Guest Post: What Christmas Means to Me by Steven T. Warren

 

Yes, the correct answer has to do with Jesus’ birth and what that means to us.

(c) Tim Scott - Fotolia.com

However, I want to focus on the celebration aspect for just a minute. I grew up in a family without the means to heap presents around the Christmas tree. My memories are not of ripping open package after package, then by mid morning, forgetting about the presents I first opened. Yes, I’m sure at the time the ripping of paper was exciting, but those memories didn’t last much beyond the mess. I usually had one present that was “the present” that was of any monetary value, and I don’t mean big money. My memories of Christmas past are of the atmosphere created by my family, mostly my Mom.

The look of our house changed with decorations, a live tree and things baking: creating the “smell” of Christmas. Much was made of decorating the tree in that many of the ornaments were handmade. I remember my picture on a canning jar lid, shellacked and trimmed with yarn, probably made at school. I wonder what happened to that ornament? I remember stringing popcorn at least once. We made an attempt to sing Christmas carols around an old upright piano that no one really learned to play. We lit candles to set the mood. (Maybe we were saving electricity, if so I didn’t know. We had the live tree because an artificial tree was for rich people).

These are fond memories.

The easy way to do Christmas is to buy a several presents and keep the kids from opening them until the moment the cameras are ready. The pictures are captured for “facebook” to prove it happened. Soon the garbage truck comes and picks up the mess and the toys (or what’s left of them) are put in the overflowing toy area.

I have been to both Christmas celebrations. It takes effort to make memories, not a lot of money. I hope this Christmas you will focus on making memories you and your kids can reflect back on many years later and remember “the feeling of Christmas.”

~Steve (or Dad or Papaw)

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Herding Cats… or Getting a 6-Year-Old to Sit Still for Extended Periods (A Gluten Intolerance Tale, Part One)

Of course, my grandchildren are the brightest, cutest, most delightful children in the world. And, it goes without saying: so were their progenitors.

We have started the next generation of notes and phone calls from public school officials (and yes, these quotes contain my sarcastic interpretation):

“Your child (grandchild) spent half the school day sitting in the hall because he was standing in his chair then jumping off. He did not sit quietly and repentant in the hall…he sang and made noises the whole time. He sat backwards in his chair and kicked the wall.”

“Your child (grandchild) and another child were hitting each other in the (unmentionable word here) and laughing about it on the way into the lunch room. His response to being sequestered for such boyish antics was to make farting noises with his armpit.”

“We advise that you have your child (grandchild) tested for ADHD. Children who can not sit still and quietly during endless repetitive math worksheets, and who express their feelings to other children by any sort of physical contact, by definition are attention deficit.”

“No, your child (grandchild) is not the only one in the classroom who behaves this way. But here is a school psychologist’s report that will go in his permanent file anyway.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH CHILDREN BEING CHILDREN AS LONG AS POSSIBLE????

Thank the Lord for a doctor who has three young children. He is conservative in all diagnoses. He sent home his own evaluation form to be given to anyone who cares for the little one: parents, grandparents, Sunday school teachers, and school teacher. MEANWHILE, the child is to eat a wheat-free diet for the next two weeks to see if this could help his concentration in large group settings.

He suggested the diet change because I researched anecdotal stories of wheat allergies and ADHD, then reported my findings to the 6-year-old’s mother (my daughter #1). Turns out, for those sensitive to gluten, wheat intake may cause symptoms that mimic Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. We have one family member with diagnosed celiac disease, the 6-year-old’s aunt (my daughter #2). Research indicates that gluten sensitivity may be genetic.

It makes sense to me to check out all the options before we even entertain the possibility of a learning disability which will permanently affect the child’s educational experience, even if it means the school will miss out on the extra funding it would get if we allow him to be so labeled (read heavy sarcasm into that last bit). One other thought that occurs to me-since the school officials brought up the idea of medication: If we start at 6 years of age teaching the child that if he can’t sit still in class he can take a drug, where will that end? If he can’t sleep, there’s a drug for that… If he feels sad, there’s a drug for that… I see the possibility of a never-ending cycle of medicating to live. I believe there are people who truly need to use medication for specific chemical imbalances. I do not believe this is true for one as young as six years with no evidence of disorders like fetal alcohol syndrome.

Some of the symptoms we have noted in the 6-year-old (henceforth called the Dynamo, with good reason) that mimic ADHD:

  • concentration problems
  • fight or flight reactions to stress (melt-downs)
  • forgetfulness
Along with those three symptoms, some of the symptoms we have noted in the Dynamo that indicate a gluten intolerance:

  • abdominal cramping
  • acid reflux
  • attention and behavioral problems
  • floating and malodorous stools
  • gas
  • headaches
  • irritability
  • joint pain
  • mood swings
  • nausea
Not all of these happen all the time, but when they do hit all at once it is a difficult day in the neighborhood!

The reason we and our doctor reject the idea that these are symptoms of ADHD is that he is able to sit still quietly for movies, when he is reading to us or being read to, when he is interested in a project he’s working on, basically any time he is not bored.

My husband started the gluten-free journey last night with a box of Betty Crocker Gluten-Free Brownies. What a great start! This morning we had locally grown golden delicious apples and gluten-free brownies for breakfast. It was the Dynamo’s idea. Didn’t I tell you he is the smartest?!?
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Visitors and then Some…

Today I had visitors at work:

My two grandsons, 6 yrs and 6 weeks, stayed with me for a while when their mom went to the doctor. The 6 week old was having tummy troubles so I let the 6 yr old go out into the narthex and listen to the organist practice.

Unbeknownst to me (juggling fretful baby), the organist went up into the balcony to play the baby grand piano and the 6 yr old took advantage of the empty stage to practice his own singing. His mom returned and just a minute passed before he came running into my office. “Nana, Mom, come watch Max play the piano upstairs.” We put him off and he insisted, “Come listen to Max and those people practice!” Well…..

As far as I knew until my daughter arrived, Max (the organist), the 2 boys and I were the only ones in the building. There is a ding that goes off every time an exterior door is opened and none had sounded after Max came in until my daughter arrived.

So naturally I asked, “What people?”

“The people in white suits.”

“You mean white hair? You saw someone with white hair?”

Big sigh. “No, Nana. Not Max. The two people in white suits were with him practicing the piano. Upstairs.”

“How did you see them upstairs?”

Another big sigh. “When I was on the stage. I saw them through the window.”

My daughter and I were both puzzled and we brushed him off a bit. Although quietly and out of his hearing, I did say to her, “Who could he be talking about? Did you see anyone when you came in?” She said she hadn’t and we gathered up both boys and I walked her to the car.

When the organist came back into the office I nonchalantly asked, “Did you have anyone practicing with you in the balcony?”

“Nope. Just me.”

This beautiful building I work in was built in 1858. Standing on the stage you can see up into the balcony where a gorgeous stained glass window illuminates the room. Today is very overcast and the sun wasn’t shining through the window but it is so large that the room is always lit. What did our little one see up there? Or perhaps whom? He didn’t specify whether the two people in white suits were male or female. I am not a believer in spooky things so I will go with my first instinct: The beautiful classical music that Max plays was accompanied this day by visiting angels who couldn’t pass by an opportunity to glorify the Creator in this lovely place He has provided for Worship.

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Guest Blogger: Lindsey Warren – In His Sister’s Words

Walking through New York on Friday morning heading to the 9/11 Memorial, I anticipated the emotions I would feel, but never realized how deeply it would affect me. As I was walking, I looked down into sidewalk grates and thought that they seemed kind of full, possibly from trash, possibly from ashes from the World Trade Center. When we reached the fence that surrounded the site where the new Freedom Tower and Memorial site are being constructed, my throat was tight and my mind just kept replaying the events of that tragic day. The other people around me didn’t understand why I was affected so much; they were only 7 or 8 years when the attacks happened and didn’t fully realize the magnitude of what this meant for our country. Walking up to a higher catwalk where we could see more of the construction site, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I couldn’t get the image out of my head of people jumping from the buildings, of the towers falling, or of the face of the girl that I knew who was on one of the planes. I think at one point my sobs drowned out the sound of the cars below, at least in my own head.

I stood at this site where 3000 people lost their lives on September 11, 2001 knowing it was the catalyst for so many people who stand in service to this country and for those who have given their lives during the horror on that day and since then to make sure it never happens again. I realized that we can be so absorbed in our lives we forget that we only have these lives because of the willingness of people to give service to and sometimes die for the freedom that we take for granted. One of the students with me came and looped her arm through mine. She said, “Sometimes it’s hard to have to remember.” We cannot become complacent and forget why we can live the way we do and what has been sacrificed for that.

We walked into the Memorial Museum which has been set up in its temporary location near the site. As I went through the room packed full of people, seeing the timeline of events, the live memorials made for the victims, and even some of the letters, photos, and fire or police department patches, I just cried. When you don’t remember or you push the memories out of your mind, it’s easy to act like they never happened. Standing there, the memories I had suppressed hit me all at once, knocking the breath out of me.

A friend with me asked if I wanted to look up the name of the girl I knew, so we did. As we scrolled through the list of names, it made my heart break to see so many names. How many people may have died at the World Trade Center who didn’t get their name on this list? How many people have died fighting to protect the lives of people they never knew? These people deserve to be honored as well. This Memorial will be a beautiful tribute to the victims, families, and those serving this country.

The rubble is no longer there and the bodies aren’t visible, but it truly affected me in a way that I never imagined it would. I was in the 10th grade that day and I was sitting in a classroom in Utah when they announced the attack on the United States and the 3 locations that had been targeted and hit. I remember seeing the towers fall and hearing the cries of my fellow classmates as the realization of what was happening struck us. Myself, along with the other students who had parents in the military and who lived on the Air Force base were called out of class and dismissed early. My sister and I picked up our brother from school and spent the next 5 hours trying to get home. My mom was stuck 45 minutes away and my dad was locked down in his building on the base. My sister took the role of both of our parents to keep us safe and calm. She was always strong for us, even though I know she was freaking out as much as I was.

It’s so ironic to me that we when picked up my brother from school that day (he was in the 6th grade), he was laid back. He didn’t understand what was really happening, and even thought it was kind of cool that each car was searched upon getting onto the base and the base was surrounded by armed military police. This year, near the 10 year anniversary of the attack of 9/11, he will be serving overseas with the Marine Corps because of something he did not understand 10 years ago, when he was just a kid.

I remember at the time my dad was one year from retirement and I was so fearful that he would be the one being deployed. I never dreamed that 10 years later, it would be my brother I would be scared for – this brave brother who is never selfish and always puts others first. In March, my brother had surgery on his back and all I could think about was the recovery and how the doctors would determine if he was clear for deployment. I love him and I was very selfish in my hopes that he would not be cleared. No one wants to get those deployment orders and I certainly don’t want my brother fighting in a war zone.

The Bible says in 1 Timothy 1:7, “For God did not give us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, of craven and cringing and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of calm and well-balanced mind and discipline and self-control.” (AMP) Russ is no longer a kid; he is a man, my brother, and most of all, my friend. Now, he even gets the role of my Hero.

Our lives are free because someone else has given up theirs, either in death or in service. Praise God for those willing people and their families. John 15:13 says, “No one has greater love than to lay down his own life for his friends.”

I will not forget the events of September 11, 2001. I will not stop praying. I will not take my freedom for granted.

 

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Marine Mom Monday: Countdown to Deployment

1 year, 9 months, 27 days ago

The day I officially became a Marine mom was one of the longest days of my life. Little did I know the full impact of that proud but excruciatingly painful day. The most profound impact was on my perception of time. While boot camp for my son dragged out from the normal 13 weeks to 17 weeks since he had to spend three weeks in the medical platoon, the days for me seemed to become twice as long…the ticks of the clock more pronounced but ever so slow.

On July 13, 2009, I hugged my boy and watched him walk away from me into a future in which I would just be part of the periphery. It is a place to which I have yet to become fully accustomed. November 5, 2009, I once again hugged my boy, but this time I was second, holding back for his lovely sweetheart to get the first embrace. November 11, 2009, I watched as I officially became second in his life when my son married this beautiful girl who had been the daughter of my heart for two years already. April 8, 2011, we visited our son and his wife in their new home. Their excitement at owning their first home was contagious. The position of second began to fit a little better as I saw how utterly happy they are together.

And then…

A new date stamped its name on the calendar of my mind. April 11, 2011, I watched my son hand his wife his deployment orders. After she read them with a carefully guarded expression, I listened to them discuss the merits of the actual location to which he would be deployed. I was across the room and somehow the distance lengthened as the reality of the topic they were discussing ripped into my heart and burrowed into a wound that won’t seem to scab over.

There is no itchy evidence that this wound will get better. I keep it bound tightly, careful with every word and thought, trying not to peek at it. But still I am aware of it every minute of every day. There is nothing that the pain of this wound does not color. If I speak of the deployment my throat narrows, choking me with a fear so tangible I sometimes feel I can barely breathe. If I look forward to the birth of our newest grandchild, the probable absence of his uncle at his birth is the very next thought.

I spoke my fears aloud in church yesterday, haltingly, waiting for the crush of tears and fear to pass between each sentence. How the idea of someone aiming a weapon at my son, or setting a bomb that might destroy his transport is strangling me. I expected that the truth of the Word of God given to me by my friends might bring relief.

I was disappointed.

I am still devastated.

I am still terrified.

I wonder if the joy of the Lord will once again be my strength.

I wonder if there will come a time where the truth of His pure Love will speak peace to my soul again.

In the meantime, the tick of the clock is so very loud now. And it has sped up, hurrying to a date I do not yet know…a date which will crush me more than anything in my life ever has.

I HATE WAR!

 

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I Love Chocolate for Breakfast!

I’ve been in a life filled with torrential winds for months. Sometimes I’ve hidden, other times I’ve had to step up front and center. I don’t know if it’s the little glimpses of sunshine I’ve gotten this week, or that I’m finally over this last cold/flu, but I’m ready to change things up and stop letting life toss me around.

A few months ago, a couple friends and I had a Twitter thread discussing the pleasures of having chocolate for breakfast. I like chocolate throughout the day, but especially a little taste for breakfast. Part of my change up is indulging that desire. General Mills has made it a little easier with their chocolate Cheerios and I’ve discovered a wonderful tea from Tisano that is chocolate…oh my!

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not embarking on a decadent or unhealthy approach to life and work. On the contrary, I’ve been exercising and eating well. In fact I am only 3 pounds away from what the doctor said was a good target weight and I’ve lost 20 pounds over the past 2 years! What I am doing is more of the things I let go because so many other things seemed more important.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned in my time in the storm is that guilt and regret are terribly negative influences. And undeserved guilt and false regrets are insulting to who I am meant to be. I love  to read. I love to write even more. With everything spinning around and around, taking a few minutes (or even an afternoon) to indulge in reading a new book made me feel like I was surely letting someone down. All the events made great excuses to avoid the real work of writing, which I know is my true calling.

So no more accepting undeserved guilt…and I’m working on fulfilling dreams and ambitions without excuse. It is a beautifully sunny day. The snow is melting a bit. Life is good.

So here’s how I start narrowing my focus to keep this blog relevant and interesting to me and my friends: I’m probably going to read a new book this weekend, I’m going to finish my new short story by tomorrow, and I’m going to have chocolate for breakfast every day. Join me on Monday, February 14 for a new look and new ways of indulging in little pleasures that keep life fun, healthy, and guilt-free.

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Coming Full Circle: My Journey as a Marine Mom

Sixteen months ago we got a phone call from our son that changed my life. “I’m joining the Marines.” This wasn’t the first time I had heard those words from our boy. He had talked about it since he was in middle school. He signed up for the Delayed Enlistment Program in his junior year of high school but changed his mind. I was good with that…it seemed too soon to make life-changing decisions. This time the words rang true, especially when they were followed by the words, “I’m leaving in 30 days for boot camp.”

In our family, military service is not unusual. My husband spent 22 years in the US Air Force. Many of his family members served when drafted during World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. His dad’s brother retired from 20 years in the Navy, as did his son. That cousin’s daughter is currently serving. On my side of the family, my father served 30 years with the Marines. Both my sisters’ husbands have served: one retired with 20 years in the Marines, the other currently in the Marine Reserves. But somehow it is different now.

Four of our boys are United States Marines. And all of them enlisted voluntarily during war time under a Commander-in-Chief with questionable foreign policy experience. Three of those boys will be deployed to the war zones at different times during the next year. First to leave in less than a month is my middle sister’s son-in-law. His wife and little boy will be coming back from across the country to be with family while he is gone. Then my sister’s oldest son leaves shortly after the holidays. My son’s best friend leaves in early spring. My son will be heading to the bad place around this time next year. The youngest of our Marines, my baby sister’s boy, is starting MCT (Marine Corps Training–a shortened version of infantry training for non-infantry specialties) this week. He will then head to the mid-west for his specialty training. Since he is a reservist like his father, he will be attending college next fall and maybe not have to deploy before he finishes school.

We are very proud of our boys. They are our heroes.

On the outside, all this doesn’t seem to have made much difference. My life has progressed as usual. It’s funny how that happens. I still keep our grandson everyday. Things are moving along nicely toward our oldest daughter’s wedding in December. We chat or text with our girls daily, our son occasionally. Life has some very pleasurable moments. But sometimes I feel like I am standing outside my life watching it go by.

See once upon a time, I had a little boy who refused to go to bed until I was home. That meant after attending night classes, I had to help him get to sleep. And then when he was a bit older, I had to assure him that I would come and get him if he got too homesick at Boy Scout camp. When he was in high school I took him lunch almost every day. He would sneak and text me throughout the day. Just silly things usually starting with, “What’s up?”

I know kids grow up.  And I’m pretty good at letting go, at least I always thought I was. But the 10 second phone call the night he left for boot camp was hours too short. The time between the phone call from his Drill Instructor informing us that he was being sent to the medical platoon and the next letter we got was eons too long. And he celebrated his 20th birthday alone in the midst of strangers…when our family has always been known for celebrating each birthday twice: once on the day of and again when it was convenient to have guests. Then when boot camp graduation finally arrived, instead of a boy’s arms wrapping around me, it was a man who held me close and whispered, “I missed you so much.”

At home the whirlwind had just begun. Our Marine married his high school sweetheart on Veteran’s Day 2009. His wife and I drove him down to MCT a few days later. Because I keep our daughter’s little boy, he had to go as well. He had a hard time understanding why we had to pull over and sit a while: neither of the women in the car could see to drive after watching our Marine walk away once more. A month later he was home again, this time assigned to his recruiter’s office for a few weeks in December. January through April he was gone again to his specialty training. When he finished there and was finally at his duty station, he had to wait a month to bring his wife down to live with him. Finally I had a few months to get used to this new kind of normal.

Then a friend’s son was killed in Afghanistan on September 1, 2010. Heartbroken for their family, my own life screeched to a halt while I tried to find a balance between grieving for them and getting on with our own lives. But I was forever changed. Reality is now so very REAL. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan aren’t just something happening “out there.” For a while I couldn’t think of anything else. I got updates nearly daily in my email of young men who had to be met by their grieving families at Dover Air Force Base. I finally stopped my Marine parents support site from sending me emails. It became too much for me.

I am standing here trying once again to find my balance. If I don’t blog as often as I did, it’s because I want to be relevant and fun but not frivolous with my writing. Work on my novel has slowed to a crawl, not put away, just waiting inspiration again. If you see my Facebook profile page loaded with Farmville play time or a silly status update, don’t think too harshly of me. Sometimes I need to connect with people, especially other Marine families and that’s who a lot of my Farmville friends are. They understand better than most how the silence in the house can seem deafening; how the lack of texts or calls from my boy occasionally gives me a stomachache; how fear can creep up and crush my heart, leaving me breathless. And they understand how visiting face-to-face is sometimes too hard, too raw. So we comfort each other with typewritten words and silly games.

Yes, I am a proud, flag-waving, hand-over-my heart, pledge-saying Marine mom. Sometimes I feel like shouting OORAH! Other times it’s all I can do to whisper, “Dear God please keep him safe.” But know this: you can sleep soundly tonight because my Marine has your back.

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3 Reasons You Should Enter Book Giveaway Contests

I got a Writer’s Digest Facebook update today featuring a giveaway by Chuck Sambuchino, editor of the Guide to Literary Agents. Now really the giveaway is a shameless self-promotion for his books, but guess what? That’s reason number one you should enter giveaway contests:

  1. Following the giveaway contest rules helps other writers promote their work. Because when you post about the giveaway to receive extra chances in the drawing, your friends who may not have otherwise heard of Chuck Sambuchino and his new book, How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack, get to learn about it. Case in point for me: Yesterday I featured Terry Odell’s blog as my Weekly Blog Recommendation (WBR). Today she posted a link back to Typing One-Handed on her blog. I use the WBR to share the places I like to visit in the blogosphere. Bonus for me, thanks to Terry, is that her readers will now know that I am also out here.
  2. Entering a contest where you have the opportunity to write a brief blurb about said contest will help you learn some basic marketing techniques, either to promote your work, or just your blog. This is really a great bonus — one of the hardest things for me is to state briefly what my book is about without going into too much detail. Training in brevity is important to the elevator pitch as well as synopsis writing.
  3. There is free stuff! In this case, Chuck is giving away a copy of Gnome Attack along with his two other books specifically for writers: 2011 Guide to Literary Agents and Formatting and Submitting Your Manuscript. Did I mention FREE?!? This giveaway is worth $68 retail. Considering the amount of money I personally spend on books, both in print and digitally, free is good!

By the way, if you are now intrigued by Chuck’s giveaway, you can find out more about it at the Guide to Literary Agents Editor’s Blog.

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Pizza-rific!

I have expanded my culinary boundaries since I switched to a vegetarian diet about a month ago. I am following a lot of Chef Jamie Oliver’s tips for cooking fresh with local ingredients. His Food Revolution TV series was filmed near our town.

I picked up a butternut squash last week at our town’s farmers’ market. Yesterday I made one of the best specialty pizzas I’ve ever eaten. My family concurs. Let me share the recipe:

~~~

Butternut Squash and Sage Pizza (from The Best-Ever Vegetarian Cookbook)
Serves 4

1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast
pinch of sugar
4 cups white bread flour (I used 3-1/2 cups flour, 1/2 cup golden flax flour)
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cubed, about 1 pound prepared weight
16 sage leaves
2 x 14-ounce cans chunky tomato sauce
4 ounces mozzarella
4 ounces firm goat cheese
salt and freshly ground black pepper

1) Put 1-1/4 cups warm water in a measuring cup. Add the yeast and sugar and let sit 5-10 minutes, until mixture is frothy.

2) Sit the flour and salt into a large bowl and make a well in the center. Gradually pour in the yeast mixture and the olive oil. Mix to make a smooth dough. Knead about 10, until smooth, springy, and elastic. (I let my Bosch mixer do all the work!) Place the dough in a floured bowl, cover and let rise in a warm place for 1-1/2 hours.

3) Preheat the oven to 400°F. Oil four baking sheets. Put the butter and oil in a roasting pan and heat in the oven for a few minutes. Add the shallots, squash and half the sage leaves. Toss to coat. Roast for 15-20 minutes, until tender.

4) Raise the oven temperature to 425°F. Divide the dough into four equal pieces and roll out each piece on a floured surface to a 10-inch round. (I divided the dough in half and froze one half for later use.)

5) Transfer each round to a baking sheet and spread with tomato sauce, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Spoon the squash and shallot mixture over the top.

6) Arrange the mozzarella over the squash mixture and crumble the goat cheese on top. Sprinkle with the remaining sage leaves and season with plenty of salt and pepper. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the cheese has melted and the crusts are golden.

~~~

I halved the ingredients and still had enough pizza to send home to my daughters for dinner. Listen, the goat cheese makes this pizza! Don’t skimp on this. I splurged and bought a 3.5-ounce container of crumbled goat cheese for under $3. I have enough left to do another pizza.

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3 Steps to Instant Gratification…My Love Affair With the Kindle App

So I have a BlackBerry Storm smart phone. It is the best phone I’ve had to this point. I am a tech junkie and have loaded and unloaded many megabytes of applications. I keep some for a little while then get bored and move on to the next BBBBA (Bigger, Better, BlackBerry Application). I started with games, then discovered eBook readers. I’ve tried 3 or 4 already. They feed my compulsive need to read. Recently I discovered the Kindle App for BlackBerry. I am totally in LOVE! It fulfills all my addictive reading needs:

1) Amazon has the amazing(!) 1-click® option… I find the book I want to download, press the 1-click® button and INSTANTLY it loads to my phone.

2) The Kindle App integrates perfectly into my phone’s design. I just click (press the screen) on the right side to INSTANTLY advance the pages and on the left side to go back.

3) The Kindle App remembers the last page I was reading and INSTANTLY opens to that page when I click the book name. I don’t have to remember where I was. I don’t even need to bookmarked it manually, but I can if I want.

I love being able to put as many books as my phone’s media card will hold. Some people collect music mp3s. I collect books.

My first downloaded book was What Hath God Wrought by Daniel Walker Howe so I could participate a GoodReads book club.

The rest of the books my current reading list:

Foreign Influence: A Thriller by Brad Thor

Winston’s War by Max Hastings

Delicious and Suspicious by Riley Adams (aka, Elizabeth Spann Craig)

Pretty is as Pretty Dies: A Myrtle Clover Mystery by Elizabeth Spann Craig

Death by Darjeeling by Laura Childs

Gunpowder Green by Laura Childs

Shades of Earl Grey by Laura Childs

While a digital reader will never replace books for the true aficionado, the Kindle App for BlackBerry suits me just fine. Yes, I have to wear my reading glasses when using my phone, but I have to when reading a book too. Eventually I would love to have a Kindle or Sony eBook reader, but for now I am enjoying being able to grab my phone from my purse or back pocket and sneak a couple of pages in while I’m waiting in line or for my dear Hubs to pump gas. At least now, I don’t have to give an account of myself for taking a book on a date! LOL

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