book, "The Giving Meadow" with 4RV Publishing. She's an avid reader , loves coffee in the morning, and her favorite movie "werewolf" is David Thewlis, Lupin from Harry Potter.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; ">You can find me at <a href="http://www.stephanieburkhart.com/">my website,</a> <a href="http://sgcardin.blogspot.com/">blog, </a>and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Burkhart-Author/149938795021166">Facebook.</a> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-19909242511635369052011-05-22T18:24:00.006-04:002011-05-22T18:39:18.012-04:00Taking Time Out To Appreciate Beauty<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0hk39k23_h7U88Nmcp_f8xbELMrz0PKeKovj7w48jn0DE64F4VNY2PmNRfVyQFHt9Ikyvl5gszUiv56_XaP9K4GChqfcAV479aTLr-QR0NPIfXNdyr8Ihjh84DQsHH_FDumJN1GwAdk/s1600/%2521cid_image001_jpg%254001CBE94D.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0hk39k23_h7U88Nmcp_f8xbELMrz0PKeKovj7w48jn0DE64F4VNY2PmNRfVyQFHt9Ikyvl5gszUiv56_XaP9K4GChqfcAV479aTLr-QR0NPIfXNdyr8Ihjh84DQsHH_FDumJN1GwAdk/s320/%2521cid_image001_jpg%254001CBE94D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609671750422823570" /></a><b>Taking the easy way out today...too much going on. I had a blog post in mind but neither the time nor energy to write it...feeling kinda funky hormonally today...either that or it's allergies. Got this in an email from a faith sharing friend, and it's a message we all could benefit from...</b><br /><div> <div> <div> <div> <p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">In Washington, DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that</span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #1f497d; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"></span></span><span ><span style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">About 4 minutes later: The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">At 10 minutes:</span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #1f497d; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception – forced their children to move on quickly. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">At 45 minutes:</span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #1f497d; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"><a href="http://www.snopes.com/music/artists/bell.asp">No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world.</a> He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about</span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #1f497d; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">perception, taste, and people's priorities. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">This experiment raised several questions: </span></span></p></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><blockquote style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 5pt; MARGIN-LEFT: 7.5pt"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div> <div> <p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 18pt"> </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> *In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? </span></span><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"></span></span></p></div> <div> <p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> *If so, do we stop to appreciate it?</span></span></p><p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN"> *Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?</span></span></p><p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #333333; FONT-SIZE: 11pt" lang="EN">One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made ...</span></span></p><p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="font-family: Arial; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 11pt; " lang="EN">How many other</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 11pt; " lang="EN" > </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; ">things are we missing as we rush through life?</span></p><p style="BACKGROUND: white" class="ecxMsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><b>Enjoy life now....you never know when things will change. </b></span></span></span></p></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></blockquote></div></div></div></div></div></div> <p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"> </span></span></p></div></div></div> <p class="ecxMsoNormal"><span ><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"> </span></span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-40227274893994051062011-04-20T10:21:00.009-04:002011-04-20T11:15:42.566-04:00Rediscovering the Feminine Face of God...<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/10/cow-beside-road.html">Holy cow…</a>.here it is Holy Week, and only five days away from Easter.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>How did that happen so quickly?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Life has been a total whirlwind these past 6 weeks, but in a very, very good way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Before Lent started, my life was (once again) careening out of control—not in a destructive way--but in an over-committed way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was saying yes to too many things, had far more on my plate than I could handle, and was starting to miss deadlines and fall further and further behind.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I decided that for Lent I would *Just Say No.*<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I would take on no new projects, meet no new people, make no new appointments, accept no new social invitations, volunteer for nothing new.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For the six weeks of Lent, I would only complete projects already begun, honor commitments already made, and spend time with people already in my life rather than seek out any new connections.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One of those commitments was what I call *doing Lent.*<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This means fully immersing myself in the practice of Lent, in the hope of gaining spiritual renewal and rebirth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not that I was suffering spiritually to start with.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But with all that busyness, I was getting further and further away from what feeds me spiritually, and I was feeling the disconnect, and noticing the drain on my soul.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I went into Lent with the best of intentions, planning to fully participate in the myriad Lenten activities offered by my parish, immerse myself in reflection and renewal, maybe even blog about the meaning and traditions of Lent.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Turned out I didn’t need all of that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All I needed to find my renewal in Lent was three nights with the parish mission speaker, <a href="http://edwinagateley.com/ministries/sophiascircle.html">Edwina Gately, </a>and several evenings with the women's speaker series our parish now puts on annually during the weeks leading up to Easter.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The good news about finding my answers so quickly, was I was able to get right to work on implementing my new spiritual practices, and my, what a difference they have made.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(More on this some other time.)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let’s just say that this is one Lenten season that will see me totally refreshed and renewed, thanks to the hard work, dedication, and devotion of so many women of faith, most of whom I am blessed to know through my own faith life and parish.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The creators of our women's speaker series, Sophia’s Circle, are nothing short of amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For years untold this faith-sharing group of about a dozen women talked of offering in love something uniquely feminine and uplifting for their spiritual sisters in our parish, and finally, three years ago, they were able to pull it all together and offer their first speaker<i> </i>series.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">They didn’t expect much attendance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Spring is a busy time for women in this small town farming community.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Winter doesn’t give way to spring gracefully around here, and in March and April you’re just as likely to be driving to church in a blizzard as you are in shorts and flip flops.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So imagine their surprise that first year when each night of the 6-week series, attendance grew, until well over 100 women showed up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/power-of-sharing-our-stories.html">Imagine their surprise when they started out big right away with the second year’s series. </a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Imagine the time, energy, effort, and creativity that had to go into brainstorming, planning, and executing a whole new series this year.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Expectations had been raised in the past two years, hungers had been awakened, and now it was time to deliver.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And deliver they did, in a powerful four-week series that centered around the words Purpose, Passion, Power, and Peace.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The series was no less effective for being two weeks shorter than before.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Easter is late this year, and people are busy with taking advantage of dry roads and growing things.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The words they chose to focus on meshed beautifully, and created a cohesive message of renewal and rebirth representative of the positive face of Lent.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Purpose…the speakers encouraged us to look deep into our hearts, find that which we love, and focus on that as our purpose in life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sometimes our desires are in conflict with God’s purpose for our life, but eventually we come around, be it by the long, hard road, or the quicker and somewhat less painful one.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I say *somewhat* because God never promised there would be no pain in our lives, only that He would be there to share our burdens, maybe even turn them into blessings.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So which route you take to find your Purpose in Life depends on your relationship with God.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But either way, if you don’t find it—and that’s not to say your purpose can’t change over time—you most likely won’t be a happy camper and your life will not be as full and rich as it could be.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You’ll be like a puzzle piece, part of a whole, but with holes in your life that need to be filled if you aren’t connected to the rest of the puzzle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So go into the silence, search your heart, find your Purpose, and then pursue it with Passion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I missed the week on passion, unfortunately, as that was opening night for the high school musical and I was there to witness my son and several of his friends’ passion for singing and dancing instead.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But I don’t think I’m lacking in that department.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you have any doubt, read my PMDD blog post, <a href="http://livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/2011/03/pmdd-they-only-see-our-failures.html">They Only See Our Failures.</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I repeat:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Find your purpose, and pursue it with Passion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The third week, we were reminded of our Power as women.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/healing-power-of-touch.html">Women as healers,</a> women as caregivers, caretakers, peacemakers and nurturers, generously endowed with the gifts of the Holy Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A candlelight meditation brought the overwhelming amount of positive energy in the room into clear focus.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In this week we celebrated the <a href="http://www.theporpoisedivinglife.com/porpoise-diving-life.asp?pageID=386">feminine face of God,</a> which goes by many names, including Mother God, <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Sophia</st1:city></st1:place>, and Wisdom.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We ended the evening arm in arm, singing along with Libby Roderick’s <a href="http://www.libbyroderick.com/cd_new.html">How Could Anyone Ever Tell You </a>(you were anything less than beautiful?).</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Find your Purpose, and pursue it with Passion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You have the Power within you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The final week, our focus was on Peace.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Being at peace with ourselves, our relationships, relatives, situations, circumstances and perceived failures, walking in trust with God that all is as it should be and we shouldn’t waste our time and energy on blame, worry, anxiety, and fear. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Again, during the meditation, I clearly felt the creative energy and power in that room, as well as a pervading sense of peace that comes to me more and more frequently these days, due in part to my <a href="http://qigonginstitute.org/main_page/main_page.php">Qigong</a> classes three times a week. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/power-of-sharing-our-stories.html">Peace, as it turns out, was the special word I took home from last year’s women's speaker series,</a> and I have made great strides in that area in the past twelve months. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Would I have done the same without attending the series? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t know, and does it really matter?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What matters is that my life seems to be falling into a pattern of Purpose and Passion, Power and Peace that this year’s speaker series has only validated from without, and that is a good and positive thing. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I know where I’m going, even if I don’t yet know how I will get there, but I have the Power and Passion to follow my Purpose, and the Peace of knowing God supports me all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thank you, women of Sophia’s Circle, for once again bringing us closer to our God, in whatever form we choose to view Him or Her, and to the women we were meant to be. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-29886204107359045642011-04-17T16:09:00.003-04:002011-04-17T16:24:35.696-04:00Keeping Up With a Friend<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; "><i>"Keep your friendships in repair."</i> ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; ">That's what I was busy doing today...having a spontaneous lunch with a friend who moved away several years ago, and I haven't seen in a while. It was nice to catch up :). Sunday continues to be my day of rest, apparently from the blog, too. While I've been busy since I rolled out of bed, all of it has been spiritually uplifting. Qigong class, Mass, lunch with a friend, some leisurely errands run, a few books browsed and bought, and now it's time to pick up my son, maybe get a walk in, a light supper, and then settle in for Movie Night, which is something we've done for the past 12 years on Sunday nights. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; ">I'm really enjoying my new Sundays...and to think, I almost didn't go to Mass today. I thought it would be too crowded. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 25px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 25px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="body" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Here's another good one: <i>I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar. </i>~ Robert Brault, Freelance Writer</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><br /></b></span><br /></span></span></div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-24240325362813854082011-03-20T12:32:00.005-04:002011-03-20T13:28:00.765-04:00How Reputations Get Made...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtHBH3ofKlqa-tH2CJuKt3j9vNLy18tPM9LtyRou4o6Cm709QZMV4-lUi-eSphdAkgt43aAiA-7Cmz8v7bSTOoFNjaBPcYn8ywzw-XBN4MPTsXvNvxNPEJWNkcoxdhGQUMRCNpT_DBuI/s1600/Fish+Bowl.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtHBH3ofKlqa-tH2CJuKt3j9vNLy18tPM9LtyRou4o6Cm709QZMV4-lUi-eSphdAkgt43aAiA-7Cmz8v7bSTOoFNjaBPcYn8ywzw-XBN4MPTsXvNvxNPEJWNkcoxdhGQUMRCNpT_DBuI/s320/Fish+Bowl.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586215041473614946" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">How time flies!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Three weeks ago today, I was on my way back from a women’s writers’ retreat I had been looking forward to for months.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In the blink of an eye, it was over.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You may recall <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/taking-time-out-to-read-rest-relax-and.html">I blogged about the retreat last year</a>—in particular the fun we had at the Martini Bar on Saturday night.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The coordinator enjoyed my post so much <a href="http://www.deannaadams.com/retreat.htm">she posted it on her website</a> to help promote the retreat—which, by the way, was filled to capacity and a huge success this year, as well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So this year several new attendees came to the retreat, apparently looking forward to a martini, in addition to reading, rest, relaxation, and a wealth of information about writing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When I had I registered, the coordinator had told me there was another woman from my area registered, as well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I recognized her name as someone from church, so I called her and we traveled together.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thank God, because it was another blizzardous weekend, and if I had been traveling alone, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-cant-you.html">Been there, done that, </a>wasn’t too eager to do it again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But my friend was from this area, and well-used to winter driving conditions, so off we went in her minivan.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Good thing, too, because 20 minutes out of town, the weather cleared up and we had no trouble at all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We even arrived a bit early, got her checked into her hotel down the way—the B&B was full up—and managed to stop at <a href="http://www.malleys.com/">Malley’s Chocolates</a> and stock up before heading off to the retreat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Imagine my surprise, when on a whim I asked the desk clerk at the hotel if there was a chocolate shop around, and he said yes, right down the street.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A clear example of ask and ye shall receive <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So without my friend I wouldn’t have gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Turns out that without me, she wouldn’t have gone, either, as she’d learned about the retreat from reading my blog.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was looking for one of those martinis.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ll admit I went back looking forward to a repeat of the experience, myself.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I hadn’t ever had a martini before, and haven’t had one since, but suddenly I found myself dubbed “The Martini Lady” and on Friday night was called up to the front of the room and presented with a lovely framed pastel portrait of a martini, complete with olives.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Writing is such a solitary occupation that I have it posted up above my desk, to remind me that yes, writers do indeed get together and have fun every now and again <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-char-type:symbol; mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings">J</span></span>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But my, how quickly reputations are born!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The others told me I'd made it sound like such a wonderful time they wanted to experience it for themselves, and having a martini was the talk of the retreat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unfortunately, this year, the Martini Bar was full, so the group I was with visited an Irish pub instead.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Seven or eight of us pulled a few tables together at the back of the room, and proceeded to order drinks I hadn’t heard of in years, since my twenties, when ordering such drinks were the norm—white Russian, Fuzzy Navel, Slo Gin Fizz…and my own simple but straightforward vodka tonic.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not so simple and straightforward, I realized, as in the intervening years, vodka has apparently taken on flavors, and a lot of them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“What kind of vodka do you want?” the bartender asked.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Just vodka,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She indicated the bar behind her, with a couple dozen flavors of vodka lined up in a colorful row.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I know, but which kind?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Just vodka, I repeated.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Don’t you have any kind of vodka that isn’t flavored?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The last time I had vodka, Smirnoff’s was the one you got.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Don’t they make that any more?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> "</o:p>You haven’t tasted flavored vodka?” she asked, in amazement.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then treated me to a sample of espresso-flavored vodka.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It being after nine already, and me not used to drinking, no way was I going to mix alcohol and caffeine—I’d be up all night!!—so I thanked her ask if she minded if I shared it with the others.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Which is exactly what I did…I never did find out what it tasted like.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fortunately, she managed to find a bottle of plain vodka under the counter, and fixed me a drink.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We were the oldest patrons in the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As it slowly filled with people half our age we listened to a lone guitar player strumming Irish tunes and happily chatted about children and colleges and the things menopausal women discuss when we get together.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, being writers, we observed the room around us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The pick ups, the hook ups, the couples getting friendly as they flirted with each other before moving on to the main event later.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">At one point I saw the bartender pull out a fishbowl and fill it with ice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Her hands expertly holding two bottles each, she poured and poured until the ice cubes were covered, then added (in this case) some red liquid to the bowl and stuffed six big red straws in it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The bowl was almost ceremoniously carried to a back table by three young men and one young woman, who was apparently the designated driver, as she didn’t drink.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I noticed one of the young men leaning on her heavily as they shuffled out of the bar less than an hour later, the fishbowl completely empty.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I went to ask the bartender about it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yes, she said, it was called a fishbowl, and was made with gin, rum, vodka, and tequila, and cost $20.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Was I interested?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No, thank you, I all but gasped, waving my hands in front of me—I just wanted to know what it was.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She smiled indulgently and patted my arm reassuringly, treating me like the fish out of water that I was, and kindly fixed this little old church lady another plain vodka tonic.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Around eleven, with the bar packed and the songs getting less and less Irish, the ladies and I happily trundled back to the B&B, where we sat in the foyer next to a cozy fireplace, the area lit only by the small white lights of a still-decorated Christmas tree, and sipped glasses of Bailey’s Irish Cream from a bottle I had brought along.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I might not drink often, but I know how it’s done <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Bailey’s added a nice, quiet nightcap to the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I wonder if this means next year I’ll be awarded a picture of Bailey’s?</p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-2501770648322096852011-03-16T13:23:00.005-04:002014-02-02T11:08:12.695-05:00Creating A Spark<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">This week we had a fantastic mission speaker at church, <a href="http://www.edwinagateley.com/home.html">Edwina Gateley</a>, poet, theologian, artist, writer, lay minister, advocate, and single mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first night she spoke to us about Trust, as in trusting God, walking in faith, walking in trust that all our needs will be met.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">She explained how God is always eager to reassure and comfort us so that we might believe in our possibilities and become a holy people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told us the original word for “holy” in Hebrew meant “to practice,” as in practicing your faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Simply practicing our faith makes us holy…doing the right thing, reaching out to those in need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy isn’t reserved for only the special few.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone’s hands are holy….it’s what we choose to do with our hands that makes a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we use them to help—or to hurt--others?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">The second night she spoke of personal transformation, how the Holy Spirit is always waiting to s-t-r-e-t-c-h us to recognize God’s presence in ourselves and all people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told story after story of personal transformation in herself and the lives of the people she has worked with in Africa and on the streets of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>, where she ministered to recovering drug addicts and prostitutes.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Last night she challenged us to use our gifts to reflect God’s love in our dealings with others, in particular the poor, the homeless, the abandoned and marginalized people in our world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She acknowledged that bad things are happening the world over, but we can’t focus on that, we need to seek out the sparks of light and help those sparks to shine more brightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, she shared story after story of personal transformation.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">And she reminded us that every little bit of good we do makes a difference, to someone, somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">So today was soup making day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got out the <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/01/feeding-world-one-bowl-at-time.html">stock pot</a> and opened the freezer and filled the pot with leftover pot roast, crock pot chicken, an assortment of savory sauces and gravies made from previously made roasts, three bags of vegetables, and a magic array of spices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Took me three hours to get it to taste “just right,” but in the end, it all came together beautifully…and the aroma…nothing better than the smell of home made soup wafting through the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Unless it’s accompanied by the sweet smell of baking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the soup bubbled, I baked two cakes, and cleaned the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, after the soup had cooled, I put it into the containers provided by the homeless shelter, and delivered it, along with two dozen pairs of socks I bought at Christmas time, but never got around to dropping off.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Tonight, someone without a home will at least be able to enjoy some home made soup, made with real beef and chicken, a piece of cake, and a clean pair of socks.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 9.5pt;">It’s just a spark, but it counts all the same</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 9.5pt;">. Is there somewhere in your life you can create a spark or two?</span></div>
Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-83959114938252529242011-03-03T20:17:00.005-05:002011-03-03T20:29:11.070-05:00Getting back up to speed...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nKdsoWcVftOcOgjYEKJIReY7IZK77Cib4HF1FgoQOB7St_G7Y2q1c_Y2zKPt3Jaxg8Bo2UVaOlJJtylSMG5usRjqN_cFONlxIqkSArWKLLj33W6YhuGg2Zjjclq8PDS0bn8F8zUrorM/s1600/646870_T.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nKdsoWcVftOcOgjYEKJIReY7IZK77Cib4HF1FgoQOB7St_G7Y2q1c_Y2zKPt3Jaxg8Bo2UVaOlJJtylSMG5usRjqN_cFONlxIqkSArWKLLj33W6YhuGg2Zjjclq8PDS0bn8F8zUrorM/s320/646870_T.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580030089723982354" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><i>It is difficult to steer a parked car, so get moving.</i> ~ Henrietta Mears, Christian educator</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What with being sick all last week, and then going away for a long weekend, I’m so far behind I don’t know where to begin. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ve got ideas for at least four blog posts, and no time to write them. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Too busy trying to juggle all the balls--work, writing, and exercise, cooking, cleaning, and home maintenance, driving my son to and from school, appointments, and practices, and keeping up with church activities, which are moving into full swing with Lent just around the corner. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m going to “do Lent” this year. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some years I have not fully participated in the process of Lent. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some years I’ve taken full advantage of all the church offers, and others I’ve missed out completely.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I know one year I was too sick to go anywhere or do anything—that was right after we moved into a new home and all the off-gasses from the carpet and such made me so ill I collapsed. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Another year time simply got away from me and Lent was over before I knew it, with nothing in me changed or renewed. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But this year I’m going to throw myself into Lent wholeheartedly, which I understand to be a time of spiritual reflection and renewal.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There are other, more formal descriptions for it, (and I might even get into the history and practices of Lent sometime during the next couple of months) but that’s what I choose to make it—a time for thinking about the positives in life, and not focusing on the negative. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To that end, we have lots of great speakers lined up at church, including the <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2010/03/power-of-sharing-our-stories.html">Women’s Series of spiritual events I wrote about last year</a>, and many soup suppers to enjoy. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Speaking of which, I went to a prayer and potluck supper at church this week that was very nice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Kudos to the ladies who decorated the tables with white linen tablecloths and candlelight. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the company great, and the food incredible—as always. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(I think church ladies are the best cooks around, hands down.)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everyone brought a donation for the food pantry and a dish of some sort, and there was more food there than all 60 or so of us could eat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I made a double batch of cream of carrot soup, which turned out very nicely, if a bit different tasting.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s spiced with orange peel and allspice, an interesting combination.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>To thicken it, I blended two cups of broth with fresh, oven-baked squash.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It gives the soup a hearty texture you can’t get short of loading up on more fattening thickeners.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Only half the soup was eaten—there was so much food to choose from—so today I went around giving away plastic containers of soup, and will wait to hear the feedback.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had some for dinner, and it tasted almost sweet, but with a tang from the orange peel.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Really, there’s not much going on here, and I’m just trying to catch up from being so sick all last week.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I thought it was a cold, but it turns out it was (and is) seasonal allergies, which I am still dealing with, with mixed results success-wise.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But at least I am moving forward this week, no longer sitting still <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-char-type:symbol; mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings">J</span></span>.</p>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-35678521362900314612011-02-13T09:19:00.005-05:002011-02-13T09:47:27.891-05:00Eric and Emily's First Kiss -- Thin Ice<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GsvKP1y5g3si-X573KGF4yP2c93wvgRA1Pcqr4yLJfWvBdNSIvup86kUWTvFTCbCLjbraAckwJVbtyTEVd_g2Nc45-nSsvyJGDfB-epjfgt2VXnfeyI8zRo9qcoIot6_08oG4o1Ue7I/s1600/ThinIce_+%25281%2529.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573180155654225794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GsvKP1y5g3si-X573KGF4yP2c93wvgRA1Pcqr4yLJfWvBdNSIvup86kUWTvFTCbCLjbraAckwJVbtyTEVd_g2Nc45-nSsvyJGDfB-epjfgt2VXnfeyI8zRo9qcoIot6_08oG4o1Ue7I/s320/ThinIce_+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong>Yesterday I blogged over at the <a href="http://lasrguest.blogspot.com/">Long and Short Reviews Valentine's Day Celebration</a>, where, among other great prizes, you can enter to win your choice of a Kindle, Nook, or $150 gift certificate just by making a comment on any of the posts there. The more comments you make, the more chances you have. On the <a href="http://goddessfishparty.blogspot.com/">Goddess Fish Party Pavilion Blog,</a> where I shared some of my excerpts, it's the same deal. Just leave a comment for a chance to win. They're also offering several smaller prizes throughout the day, so if you leave a comment, be sure to check back and click on the posts where they announce the winners. (You can find the links to their announcements in the sidebar). You have seven days to claim your winnings. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>One of my excerpts at the Goddess Fish Pavilion was of Eric and Emily's first kiss. </strong><strong>So in honor of Valentine's Day, I'll share that here today, and choose my own random winner for an autographed copy of <a href="http://www.lianalaverentz.com/books.html">Thin Ice </a>from the comments on this post today and tomorrow, Valentine's Day. The winner will be announced on Tuesday!</strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><br /><strong><em>Emily has just, very reluctantly, given Eric a tour of her home. He refused to return her car keys (they'd traded cars and he's come to return hers) until she relented. Little does she know, he doesn't have the keys...read the excerpt below to find out where they are :) </em></strong><br /><br />I like it,” Eric said. “I like it a lot.” He turned to her and smiled. “Robbie’s very lucky.”<br />The nostalgic note in his voice made her wonder where he’d grown up, what his life had been like before he’d become a star athlete. He’d denied it that night in the ER, but surely he had family somewhere.<br />The grandfather clock in the hall chimed six-fifteen. Emily looked at the kitchen clock in surprise. Eric had been in the house for over twenty minutes. “You’re going to be late.”<br />“I know.” His eyes captured hers. “Walk me to the door?”<br />She swallowed, knowing what he was asking. “Sure.”<br />But at the front door, she paused, suddenly unsure. What would happen now? Would he say goodbye and mean it this time? She doubted it. And how did she really feel about that?<br />“Thanks for letting me inside,” Eric said quietly. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”<br />“Easier than I expected it to be,” she said wryly.<br />His eyes darkened to brown velvet. “I’m glad.”<br />Their eyes locked and he slowly lowered his head. Heart hammering, Emily went perfectly still. But when his lips touched hers, everything faded away but the moment. And in that moment, Emily Jordan tasted heaven for the very first time.<br />Never had she been kissed with such quiet reverence or sensual finesse. Never. After a brief first kiss that barely brushed her lips, Eric kissed each corner of her mouth with whisper softness, then returned to press his lips to hers again in a kiss that made every part of her yearn for more.<br />He pulled away just as she swayed forward, catching her gently by the upper arms. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then sent her a slow, sexy smile, a smile filled with a delicious sense of warmth and promise.<br />“See you soon,” he said and released her.<br />Emily nodded, too dazed to speak. Her headache was gone. Her muscles no longer ached. Every ounce of her earlier tension had evaporated. She felt warm and fuzzy all over, as if she were floating. Eric opened the front door and loped across the lawn.<br />“Eric, wait!” she called when he was halfway to his car.<br />He turned, a distracted look on his moonlit face.<br />“My keys.”<br />He pointed to the Suburban. “In the ignition.”<br /><br /><strong>Happy Valentine's Day!</strong>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-19361950762804108092011-02-06T10:44:00.002-05:002011-02-06T10:48:25.994-05:00In Praise of FriendshipI haven’t been around much lately, mostly because I’ve been off dealing with Life, running around in between snowstorms, trying to time it so that I’m home when the snow is blowing, and getting my errands done when the roads are clear and relatively dry. Dealing with Life can be pretty draining, and such was the case one night last week. I’d attended a class at the Y that afternoon, and during class we had a 20-minute demonstration of how to use the spin bikes there. <br /><br />I hadn’t been on a bike of any sort in years, and while I thought my legs were in pretty good shape from my walking and Qigong classes, they didn’t hold up all that well during the demonstration. (I found out afterward I’d put my feet too far into the stirrups, which is what caused the awful cramping I got while pedaling). <br /><br />Anyway, I got off the bike on legs that hurt and felt like rubber, hobbled around the track a few times, then decided that was not going to work. But I knew that to sit down and rest would only stiffen things up, so I went grocery shopping. A monster storm was due to blow into town, and we didn’t have any interesting food in the house.<br /><br />After an hour and a half of reading labels and shopping, I came home and put the groceries away and started dinner. Suddenly it was time to leave home for another class, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d been on the go nonstop for four hours, felt sore and exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to just stay home and relax.<br /><br />But a friend and I had agreed to attend a series of talks on the Book of Exodus at our church, and it was my turn to drive, so off to class I would go. I picked her up and we headed toward the church, and just as we were walking inside, I said, “This is the last thing I feel like doing right now. I so wanted to call you and say let’s just forget about it tonight.” And she said, “Me, too! If you’d called and said you couldn’t make it, I would have been happy just to stay at home.” <br /><br />So we walked into the class laughing, because neither of us really felt like being there, but both of us were there because we didn’t want to disappoint the other person.<br /><br />The class was awesome. Incredible. We learned so much about the origins of our faith, about how relevant the readings in the Book of Exodus are to our lives right here and now—<em>today</em>--in the midst of all our day-to-day busyness, and came out of there with a whole new appreciation for the seemingly routine traditions our faith practices weekly at Mass. <br /><br />What can I say but it was eye-opening in the extreme. Thanks for that go to another friend, who is giving the class, and has an understanding of The Bible that is nothing short of phenomenal. My attendee friend and I practically floated out of there on a new wave of energy and understanding, and then had another laugh about not wanting to go, and what we would have missed if not for two friends not wanting to let each other down. <br /><br />It really does make a difference when you have someone to do almost anything with, be it attend a class, lose weight, change your eating habits, tackle a home improvement project, go on a trip, perform a community service. Not only do you reap the benefits of success, but it’s just plain fun having someone there beside you, whether you feel like doing what you agreed to do or not. Especially when you don’t feel like doing what you signed up for. <br /><br />Somehow, when a friend is involved, you try harder than you would if it were entirely up to you. <br /><br />I’m so glad we’re experiencing this class together, and when the time rolls around again, no matter how exhausted I might feel, I look forward to once again going to class, soaking up the history and wisdom in Exodus, and coming out energized with a new understanding of my faith and the rich and deeply rooted traditions behind it. <br /><br />But better yet, my friend and I will each have someone to share our new knowledge and insights with--and that’s what deepens a friendship.<br /><br />Is there something you can do with a friend this week? Something you wouldn’t ordinarily do? Try it and see what happens.Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-65878677737126382442011-02-02T09:19:00.003-05:002011-02-02T09:50:34.531-05:00Guest Author, Jana Richards<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIsRmSmIhp-Qm5B8fo6xc-yKmPyvzIREXoXJLaZldcbrD9K9cKiREvRS-odXdOpdqPHAyIXMJnAD5eBggqSIcAwuzGb_wzNCR0aqMNvl7EbYyKBHPFQli-sJMz1J7wg8qjfZjDrUXsjw/s1600/Professional_pictures_004_op_400x600.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569097840416595138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIsRmSmIhp-Qm5B8fo6xc-yKmPyvzIREXoXJLaZldcbrD9K9cKiREvRS-odXdOpdqPHAyIXMJnAD5eBggqSIcAwuzGb_wzNCR0aqMNvl7EbYyKBHPFQli-sJMz1J7wg8qjfZjDrUXsjw/s320/Professional_pictures_004_op_400x600.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><strong>Today's guest is Wild Rose Press author <a href="http://janarichards.net/">Jana Richards</a>, who, like me, has an interest in promoting health and well being, so I invited her to do some guest posts on things that affect us all. I can't think of a person I know who hasn't experienced back pain at one time or another, and I, for one, have already learned a few things here I can do to make my back feel better thanks to Jana's research. That said, Jana and I invite you to sit back, relax, and learn what you can do to make your time in any chair more comfortable.</strong> </div><br /><div></div><div>Like many writers, I spend a lot of time sitting in front of my computer. Add to that the time I spend working at the computer for my day job and it’s no wonder I’ve experienced back pain. It not only makes me feel miserable, it makes me a less productive writer. Time to take some action.</div><br /><br /><div>First of all, what causes back pain? Here are some of the most common causes:<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Strains, sprains and spasms</strong> –The most common cause of back pain is an injury to a muscle (strain) or to a ligament (sprain) in the back. Strains and sprains can be caused by improper lifting, excessive weight, and poor posture. Even an awkward sleeping position or hauling around a heavy purse all day can cause a strain or sprain. An injured muscle may also "knot up." This muscle spasm is your body's way of immobilizing the affected area to prevent further damage.</div><br /><div><strong>Osteoarthritis </strong>– Osteoarthritis is also known as “wear and tear” arthritis. As we age, the cushions (disks) between the vertebrae in our backs become flatter and less flexible. Without the cushioning these disks provide, the joints between the vertebrae press tightly together, often causing back pain and stiffness.<br /></div><div><strong>Herniated Disk</strong> - Normal wear and tear over time can cause one of the disks in your spine to rupture (herniate). Exceptional strain or traumatic injury can have the same effect. Many people describe this as a "slipped" disk. Back pain results when the herniated disk pinches one of the nerves that come out of the spinal cord. If the sciatic nerve is affected, you may develop sciatica — a sharp, shooting pain in the lower back, buttocks and leg. </div><div><br /><strong>Osteoporosis</strong> – As we age we lose calcium in our bones, causing them to become less dense and more brittle. If you have osteoporosis, lifting and other routine tasks can cause fractures, called compression fractures, to form on the front part of the weakened bones of your back. These fractures result in back pain.<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Fibromyalgia </strong>- Fibromyalgia is a chronic condition characterized by fatigue and widespread pain in the muscles, ligaments and tendons — including the lower back.<br /></div><br /><div>So what can we as writers do to keep our backs healthy and pain free? Some of the things we can do to keep our backs pain free are the same things we need to do to maintain good general health:<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Keep Fit</strong> – Strong and flexible muscles will keep your back in shape. Both the back muscles and the abdominal muscles need to be strengthened in order to keep the back from hurting. Exercises for these “core” muscles will assist in this strengthening. To see a slideshow of core exercises from the Mayo Clinic, go <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/back-pain/HQ00955/NSECTIONGROUP=2">here</a>.</div><div></div><br /><div><strong>Keep your weight under control</strong> – Watching your weight not only keeps your heart healthy, improves your mood and increases your confidence, it also reduces your risk of back pain. According to the website <a href="http://www.backpainexpert.co.uk/weight-gain-back-pain.html">“Back Pain Expert”</a> weight gain may result in back pain “because the lower back, known as the lumbar region, supports the weight of the whole of the upper body, and gaining weight, as well as putting an extra strain on the knee and hip joints, can increase the burden on the lumbar region. This puts additional pressure on the bones, joints, muscles, ligaments and tendons of the back. Long-term, the extra weight can damage the discs between the vertebrae, the bones that make up the spine, can cause the spine to develop an unnatural curve, and can worsen the bone damage in osteoporosis.” Another good reason to say no to that extra helping at dinner!<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Stop smoking</strong> – If you needed yet another reason to quit smoking, Dr. Mehmet Oz says that <a href="http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/dr-ozs-back-pain-prevention-checklist">smoking can cause “accelerated disk degeneration and increased pain.”</a></div><br /><div><strong>Get some sleep</strong> – Dr. Oz also says that getting 7 to 8 hours of sleep a night allows the body to repair itself. Go to the above website for tips in finding the right sleep position. </div><div><br /><strong>Stretch it Out</strong> - I find that stretching helps to take the stiffness out of my back as well as alleviating the pain. <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/back-pain/LB00001_D">To view a slideshow of stretches supplied by the Mayo Clinic please click on this website.</a></div><br /><div>Even if we follow all the advice for good healthy living, if we aren’t careful about the way we work, it could be all for naught. Here’s some tips for keeping your back pain free while still being a productive writer:<br /></div><div><strong>The Chair’s the Thing</strong> – A properly fitting office chair is probably the single most important tool in keeping your back pain free. Make sure to adjust your chair to your height before you adjust your monitor, keyboard or mouse. If you don’t have an adjustable chair, consider using a lumbar support or a pillow to support your back, using a pillow under your seat if you’re sitting too low, or a footrest under your feet to bring your thighs parallel with the ground. <a href="http://www.healthycomputing.com/office/setup/chair/index.html">Healthy Computing has good information on setting up your chair </a>as well as information on <a href="http://www.healthycomputing.com/office/buyersguides/chair_buyersguide.html">what to look for when you’re buying a new chair.</a></div><br /><div><strong>Remember to Move</strong> – The body can only stay comfortably in one position for about 20 minutes at time. If you get too absorbed in your work and lose track of time, set a timer to remind you to change position.<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Remember to Stretch</strong> – <a href="http://www.healthycomputing.com/health/stretches/back.html">You can do a few stretches throughout the day, right at your computer</a>.</div><br /><div><strong>Check your Posture</strong> - Relax your shoulders, keep your feet flat on the floor, and avoid leaning close to tasks on your desk. <a href="http://www.healthlinkbc.ca/kb/content/special/tr5915.html#ty6987">To see illustrations of good posture, check this website</a>.</div><br /><div>Rarely, back pain may indicate a more serious underlying problem, such as an infection, diabetes, kidney disease or cancer. If you’re struggling with back pain, and none of the measures mentioned here alleviate the pain, the best thing to do is to check with your doctor.<br />Have you experienced back pain while writing? What do you do to alleviate it? </div><div> </div><div>Jana is the author of the newly released Jewel of the Night series novella, <a href="http://www.thewildrosepress.com/jana-richards-m-702.html">Flawless.</a></div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-26439029573407864022011-01-30T09:51:00.002-05:002011-01-30T10:00:25.885-05:00Stop And Smell The RosesSeems like an odd topic when you’re buried in snow, but of course I’m not talking about flowers. I’m talking about friends.<br /><br />I have a friend at the Y, Don, who walks in circles around the track with me. Don is 82, a widower who lives with one of his three daughters, and a bright spot in my trips to the Y. He comes to the Y almost daily, and knows just about everybody’s name who goes there regularly. He smiles and tells jokes and visits, and can make the sound of a train whistle, which he does frequently. That, in fact, was how I first noticed him. <br /><br />I go to the Y to exercise. Now and then I’ll stop to chat with someone I haven’t seen for a while, but most times it’s just a smile and a wave, and I keep moving. I barely notice new people—until I’ve seen them around a few times. But I only talk to people I already know, mostly from church. My plan is to walk in the door, put in my already-decided-upon time period of exercise for that day, and leave again so I can get on with my life—usually so I can go home and get something to eat. Going to the Y almost always makes me hungry.<br /><br />It was during my 100 miles in 100 days challenge last year that I first encountered Don. I was on a mission to get my three miles a day in—since I didn’t go every day—and I was walking around the track like a fiend, one lap per minute, feeling the wind on my face and lifting my hair like I was rollerskating.<br /><br />Don would say, “Look at her go!” as I passed by, and pull the handle on his imaginary train whistle. I’d smile and wave and just keep going.<br /><br />Then one day I thought, who am I, to be too busy to talk to this open and friendly man, and decided to stop and say hello. Don fell right into step, although not as quickly, and we started talking. He tells jokes, and flirts with the ladies, and always has a positive attitude. He’ll ask, “How are you today?” and I’ll smile and say, "I’m here,” and he’ll laugh and say, “You got that right. Better to be seen than viewed.” <br /><br />I’ll ask if he has any big plans for that night, the weekend, or the upcoming holiday, and he won’t miss a beat—“No, you want to go somewhere?” Always trying to make a date.<br /><br />Friday I asked if he had any plans for the weekend and he said, “At my age, I don’t like to plan too far in advance.”<br /><br />He was on his way to visit a friend that afternoon, in the hospital after having a stroke. “The guy was young,” Don said. “Only 67.” Then he looks at me. “Like you, right? That’s about your age.” <br /><br />And we laughed again. At least I did :). Maybe he was serious this time :). <br /><br />One day, I think it was after a big holiday weekend, I saw Don off in the alcove weighing himself on the old-fashioned scale that you have to slide the metal weights across to find out what you weigh. I snuck up behind him and put my sneaker toe on the back of the scale. He moved the weights, and then paused, and I couldn’t see his face, but I saw his head tilt to the side and imagined he was frowning before he moved the weights a little more. And then a little more. <br /><br />Before he turned around and caught me, I stepped back, and resumed my walk around the track.<br /><br />Before too long he comes into the main room, catches me as I come around, and we start walking. I mention I saw him weighing himself. “How’s it going?” I ask casually. “Weight holding steady?” “Nah, I’m up a few pounds,” he says,” sounding a little bewildered. “That’s because I had my toe on the scale,” I told him. And then I told him what I’d done.<br /><br />We’ve been friends ever since. <br /><br />Now he looks for me, keeps track of when he last saw me, and is always glad to see me when I come in for my walk. And I enjoy getting to know about Don. For many years, he drove a truck, delivering snack foods to stores in the area. The stories he has to tell… <br /><br />He’s always saying how he can’t keep up with me, and tells me he’s a hindrance to me. Don can only walk around the track three to five times before he needs a rest. But when he’s resting somebody usually comes by and says hello, so he essentially takes a visit break between laps. Me, I pick up speed and keep zooming around the track until Don is ready to walk a few laps again.<br /><br />I don’t find Don a hindrance. I find him fun and interesting to talk to. He’s lived a long and fruitful life, and I would miss him if he wasn’t there. I notice when our paths don’t cross, as I often go in at different times of the day, whenever it’s convenient for me to take a break from the computer. <br /><br />He’ll ask what time I have to leave today, and I’ll tell him, because I always know. I’m a little compulsive that way, chopping my day into distinct time frames. And always, as I’m leaving, Don says, “Thanks for walking with me. It’s more fun when you’re walking with someone.”<br /><br />Isn’t that the truth of it? Life is much more fun when we walk with friends.Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-63015009951298400842011-01-20T07:21:00.004-05:002011-01-20T07:45:24.813-05:00Guest Author, Jana Richards<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpoL3Yapi0nmDVeDbQ3O1FxsKARBbrAHuV0DZbDUKzMkY9D5WTBt25R0Yq-IN7qbP7DGeCLJqb3JP3XToiwpQ53P0dC-VNw_heHME160mEIDDVxF9xkV8eWfl9XQaGLv5bVGEmmN636qE/s1600/Flawless_w5496_680.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 205px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564242675093244002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpoL3Yapi0nmDVeDbQ3O1FxsKARBbrAHuV0DZbDUKzMkY9D5WTBt25R0Yq-IN7qbP7DGeCLJqb3JP3XToiwpQ53P0dC-VNw_heHME160mEIDDVxF9xkV8eWfl9XQaGLv5bVGEmmN636qE/s320/Flawless_w5496_680.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong>Today we welcome </strong><a href="http://janarichards.net/index.html"><strong>Jana Richards</strong></a><strong>, fellow Wild Rose Press author, 2008 Eppie Award finalist, and author of one of the Crimson Rose line's popular <a href="http://thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=172_196">Jewel of the Night series </a>stories, involving the mystery surrounding an infamous Blue Diamond. Jana also has several </strong><a href="http://janarichards.net/products.html"><strong>Free Reads available on her website,</strong></a><strong> including one about her pug/terrier mix Lou, that pet lovers won't want to miss. Jana and I share an interest in women's health issues, and Jana has graciously agreed to return on February 2 to guest blog about back pain, something most, if not all, busy writers experience from time to time. But today we'd like to help Jana celebrate the release of her latest novella, </strong><a href="http://www.thewildrosepress.com/jana-richards-m-702.html"><strong>Flawless. </strong></a></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div>First, a little bit about Jana: She's tried her hand at many writing projects over the years, from magazine articles and short stories to paranormal suspense and romantic comedy. She loves to create characters with a sense of humor, but also a serious side. She believes there’s nothing more interesting then peeling back the layers of a character to see what makes them tick.<br />When not writing up a storm, working at her day job as an Office Administrator, or dealing with ever present mountains of laundry, Jana can be found on the local golf course pursuing her newest hobby.<br />Jana lives in Western Canada with her husband Warren, along with two university aged daughters and a highly spoiled Pug/Terrier cross named Lou.</div><div> </div><div><strong>Blurb:</strong></div><div> </div><div>France, 1942. The world is at war. The Nazis have stolen the infamous blue diamond, Le Coeur Bleu, intending to barter it for weapons that will destroy the Allies. Jewel thief Hunter Smith is given a choice; help the French Resistance steal back the diamond and avenge the death of his best friend, or stay locked up in an English prison. He chooses revenge.<br />Resistance fighter Madeleine Bertrand’s husband died when he was betrayed by Hunter Smith. How can she now pretend to be married to the arrogant American? How can she betray Jean Philippe’s memory by her passionate response to Hunter’s kisses? Neither is prepared for the maelstrom of attraction that erupts between them. To survive they must uncover the mysteries of the past and conquer the dangers of the present. But first Madeleine must decide if her loyalties lie with her dead husband and the Resistance or with the greatest love of her life. </div><div> </div><div><strong>Excerpt:</strong></div><div> </div><div>“From now on you will be known as Jacques Lemay, Monsieur Smith.”<br />Monsieur Gagnon filled his pipe, dropping bits of tobacco onto his wife’s immaculate floor. Madeleine sat off to one side of Monsieur Gagnon’s kitchen, watching as Madame Gagnon prepared breakfast for her husband and their “guest.” Madeleine silently seethed as Smith—non, Lemay—helped himself to another piece of bread. Did he have to eat so much? Didn’t he know that food was scarce here in Lille, just as it was all over France? <br />She listened as Smith handed over the new two-way radio to Monsieur Gagnon and explained its use. <br />“It’s supposed to have a clearer and stronger signal than the radio you’re using now,” Smith said. He flipped a few dials to illustrate. “They also told me it is easier to scramble the signal to avoid detection.”<br />“Bon.” Monsieur Gagnon beamed in pleasure. “Good communications are essential to our work. Thank you for bringing it.”<br />“No problem. What else can you tell me about my cover here?”<br />“You are to work as a junior gardener at the chateau. I wrote to the head gardener, as if I was you, inquiring about work. He’s desperate for help. The Germans have rounded up many young Frenchmen and shipped them east to work in factories in Germany, so there are few able-bodied men available. You start tomorrow.”<br />He paused as his wife set a bowl of porridge in front of him. Monsieur Gagnon could not be connected with Jacques Lemay in any way; their comings and goings to this house had to be done with the utmost discretion. Madeleine knew the importance of keeping Monsieur Gagnon and his wife safe. He was the heart of their operation, their connection to the outside world through the radio he operated. If something went wrong and Hunter Smith was captured, it was crucial that no trails led back to Monsieur Gagnon. The safety of their réseaux, their Resistance network, depended on it. She hoped Smith understood the danger.<br /> “I said in the letter that you had not worked as a gardener before, so he is not expecting you to know the difference between a delphinium and a dianthus.” Monsieur Gagnon poured milk onto his porridge. “But he is expecting you to work hard. If you don’t, you could be fired, or your cover could be blown.”<br />“I can manage.”<br /> “The job might require a little more than sticking a shovel in the ground occasionally and spreading a bit of manure,” Madeleine said. The others turned to stare at her.<br />She immediately regretted her sarcastic remark, regretted throwing his words in his face. She shouldn’t let this man get to her, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. They needed to work together for the sake of the mission. But she hated him. After what he’d done to Jean Philippe…<br />Hunter’s gaze locked with hers, and the heat of his anger scorched her clear across the room. She refused to back down from the challenge in his stare. She’d be damned if she’d let him intimidate her.<br /> “Madeleine, enough.” Monsieur Gagnon spoke sharply. “Regardless of your feelings, we need him. He is our only hope for getting the diamond out of the hands of the Nazis.”<br />He was right. If they couldn’t steal Le Coeur Bleu, Jean Philippe would have died for nothing. She couldn’t let that happen.<br />She inhaled deeply and looked away. “All right. We’ll work together.”<br /></div><div><strong>For more information, please visit Jana at her <a href="http://janarichards.net/">website.</a></strong><a href="http://janarichards.net/"> </a> </div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-25733480765081479192011-01-12T13:08:00.004-05:002011-01-12T13:21:14.708-05:00And The Winner is...Too much going on here today to even get into it. But I did want to announce the winner of January's random drawing for a copy of one of my books. The winner is....Mona Risk!<br /><br />Congratulations, Mona! <br /><br />Mona chose a copy of <a href="http://thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=48&zenid=aafb307f2d5577975e01eff974fd4804">Ashton's Secret, </a>which she said she'll be taking with her on a Fun in the Sun cruise later this month. <a href="http://lianalaverentz.blogspot.com/2009/02/cruise-with-your-muse-day-one-of-cruise.html">This is the writers conference cruise I took--wow, was it two years ago already?--with several fellow writers, and it was wonderful.</a> So wonderful I'm looking into details for my next cruise, sometime in 2012. For now, though, I'll stay on land, and keep working hard on the half a dozen projects I've got going at the moment, projects that are taking up my writing time, and leaving me with little to say here at the moment.<br /><br />Soon as I have something to say, though, I'll be back! Until then, stay safe and warm, and I hope you find the time to enjoy the snow if you can, and a good book when you come back inside to get warm. Or you can skip right ahead to the good book :) <br /><br />And now, I shall get back to working on my own good book...Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-16751246554156266752011-01-05T10:30:00.005-05:002011-01-05T10:41:14.350-05:00Tips for Successful Family Gatherings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3-rZSyG-cghddzEQX5y4XikNXT6WqgIdkrsNDfYxNklRPIQmDQ1oN9xBgLs5vC2vvBkJi2A6ooq6z629SmqQleUeH_HH6RQGccHOHI5gYXaF5fzoyTUcM5yTKbETv1JFhLwGp5fiHic/s1600/cover.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 260px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558725592683363330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3-rZSyG-cghddzEQX5y4XikNXT6WqgIdkrsNDfYxNklRPIQmDQ1oN9xBgLs5vC2vvBkJi2A6ooq6z629SmqQleUeH_HH6RQGccHOHI5gYXaF5fzoyTUcM5yTKbETv1JFhLwGp5fiHic/s320/cover.gif" /></a><br /><div>Now that the holidays are over, how did your family gathering fare? Was it fun and full of happy memories, or are you just glad it’s over? Are you considering never attending another family event? Would you like to forget you even have a family? If so, you’ve come to the right place.<br /><br />The easiest piece of advice if your family is toxic to you would be to Just Say No, and tell you never to go back, for your own sake and self-preservation. But life isn’t that cut and dried. There are a lot of us who genuinely would like to get along with our families and have our family gatherings filled with happy memories of good times shared. There are also a lot of us, who, for one reason or another, simply aren’t willing or ready to make that kind of a break with our fundamental family ties…because without family, even a dysfunctional family, what are we, but alone?</div><div></div><br /><div>Nobody likes to be alone. Especially on the holidays, when, according to what see on television, everyone else is out having the time of their lives.</div><div></div><br /><div>So today I want to offer some positive thoughts and information on things you can do to make your future family gatherings, be they over the holidays or for any family occasion, a little more pleasant.</div><div></div><br /><div>1.<strong> Lower your expectations:</strong> Most people go into the holidays with Norman Rockwell expectations and end up deeply disappointed, even depressed and suicidal. Where do most of these expectations come from? Your television. Starting in October, advertisements abound showing happy families gathering and sharing their holiday joy. Keep in mind that these advertisements are designed to sell you products, and are not a realistic representation of what goes on in most families. </div><div> </div><div>Just like skinny runway models are not true representations of the average woman, warm and fuzzy advertisements with everyone laughing and smiling around a holiday table as they pass the food and drink are not true representations of a holiday family gathering. They are somebody’s image of an ideal—and ideals are extremely hard to reproduce in everyday real life.</div><br /><div></div><div>And don’t blame yourself if your holiday event falls short of the idealized version you see on TV. This is tantamount to blaming yourself for not having a body as hot as your favorite movie star’s. Looking good is what they get paid to do. If you got paid to look that good, you would, too. Any woman can look sexy with the right hair, clothes, and make up. If you don’t have access to the same spas, trainers, dieticians, life-coaches, cooks, housekeepers, nannies, drivers, and secretaries or assistants they do, then how can you expect yourself to look as good as they do?<br /><br />Same with the happy families on TV. If you don’t have access to the same funds and production crews that they do, how can your family gathering, be it for a holiday or wedding, be as picture perfect as they portray theirs to be? They probably don’t even know each other! They’re just a bunch of strangers acting like a happy family.</div><div></div><br /><div>So don’t fall for the emotional hype. Work with what you have, and stop trying to imitate some marketing specialist’s unrealistic image of what <em>your</em> family gatherings should be like.</div><div></div><br /><div>2. <strong>Arrive with a smile and determination to look for nuggets of good humor throughout the day.</strong> If someone brings up a topic you’d rather not discuss, just smile and say, “Gee, I really haven’t thought much about that lately.” Then excuse yourself to head off for the food and or drink, maybe even asking if there is anything you can bring back for them. (If you're already at the table, pick up the nearest serving dish and offer some food. "Would you like some more mashed potatoes?") Switch the focus to them, in a non-confrontational way. Don’t let them get your goat. Once you’ve returned with whatever they might have asked for, or passed the green beans, just smile and say, “Here you go,” and then move on. Either way, the uncomfortable topic has been diverted. </div><br /><div>3. <strong>Use the event as an opportunity for growth as a person.</strong> Practice the skills of patience, kindness, tolerance, acceptance, and/or self-control. Congratulate yourself every time you manage to take the high road and not snap out at the person who is trying to get you to lose your cool, either deliberately or inadvertently. Use it as an opportunity to learn about how you “don’t” want to be.</div><div> </div><div>4. <strong>Set your intention to have a good time, no matter what.</strong> Get a good night’s sleep beforehand. Arrive rested and relaxed. Read up and prepare yourself to view the gathering as a spiritual event. One in which you know your spirit will be challenged, and you refuse to let anyone shake your good mood. One of the best books I’ve ever read that has to do with dealing with difficult people is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thank-You-Being-Such-Pain/dp/0609600990">Thank You For Being Such a Pain, </a>by Mark Rosen.</div><div> </div><div>5. <strong>Eliminate three words from your vocabulary for the day -- Always, Never, and Ever.</strong> <a href="http://lovelyholidays.org/4045.php">The reasons why are explained in this article.</a><br /><br />6.<strong> Stay sober.</strong> I know this is a hard one, because a lot of people use alcohol to get through the day, thinking it’s the only way they will be able to deal with it, but in truth alcohol only contributes to the problem, because it magnifies whatever issues are already on the table, or lurking just beneath the surface.</div><div><br /><a href="http://livingonaprayerwithpmdd.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-few-things-that-make-your-pmdd.html"></a>7. <strong>Don’t choose sides in any conflict that develops.</strong> Period.</div><div> </div><div>8. <strong>Stay away from discussions involving sex, politics, and religion.</strong> Arrive prepared with alternate topics to bring up…bring photos of the kids or your last vacation. Anything important to you or your family that you’d like to share. Try not to get your feelings hurt if your efforts to share are ignored or dismissed. Congratulate yourself for at least having the willingness to try.</div><div> </div><div>9. <strong>Invite a friend or two</strong> who might have nowhere else to go for the holiday dinner. Sometimes bringing new people into the situation will help to keep unruly relatives on their best behavior. Or will at least make them consider restraining themselves in the presence of guests.</div><div> </div><div>10. <strong>Drive separately, so that you can escape if need be. </strong>If you can’t leave the house, then leave the room. Go into the kitchen and see if you can help there. Busy yourself with clearing plates and empty drink glasses/cans. Or just go and refill your own drink. Maybe spend some time in the bathroom, practicing deep breathing exercises. Go for a walk if you can. While you’re in the bathroom or on that walk, call a friend you’ve arranged to call beforehand if things get dicey. Enlist some moral support, and do it guilt-free.<br /><br />11. And it may well go against the grain, but if you feel you absolutely must go to the family gathering, then go and <strong>aim for one positive encounter during the event, and build from there.</strong> Next time aim for two, and privately celebrate your successes. It might take a few years to get where you want to be, but if this is your family, or your mate’s family, you’ll have as many years as you need to, to work on it.</div><div> </div><div>12. Another sanity-saving option is to <strong>arrive late and leave early.</strong> Simply limit your time with your closest relatives, so that whatever of the above you might be willing to try has a bigger chance of success.</div><div> </div><div>Below are some other excellent resources for success:<a href="http://www.kripalu.org/article/484">Overall tips on dealing with holiday stress:</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-happiness-project/201011/eight-tips-dealing-difficult-relatives-over-the-holidays">The Happiness Project: Eight Tips for Dealing With Difficult Relatives over the Holidays </a></div><div><br /><a href="http://www.spiritualzen.net/2009/11/avoiding-family-drama-over-the-holidays/">This article from Spiritual Zen </a>has some really good ideas, such as be prepared and have a plan, seek to understand rather than be understood, and know when enough is enough.</div><div> </div><div>And for the less spiritual and more practical among us: <a href="http://www.sideroad.com/Family_Life/holiday-family-stress.html">Practical Tips for Dealing With Difficult Relatives Over the Holidays</a></div><div> </div><div>When all else fails, <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_5795292_disengage-family-during-holidays.html">disengage.</a><br /></div><div>Because sometimes nothing less than <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Health/MindMoodNews/avoid-family-drama-stay-home-holidays/story?id=12441334">Just Say No </a>will do. Plan an alternate holiday gathering/event and proceed with it guilt-free, telling your family you’re simply taking a break and will see them next time. </div>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-41496745639341021042010-12-29T08:56:00.004-05:002010-12-29T09:04:20.953-05:00Christmas is Here! Hallelujah!Christmas is here! Christmas is here! Once it started, I haven't stopped moving. I can't believe its been a week since I posted, and I don't have time to post again today...my son is home from school, and I have too much going on. We had a wonderful, blessed Christmas, and good things just keep happening. Now I can send my cards out, so that's on the menu for today. I did want to post this on Christmas Day, but time got away from me, so here goes!<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SXh7JR9oKVE?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SXh7JR9oKVE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773882436450318586.post-59014950444413973892010-12-12T13:11:00.005-05:002010-12-12T13:17:19.486-05:00Advent Reflection Continues<em>Advent is concerned with that very connection between memory and hope which is so necessary to man. Advent's intention is to awaken the most profound and basic emotional memory within us, namely, the memory of the God who became a child. This is a healing memory; it brings hope. The purpose of the Church's year is continually to rehearse her great history of memories, to awaken the heart's memory so that it can discern the star of hope.<br /></em><br /><em>It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope. </em>~Pope Benedict XVI, written when he was still a Cardinal, in <em>Seek That Which is Above</em>, 1986<br /><br />Taking the day to read and reflect. Advent blessings to you all.Liana Laverentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17541637851147603199noreply@blogger.com0