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Canyoneering, Romance Novels, and Fanfiction

9/9/2014

I've been MIA since May, and was scarce even before then, so let me take some time this evening to update my blog. These last six months have been filled with personal and professional challenges and adventures, but I feel like I've developed as a person, so I'll chalk up the last half year to growing pains.

Amidst some personal struggles, and as an attempt to reorient ourselves, hubby and I decided to extend our newly acquired rock climbing hobby to canyoneering. Canyoneering is pretty much hiking on crack. You traverse through a canyon: hiking, sliding down slopes on your butt, and rappelling. Lots of rappelling. Rappelling on wet, slippery rope down waterfalls ... It took some getting used to. There's something liberating, though, knowing your life is literally in your own hands, even if it is a false sense of control. Brake hand! Needless to say, I'm much more of a drama queen than my husband is, though this is a man that described skydiving as relaxing. Also, I'm a waaaay bigger scaredy cat than he is. I will continue to seek adventures, but I've embraced the power of saying, "Nope, not doing that one." See, further growing pains. Or a healthy survival instinct, call it what you may. ;)

Regarding romance novels, there was a time not so long ago that I'd read, at the very least, two books a week. I've probably read perhaps six novels total these last six months. My day job has been a factor; I'm a year into a new role in a new career, and at the end of each fast-paced day, I don't often feel like settling in with a novel. I will share that Crooked Hearts by Patricia Gaffney is well worth a read for anyone that enjoys endearing, flawed characters and historical romance.

Finally, I'm finding myself coming full circle in my writing journey. It's a nerdy confession, and judge if you must, but my first writing projects started on fanfiction.net, paying tribute to novels I adored by creating short pieces that showed beloved characters after 'the end'. One of those projects was a collaboration with a dear cyber buddy, and in an effort to kick start my silent muse, I've agreed to write a sequel with him, a second collaborative effort. I have full intentions of completing Desert Dreams, and I also have a couple of other Paranormal Erotic Tales in the works- but just like the stream in a canyon, it's possible to split and follow two paths, all the while flowing to the same destination.

Wishing you all well! And Namaste for you yogis out there.

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Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father

2/17/2014

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I've been on a documentary kick lately. I watch about one a week, and they make for nice background as I'm folding and putting away the week's laundry. Usually it's more about listening than anything else; just a nice bit of brain food as I get through one of my least favorite chores. I select them based on topics I'd like to learn more about: diet, health, that one on nuclear power plants was a doozy. Informational stuff. Go ahead. You can say it. "Nerd!" That's right, and proud of it. However, last week I stumbled upon a flick outside of my comfort zone. A biography, but not about anyone well know. I often steer clear of such titles because they run a high risk of manufactured drama. But this one had great reviews, so I gave it a shot ... and it knocked me on my butt-- literally and figuratively. I can't recall ever being so emotionally gutted by a film.

I want to preface this review with the disclaimer that I don't believe this film is for everyone. I wouldn't recommend it to people who are feeling emotionally vulnerable, particularly if they are struggling with grief over the loss of a loved one.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father caught my eye because of its unique cover. Dark, shadings of gray, a tree with a deep root system and lush foliage, but the trunk is completely severed. So much meaning there, especially in retrospect. Then I mosied on over to the reviews, and decided it was worth a look-see. From there, my laundry pile sat forgotten as I watched, captivated, horrified, and deeply moved for the next hour and a half. I can't provide you with a summary. The narrative is unique, and it would take something away from the flow and the viewer's sense of discovery to reveal more than the basic tagline: A filmmaker honors his murdered best friend by creating a film that documents his friend's life, death, and the the events that unravel after. If you dare, if you feel strong enough, give this one a watch.

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5 Things I've Learned About Climbing

5/10/2013

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My hubby amazes me daily. He's been on a weight loss journey; in the last ten months he's lost eighty pounds. Eighty. So when he approached me with his plan to get out of the gym and go out and do something, and oh-by-the-way-would-I be-his-climbing-partner, I smiled and said, "Of course." I wanted to support my spouse. I didn't realize how much fun I was going to have in the process. Climbing is fabulous. And, it turns out, educational.

We're two weeks into an annual membership at a local indoor gym, and this is what I've learned from my first six climbing sessions:

#1 Pedicures are a thing of the past ... at least while I'm actively pursuing this hobby. I'm a frugal-ish person, but blinged out painted toes are an indulgance--an indulgence that makes no sense when I'm cramming my bare feet into tight climbing shoes several times a week. That's right, I said "bare." Most climbers choose to forego socks. Socks add an unwanted layer of slipperiness inside the shoe and take away sensitivity as climbers search for footholds. Shoes tend to run a size smaller as well; your toes should extend to the very tip of the shoe, and actually curl slightly. It hurts. There will be chafing and possibly blood the first few climbs. And--if you happen to have purple sparkly nail polish on your toes--it will be sanded off by the end of the day and be uncomfortable grit in your shoe. Word to the wise ;o)

#2 Your junk and everybody else's is on display. The good news? Nobody cares. You look around the gym and you see folks focused on ropes and belaying and safety, on getting to the top and having a good time. Nobody's checking out your butt. Well, much anyways.

#3 It's good to have a theme song for motivation. Hubby has had to endure my off-key humming of "It's a Long Way to the Top If You Want to Rock and Roll" for an hour or three on several occasions.

#4 It's okay to fall. It feels wrong, so very wrong, the moment you feel your fingers slipping and you know you're about to lose it. But it's okay. You're safe. You're secured to your partner, and it's just part of the process. Take a moment, give those strained forearms a rest, then get a new grip on that sucker and keep on trying.

#5 It feels dang good to reach your goal. It's perhaps the second best thing next to the communication and camaraderie you'll share with your partner.

We're still noobs, and the indoor gym is more than enough for us right now, but it would be very cool to someday pursue rock climbing in the great outdoors. Especially since the Southwest has so many glorious locations for it.

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Crustless Southwestern Quiche, A Healthy Start to a Sunday Morning

3/3/2013

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I am so very, very proud of my husband. In the last seven months, through diet and exercise, he has lost seventy pounds. Seventy. It still amazes me to think about it. He didn't follow any magic program or NASA engineered diet; he's just been working hard and paying attention to the amount and types of food he eats.

To contribute to his lifestyle changes, I've tried to alter the way I shop and cook. The meal we're enjoying this Sunday morning is one example. The first time I made it, I utilized what I had in the fridge and pantry, and was very happy with the result-- my experiments aren't always so successful. ;) I shared it on facebook with friends and was surprised by how many wanted to try to prepare it themselves-- so I thought perhaps others would as well and decided to share it with you. It's quick, easy, and pretty healthy.

Crustless Southwestern Quiche

6 egg whites
2 whole eggs
6 chicken sausage breakfast links (spicy if you can find them), cooked
2 Tablespoons of fat free milk
1 Tablespoon of Ancho chili powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
pepper to taste
1 small onion, grilled in frying pan with light drizzle of olive oil
1 cup of fresh spinach leaves
3/4 cup of low fat mozzarella cheese, grated
1 teaspoon Mexican oregano
1 teaspoon olive oil

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a nine inch round baking dish lightly with olive oil. Lay cooked sausages in dish. Layer the spinach leaves and grilled onions over sausages. In a separate bowl, whisk egg whites, eggs, milk, chili powder, salt and pepper. Pour egg mixture over the sausage, spinach, and onions. Spread cheese evenly over the contents of the pan, and sprinkle Mexican oregano on top. Place on a cookie sheet lined with aluminum foil. Bake 30 minutes or until the eggs have sat and a nice, golden crisp has formed on the top.

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Sexy Italian Food

2/16/2013

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I grew up surrounded by women that were darn good cooks. My grandmother made down-home biscuits and gravy like nobody's business, and her collard greens were to die for. My mom, to this day, still makes a mean pot of pork and green chili. An aunt is still the queen of fresh guacamole and picaros (these delightful creations, shredded beef rolled in tortillas). Our style of food was and is Southwestern/Mexican-American tempered with some Southern influence. I didn't discover Italian food- real Italian food- until I was an adult. But man oh man, what an awakening it was for me.

I lived in a small town as a kid; we had a few restaurants, mostly fast food, and the one sit down place served food like we already ate at home. I was in college before I had my first authentic Italian meal. My now-hubby, then new boyfriend, took me to this quaint Italian place tucked in between two New Age shops in downtown Flagstaff. There were tiny candles on each table, actual cloth napkins (which at the time, made me a bit nervous), and a menu in Italian. Our waiter was kind enough to translate. The cheeses are what blew me away. I ordered a spinach ravioli. Until that point, my idea of cheese was the processed squares we kindly call American cheese- which, so as not to be too derisive, I still think makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the whole wide world. But all of the sudden, my world expanded to include such things as romano, fontina, asiago ... hold on, I'm drooling. Italian food was new and exciting ... and sexy! A decade later, my stance hasn't changed.

I set my first paranormal romantic short story, The Phantom and the Psychic, in Italy to pay homage to a culture, and by extension a cuisine, I find exotic and sensual.

You can't go to a fancy Italian restaurant every night. Tonight, we're having home-cooked Italian, stuffed eggplant, and boy does it smell amazing. Followed this gal's recipe, mostly, but I have enough native Arizonan in me that I substituted the ground beef with spicy Italian sausage, and added some red chili flakes to spice it up.

How about you? What foods do you find sexy?

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Canyoneering, Romance Novels, and Fanfiction

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father

5 Things I've Learned About Climbing

Crustless Southwestern Quiche, A Healthy Start to a Sunday Morning

Sexy Italian Food

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