How NOT to Tell Your Child About Maturation!

"What's maturation?" my eleven-year-old Scribe asked me.
    "Ur . . . Well . . ."  Then I remembered, when in doubt, answer a question with a question. "Why, darling?" I asked, donning an awkward smile.
    "My teacher says we're having a maturation class this week."
    Oh. My. Gosh.  I just knew I'd die.  My own "maturation" lesson had been terrible.  As a gangly youth--the tallest girl in my class--I was simply a twig with pimples.  I laughed through the whole facts-of-life-speech.  Then when I got home, I asked my mom, "What's sex?"  My sister kindly volunteered to tell me.  Thinking I'd already learned enough in school, she pulled out a college biology textbook and showed me something that looked like a funnel and something that looked like a test tube with veins.
    "When these two beautiful things come together. A baby is made."

    It seemed scientific AND confusing.  And definitely NOT beautiful.  Whatever the hell those things were, I hoped I'd never come across them in real life!  Little did I know that--God forbid--I had one!
    The Scribe brought me from my thoughts.  "What is maturation?"   
    I had to distract her. "Your teacher finds out what's she's having soon, right?  I bet she's so excited to be pregnant."
    "Mom! Stop dodging the question."
    What could I tell her?  After all, being clueless once, I told my mom, "I can't believe each octopus has eight testicles."  She turned so red that it looked like she'd eaten a frog!
    "Tentacles, honey. Tentacles."
    I shook my heard and turned to the Scribe.  "Fine." I swallowed hard. "Maturation is when you get to find out where babies come from."
    The Scribe thought for a moment. "I hope my teacher will be able to learn from the class. Since she's having a baby, I bet she'd love to know where it came from."
    I busted with laughter.  Is that how my mom felt when I'd had the tentacle conundrum in my youth?
    "Mom, do you want to tell me before the class?" the Scribe asked.
    Was that a good idea?  Especially after my own experiences of not knowing. Like the time in Jr. High when a girl told me she swallowed something and thought she was pregnant.  I just kept wondering, "Swallowed what?"  It'd come from a funnel or a test tube--I just KNEW it!  Or maybe she'd swallowed one of those birth control pills!  
    So, maybe it would be better if I told the Scribe everything.  "I'm not sure, babe."
    "I understand," she said. "I've heard you might want to check me out of school after the class. It can be pretty traumatic for the parents."
    I raised a brow.  That's when I decided to give her "the talk."  And apparently I suck at giving sex talks.  Half-way through a realization dawned on the Scribe.  She stared at me and yelled, "You've done this! YOU did this . . . and that's where I came from?  Oh man!  Man!  And my teacher. . . .  She's going to have a baby.  Oh man!"
    That poor teacher.  The maturation class is today.  She might get a lot of accusing glares from the kids today.
    Anyway, now the Scribe knows I'm not a virgin--I guess you do too.  But seriously--she didn't even like the tentacle story!  Then this morning she refused to go to school, saying she never wants to see another boy again and that she never wants to have kids or to get married.  She followed all of this up by saying I should've just showed her a funnel and a test tube!
    This too shall pass, but for right now, I really hate talking about the birds and the bees.  At least the Scribe finally went to school.  I'm meeting her around two for the official maturation class at school.  Can the apocalypse happen right before this? Please? Because THAT would be easier to deal with.

    How did your first "sex talk" go when it was given to you or your kids?

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I dated a guy in a wheelchair

I dated a guy in a wheelchair.  Yeah.  I don't need any awards, not really.  Plus, it was just one date.  And I was hell-bent on making it a wonderful time for the guy.  His legs didn't worked, but at least he had me.  Part-way through the appetizer I decided I'd marry the guy.  
    I didn't particularly like his personality, but he'd become paralyzed in an accident, so--what the heck--I'd sacrifice my life to entertain him.
    I was sixteen.  Smart enough to realize our marriage might not be that great--solely because my torso was longer than his.  When we went to a movie later that night, he sat three inches shorter than me. I bent my giraffe-like neck, trying to rest my head on his shoulder.  But his shoulder was far lower than mine, and after a while my crooked neck pulsed with pain.
    The movie looked weird sideways--but who cared--I was putting my head on this guy's shoulder 'cause he was in a wheelchair. My vision blurred.  Blood went into my forehead and I nearly blacked out.
    We still didn't get along too well, but it was more romantic than dying in love's embrace.  So I kinda grew teary-eyed, thinking how bad my neck hurt for love.  Someday we'd get married.  I'd be in a neck brace and he'd be in his wheelchair.  Yeah.  

When I was sixteen, I had the best intentions.  It's a good thing the guy didn't marry me--the worst thing that could've happened to him.  He may have been in a wheelchair, but I was the one with an underdeveloped brain.

Anyway, I thought about this memory and laughed out loud.  Did you ever do something completely stupid when you were a teenager on a date?

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Random Acts of Kindness Week #7--A Fisherman With Mike's Fishing Charters

My dad and I decided to catch some fish. We got on the boat and introduced ourselves to the three-man crew. Captain Joaquin had a handshake I'll never forget.  So much kindness and confidence shone in his eyes as he told us about his boat, Isabela, and how that particular day was Mother's Day in Mexico.  The two other hands--who'd help us fish--quickly introduced themselves as Pablo, the captain's nephew, and Mariano.   
    After sailing farther into the open sea, the Mexican waters rumbled underneath us, making the boat rock left and right. The sun beat down and a few fish jumped out of the water in front of us, their scales sparkling like a frozen margarita I drank the night before.
    As we skipped across the endless ocean, I sidled to Isabela's prow and instantly remembered a story I had told my daughter after my son passed away.

My Dad took this picture in that moment.

 

   
    “Why did he leave us, Mama? Why?” My daughter asked years ago. I couldn't believe how she could ask such hard questions, even at the age of four.  She sniffled and I held her closer. 
    “Hush,” I crooned as she clung to my arm.
    “I don't understand.”  She cried hard.  “Why didn't he wake up?  Why did he go away?”
    I wanted to tell her it's because life is hard, because life isn't fair. It's because I couldn't keep my baby, no matter how hard I wanted to. But, even though I wished I could tell her all that, I didn't. I remained quiet for a long time. Then I cooed to her, sang into her golden curls. That's when I told her Zeke's story one more time.
    “Once, in a faraway land, there was a strange castle by the sea. In that castle lived some very special children named Ruby and Zeke.”
    “I like this story. Can Zeke stay with me this time?”
    “I wish he could, but that's not how the story goes.”
    She hesitated. “Well, then, I want to go with him.”
    That made my heart tighten. I hugged Ruby. I couldn't imagine her following her brother--couldn't comprehend losing her too.
    “Tell me the part about when the witch comes,” Ruby said.
    “Well, one day, a deadly, powerful witch found the castle. She was cunning and wise. She knew how amazing the children living there were, and that's when she decided to take one of you deep into the ocean.”
    “But I was too smart.”
    “Yes, you were,” I said. “You outwitted that witch.”
    “But Zeke?”
    “He had to go away.”
    “Why, Mama? Was it because the witch was too smart for him?”
    “Oh, no,” I said. I always had to breathe deeply when I got to that part. “Zeke let her take him.”
    “But why?”
    “Because he knew how to really defeat the witch. He knew if he went, he'd bring about her doom. You see, she thought she'd take his life, but he knew better. He knew that, if he went, he'd get to meet pirates, mermaids. He'd have sword-fights and battle sea creatures.” I looked at the cloudy sky. It reminded me of my conflicted emotions. Somehow, every time I told the story, I saw something symbolic to Zeke's months on Earth. “Adventure awaited him.” I sighed. “If he went with the deadly witch, then, and only then, could he truly live.”
    I blinked the memory away and looked out at the glistening Pacific Ocean.  Death can be terrible.  I felt so alone then, wondering if anyone sailing in the ocean that day knew what it's like to lose a child.  For a moment I wished someone on that boat could understand.  Was I just hurting because it was Mother's Day?  And why was I still hurting about something that happened so many years ago?  I stood straight and told myself to knock it off!  "God," I silently willed Him to help me celebrate life that wonderful day in Mexico, "please let something amazing happen."  As I prayed we cruised into an entire army of birds.  They dive-bombed the water's surface, cawing and splashing. I thought one might poop on me.  I couldn't help laughing--was this God's idea of irony?
    Then Captain Joaquin suddenly yelled and pointed.  "Ballena!  Ballena!  Delfíns!" I looked to the side of the boat and saw two humpback whales and a group of dolphins.
    My dad ran up next to me and we could hardly believe our good fortune.  Whale watching season had ended two months before--yet a mother and baby swam right by the boat on Mother's Day!   
   Then it was Mariano's turn to yell with excitement.  "We've hooked two big fish!"  

   My dad and I started reeling them in.  With Pablo and Mariano's expert help, we were able to pull them in rather quickly.  

My dad is such a Viking--he makes fishing for forty pounders look easy.

 

That gift wasn't genetic!

Here are some fish we caught.   

    Well, I bet you're wondering what this has to do with random acts of kindness.  It's all because of the crew, especially Mariano.

    Whatever fish are given to Mariano, he gives to people in need.  We caught ten big tuna, and he planned to give them to Mothers on Mother's Day.  He knew one woman in particular who'd just had a baby and couldn't find a job.  He hoped a large fish like that would help them for quite a while.

    He laughed and joked with my amazing father.  Then it was my turn; I told him how I'm an author and how I wrote a fantasy story about pirates and mermaids--about a boy who went deep into the ocean.  "I'm writing the sequel," I confided, "and I think the three of you might end up as pirates!"

    He laughed so hard.

    I thought again about Zeke and decided it had been so silly to wonder earlier if anyone sailing the ocean that Mother's Day knew what it's like to lose a child.  Why had I been sad when so much joy was waiting there the whole time?

    It wasn't until later, when we were about to say goodbye, that Mariano pulled me aside.  He said he felt like telling me something; that's when he shared the story of his courageous daughter who'd bravely fought cancer before she went to Heaven at the age of fourteen.  "Hard times can happen," he said, "but they happen for a reason."

    I wanted to hug him.  A load lifted from my heart.  He smiled, seeming like he knew exactly how I felt.  He was a kindred spirit, an amazing fisherman, and a generous soul.

    It was the most wonderful fishing trip ever.  I'm heading over to Tripadvisor HERE to leave a special review for Mike's Fishing Charters.  I'm taking Janie Junebug's lead on this one, and asking for you to help me with this week's act of kindness.  If you have time, would you go leave a positive review for Mariano, Pablo and Joaquin--the fishermen who made my father's and my vacation even more wonderful than I'd dreamed of. 

    Here's that direct link if you need it: http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g150793-d2446348-Reviews-Mike_s_Fishing_Charter-Puerto_Vallarta_Pacific_Coast.html

Thank you! 

Also, check out the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.  

I'd love if you'd join up.  

 

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We ran into a crocodile in Mexico!

Here are some pictures from our vacation.  Tomorrow, I'll write about a fisherman in Puerto Vallarta who blessed my life.


  Top Row: Cade, Me, My Mom, My Dad Middle Row: The Hippie, The Scribe Bottom Row: Dr. Jones, The Zombie Elf     Before breakfast at the resort.         Yep, my mom put her glasses on the Zombie Elf. He's a ham!
A crocodile we saw.     See it down below?  It heard the baby crying and swam right over to us!~     These statues at the Grand Mayan in Puerto Nuevo were well over fifty feet tall. I LOVED this--it made me realize how small my problems really are.   Doctor Jones
The Scribe took this of my new dress from downtown Puerto Vallarta.  It had chocolate stains on it, so I got it for 1/2 price!   Yahoo for chocolate.  Too bad all of the stains didn't come out--they're pretty hard to see though.     I'll be writing more about this tomorrow.    Wait 'til you see what else my dad and I caught!   The Scribe caught a lizard. No wonder she's friends with all the boys at school!  
 
  Cade and the babies are so much fun!   I'll write about the fisherman tomorrow. Have a great night. 

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Random Acts of Kindness Week #6--My Late Son's Birthday & a Miraculous Angel

 Zeke Jackson was born on 11/18. At the end of January the following year, he died in my arms.

    

Zeke would have been ten years old. 
I'll never forget him or the lessons he taught me.

This post is written for the

Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest  
Click HERE to sign up.  

A Miraculous Angel

The computer tech reminded me of a young version of Mr. Miyagi, wise and reassuring. At the quaint computer store, Miyagi Jr. quietly accessed my laptop and said he could fix it immediately and be done within a half hour. So I waited and before realizing what happened, that man gave my four kids candy--we joked and laughed about life--my mood AND the mood of the store changed, becoming brighter.

    When it came time to pay, he wouldn't let me. "This is on me," he said.

    "You have to let me pay," I said. "Look at all the work you've done."

    He eyed me thoughtfully, stroking his long goatee. I thought he might see straight through me. Maybe he'd understand that something rested beyond my joking and laughter. Zeke's birthday was fast approaching and I didn't want to feel the ache that day always brings.

    Miyagi Jr. nodded and said, "There's a pizza place around the corner. A man always works there at this time. If you'd really like to thank me, go order a pizza and visit with the man who's working there. Visit with him just like you visited with me."

    Visit with the man?  It sounded strange. What could he possibly mean? It was my turn to study him. "All right," I finally said, then grabbed my youngest kids' hands and stepped toward the door. 

    Just as the bell rang above the exit and I walked outside, I heard another tech ask Mr. Miyagi, "Are you sure you should send her over there? You know what happens when some people go there when he's workin--"  The door shut and I didn't hear another word.

    "Mama, where are we going now?" my four-year-old son asked as I buckled him in his seat.

    I inhaled a big breath. "Well, that nice man wouldn't let me pay. So we're going to buy him a pizza."

    The pizza place was tucked back at the edge of a dilapidated parking lot.  People swarmed to other businesses around, but no one went to the forlorn restaurant.     

    "You stay in the car. Keep an eye on the babies," I told my oldest daughters.

    "Mom, are you sure you should go? This whole thing sounds weird," my second-oldest daughter said.

    "I'm just getting a pizza. The computer tech needs to get something for all of his hard work."  I turned music on for the kids, stepped from the car and locked the black doors.

    The pizza place didn't have tables, chairs or benches. But the spotless counter gave me a good impression. As the smell of fresh breadsticks wafted toward me, my insides warmed with childhood memories. I stepped forward and rang the metal bell.

    "Hello?" I said.  "Hello?"  Someone moved in the shadows at the far end of the kitchen.

    A man lumbered forward. At first I couldn't see his face because he'd turned it down and away.

    "Those breadsticks smell amazing!" I said.  Then he fully turned toward me and I gasped.

    The left side of his face was so handsome. He had a striking brown eye and perfectly dark skin. But the other side of his face drooped and bulged.  The forehead on his right side stretched a fist taller than the rest of his face.  His right eye couldn't open, nestled below his nose.  

Click the picture for more information about how to help people with this condition.

    "What do you want?" he mumbled.

    I nearly cried, feeling so badly for gasping seconds before.  I blinked hard, collecting myself, and instantly donned a smile.

    "How are you today?" I asked brightly.

    "I'm . . . all right," he said, turning so I only saw his profile. "And you?"

    "I'm having a fantastic day. I went to that computer repair place over there.  They fixed my computer for free.  So I'd like to order a large peperoni pizza for them."

    His curious eye darted toward mine.  "They've been very good to me as well." His words came out slowly and cautiously.

    I wanted to make an impact, then. But how? I could have told him that my first son had birth defects. Explain how Zeke had a cleft lip and palate.  My stomach knotted, remembering how I'd wanted Zeke to be born perfect, live a good life, and die long after I did. I looked at the pizza man and wondered for the millionth time, why do birth defects exist?

    But instead of talking about Zeke, Miyagi Jr.'s words drifted into my mind.  Visit with him just like you visited with me.   

    So I shot the bull with him as he made the pizza.  I told jokes about how I worked at a pizza place once. "When I was on the clock, they were always running out of pineapple," I said. "It's my weakness, really."

    "I know what you mean," he mumbled, then laughed. "I always eat the pineapple too. It's a good weakness though."
    "Agreed."

    When he finished the peperoni-extra-cheese, he came over to the counter. "Don't worry about bringing this to them. I'll bring it for you and tell them an angel bought them lunch."

    I've been a lot of things, but I've never been someone's angel. As I gazed into the man's eye, I thought of how hard I try doing everything right--so I can see my son in Heaven. But I never feel good enough. Tears welled in my eyes and I couldn't look away from the man. No. I wasn't an angel, he was--smiling and laughing despite his lot in life. It could take years to learn what that man had suddenly taught me about gratitude.

    I lingered because so much kindness shone from his deep, dark eye. "Thank you. You have yourself a wonderful day," I said, turning to leave.

    Just as I pushed the door open, he stopped me. "Wait," he said, and I turned. "Thanks for coming in here today. It's a cruel world out there, but people like you make it a better place."

    I held the door open for a minute longer. "Not people like me," I said. "Wonderful people like you."  I smiled one last time. "Hey, enjoy the pineapple, it is the best part of working at a pizza place."

    "I will," he promised and I left the store.

    As I drove home, clouds grayed the sky overhead. The sun shone brightly in the east, shedding light even through the storm.  I told my kids the story. "I don't know who was more of an angel, the pizza man or Miyagi Jr."

    "Mom, you haven't said a word about the guy's face. I saw him through the window. Didn't you notice something was really wrong with him?"

    There hadn't been a reason to mention his physical defects. "He was born with problems like Zeke was. But just like Zeke, he was beautiful inside. It makes me wonder though. . . . Why do you think the computer tech sent me to the pizza place?" I asked my oldest daughter.

    "Maybe he realized you treat everyone with the same kindness no matter what. That says a lot about you, Mom."

    "No," I sniffled. "It says a lot about him."

    I pulled off and parked on the side of the road after that. I got out and looked into the storming sky. I thought about my book The Golden Sky--the book about how God and Zeke changed my perception--how sometimes beauty comes right after the storms of life. 
    As I gazed at the widening clouds, a raindrop fell on my nose and somehow I felt like Zeke was looking down on me, beaming. 

       

If you're reading this it means that I've successfully scheduled a post. Yahoo!  I'm in Mexico right now and will be back just after Mother's Day.  Have an awesome week.

-Elisa 

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Random Acts of Kindness Week #5--A Miraculous Blessing From Little Caesars' Corporate Office

Something amazing happened on Wednesday.   
Let me explain . . .

Do you remember when I wrote about this:

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2 -- Little Caesars Harlem Shake

Well, this Wednesday, I checked Wayman Publishing's mailbox and Little Caesars sent me two $20.00 Little Caesars gift cards and the sweetest letter! I started crying after I read it.  The guy (from a Michigan office) found my post and decided to pay it forward.  He asked me to give one $20 card to someone else--I'll tell you about that in a minute--and to keep the other one to use for my family.  I'm still in shock.  I LOVE Little Caesars!
    Here's the letter they sent to me: 

So I was really excited,and I decided to tell the wonderful man who normally works mornings at that US Post Office.  
    John is an amazing man.  He always treats everyone with respect and helps however he can.  He's very efficient and because of him, and the other awesome employees there, I drive to another city, just so I can go to that post office.  
    As I told John about the letter from Little Caesars, I immediately realized that I should give one of the gift cards to him.  I smiled thinking how the last two times I've tried to give random gifts to "strangers," the recipients both ended up being people who'd been kind to me in the past!  (Remember the flowers and the Barnes & Noble Gift Card?) 
    John seemed excited about the gift card.  I hope he knows how much all of the customers appreciate his kindness and thoughtfulness.    

Well, I'm leaving to Mexico this week.  But I'll still have something posted next Friday--a past Random Act of Kindness that blessed my heart.

Check out the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.  

I'd love if you'd join up.  

 

Other big news?

My humorous novella/audiobook, "How to Avoid Having Sex," was just featured on CBS News HERE

And FOX News: HERE

I'm floating on air!

What a wonderful week. 

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Have you ever fought over which television show to watch with your spouse?

HGTV and Me By John Hartnett
My wife loves the HGTV Network.  It stands for Home and Garden
Television, and in our one TV household, there is nothing more deflating for me than walking into the living room on a Friday night,
all set to cuddle up with the Mrs. while watching an On Demand movie and see that I am too late.
     I am too late because my wife is already engrossed in the heart
rending story of a desperate couple from Pacific Palisades, CA, who suddenly find themselves struggling against all odds to find the
perfect pied-à-terre in Barcelona -- and by perfect they mean a
pied-à-terre that doesn't cost one penny more than their modestly
budgeted $1.7 million but absolutely must have a minimum of six walk in closets, an indoor lap pool that recedes into a wall when not in use, a 600 sq. ft. balcony with eight-foot railings for their rescued
Bengal tiger, Shoshona, an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean and a garage door that folds up like an accordion, but vertically.
     Yes, I'm jealous.  I want somebody from HGTV to help me fix up my home or help me find a new one.  

I've entered every contest they've offered.  Nothing. It's probably my fault for posting real photos.  If the Joads had passed by my house on their way to California, Ma would have stopped their jalopy long enough to say to her kids, "See that? I told you there's always somebody else worse off than you."
     My house needs work, there's no getting around it, but we have a DIY budget and no DIY skills. My entire family possesses the manual dexterity of a scallop.  To put it in perspective, while attempting to check in to a Marriot Courtyard Suites in Crossville, TN, it took 27 minutes to get all five of us through the revolving door and into the lobby.
     So why does my wife love HGTV so much?  Because every program is essentially the tile and backsplash equivalent of Cinderella or the Ugly Duckling story and because women crave instant transformation projects that work out,  as opposed to instant transformation projects that don't -- namely those involving their husbands.
     So anyway, it's Friday night and here I sit while my wife moves from "House Hunters International" to a taped episode of  "Property Brothers", a show about identical twins with well defined biceps who work with couples to purchase absolute hovels at below market prices, fix them up without exceeding the couple's budget and then mop up the tears of joy that the ecstatic new owners shed after receiving a tour of their newly renovated dwelling and fully comprehending that they have entered the homeowner's equivalent of Heaven, assuming Heaven has
bleached pine flooring and a fenced in yard large enough for an
energetic Jack Russell Terrier named Maxie.
     I'm doing the best I can to get into the show and trying really hard not to say something disparaging about the young woman homeowner whose skepticism that it will all work out is starting to grate on my nerves, but even with a nice glass of wine in front of me, it's impossible.
     First of all, I can't get the thought out of my head that for all the
contests I've entered and never won, everyone over at HGTV must be scared to death to even set foot in my house, let alone fix something, and secondly, the plots of these shows are All. The. Same.
     If I ran HGTV, I'd produce a home renovation remodeling show that would appeal to everybody because in each episode, in addition to seeing a house get all fixed up, there would be a murder.  The police, detectives and the FBI would swoop in and park all over the lawn and on top of insulation, drywall and recently spray-painted coffee tables with sunflower stencils on each corner.
     They'd investigate everything and everyone, dust for prints, take
blood samples, put up yellow tape in places where the paint wasn't dry yet, drag the stars of the show, the homeowners, contractors laborers and nosy neighbors downtown for questioning and snicker when the kitchen designer bursts into tears and tries to explain that the reason she can't possibly stand in a lineup today is because she still has 67 linear feet of kitchen cabinets to prep and sand before Monday noon!
     Wouldn't that be exciting and literally twice as suspenseful?  Not
only would the audience have to worry whether someone was going to be arrested, flee the country, kill again or get the electric chair, they would have to worry about whether the house would be completed on time and on budget and meet the owner's expectations, assuming the owners weren't the ones who were doing the murdering.
     I'm going to apply for a job there and see if I can shake things up. If HGTV won't remake my house, maybe I can remake HGTV.  And restore my Friday nights to their original condition.

© 2013 The Monkey Bellhop and John Hartnett

Monkey Bellhop Site
The Monkey Bellhop FB Page

John Hartnett's Amazing Book:

Click the pic to see it on Amazon

 

Barber's Conundrum FB Page

John's Personal FB Page

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Random Acts of Kindness Week #4--A Man at Barnes & Noble

 This week, a friend and I decided to visit a local Barnes and Noble to do something nice for a stranger. We talked about various things. Paying for an order before or after us. Buying someone's coffee in the coffee shop. Purchasing a beloved book and giving it to a stranger in the store. All the ideas were fun, but they didn't feel quite right in this instance.

    As we walked around, I remembered last April. My first big signing was only a year ago at that same Barnes & Noble. It's amazing what's happened since then. I've talked at dozens of schools and been to many signings anywhere from coffee shops, books stores, fairs, schools, restaurants and libraries.
    Here are some pictures from Barnes & Noble at my first big signing:

That signing is one of the best memories I have. The employees were so kind. They printed posters about my books and put them all over the store. At the signing, they brought drinks to Cade and me. One of the employees even went above and beyond, visiting with us, making us feel important as he bought our CD. He even let Cade and me play music inside the B & N store!

     After walking around for a while the other day, my friend and I stood in line. I joked with the cashier.  She hadn't been there last year.  A few members of their staff had changed; they even hired new managers.   
    While purchasing the gift card, I glanced at someone who sidled behind us in line.  I couldn't wait to give him the gift card.  Sure we could have left it with the cashier and had her give it to the guy, but for some reason I felt like giving it to him myself.
    After buying the gift card and receipt, my friend and I immediately turned to the man behind us. "This is for you," I said.  Then I caught his eyes fully and gasped. He was the kind employee who'd helped me at the signing last year. He's the one who let us play music in the store. He's the one who kept bringing us drinks before buying our CD! 
    "Why?" he asked, and I'm sure he didn't recognize me.
    "We're doing random acts of kindness, trying to spread some joy."
    Then we left. And I keep wondering about the odds of that man being in line behind us? Does he still work at Barnes & Noble? I'm still not sure if he recognized me, but I hope he knows how thankful I am for everything he did for Cade and me last year. Writing can be hard, sharing everything with the world, getting rejections, or negative feedback. But people like him--and you--have really inspired me to keep going through this writing journey.

    Isn't it strange that for the last two acts of kindness I've wanted to give something to strangers, but they've both ended up being people who've already blessed my life?  Here's the previous story if you'd like to read it: Flowers for a Stranger 

Maybe it just proves that what goes around does come around.... 


I've vowed to do a random act of kindness (and write about it) once a week until the end of May--when the R.A.K. Blogfest starts.    

Please check out the blogfest HERE.  

I'd love if you'd join up.     

P.S. Cade and I are giving away $50 for Mother's Day.  Feel free to take a second to enter HERE if you have time.  

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Yahoo! My First Audiobook was just Released and it's on iTunes!

Yep, How to Avoid Having Sex is now an audiobook, available on iTunes and Amazon.  Allie Mars did an AMAZING job narrating it--you can listen to a sample HERE by visiting the link and clicking under the picture on Amazon!

    I have to say that I loved writing this book.  It was hilarious trying out different "theories about avoiding sex" on Cade.  Too bad he caught on and starting trying them on me too!  And now that he knows what I was up to, I can never use these wonderful ideas again--like fake sleeping, mock-anger, grieving over stupid things, etc.
    But even funnier than that, is the man who asked if this was first published over thirty years ago.  "No," I said. "Why?"
    "Because if it was, I think my wife read it and took it to heart."
     Another woman bought a copy at a signing and immediately hid it under her jacket as she looked around, making sure no one saw her purchase.  Is this novella like booze?  Should I sell it with a small paper bag?
     Anyway, I had a ball writing this book since the material is mostly silly, almost meant to be a joke.  But the irony is that all of these ideas can actually work.  

Have fun avoiding sex and otherwise.
 ~E

P.S. Last night I gave my kids massages and facials because they cleaned the house. We used apples since we didn't have cucumbers. Anyway that baking soda mask really works. It's just two parts baking soda, one part water. :) I LOVE these pictures.  And I hope this will inspire my kids to clean the house more often!

P.P.S. Cade and I are giving away $50 for Mother's Day.  Feel free to take a second to enter HERE if you have time. 

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Mother's Day Celebration

Enter for a chance to win $50 

and check out some newly released books!

Wayman Publishing has joined VoiceBoks and The Social Media Panel to promote this giveaway and feature some of our newly released books! 

Also, check out these eBooks--

each less than a dollar!

Don't forget that if you buy any of Wayman's books, you can be entered to win an iPad Mini! 

More details HERE!

Here's how to enter for the PayPal Cash Wayman Publishing is giving away for Mother's Day.  It's open internationally so anyone can enter to win.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Have a wonderful day and don't forget to check out other participating bloggers who are also giving away great prizes and cash HERE.

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What is True Beauty?

    I stood amidst a huge crowd.  So many people clustered there, shuffling around.  "Where are we?" I asked one man who remained stretching.
    "We're getting ready to race," he yelled above the commotion, obviously shocked I didn't already know what went on.  "It's time to pick your partner, or decide if you want to make it on your own.  I'm making my own way."  He pointed ahead.  "That's the only way to win."
    The mountainous road in front of us looked tragic, with bumps and potholes.  Almost everyone wore running shoes and shorts.  I looked down; I wore them as well.  What seemed strange, though, was the fact that we were spirits, not flesh.
    My heart suddenly beat fast. The trail ahead said something simple, something terrifying. "The Race of Life," I read the fading words.  "If you so desire, pick your partner before you get a body."
    I closed my eyes and wondered, was I meant to race alone?  If not, I needed to find someone to run with--and fast--the race was about to start.  I mulled over the crowd, and grew frantic all the while. 
    One man approached me, but I knew he didn't have what it would take.  My arms pushed past him and moved along.  Who could I race with?  They needed to have similar goals, similar ways of thinking.  They would have to be fun and inventive.  A hard worker, a good father if we ended up having children.
    "We'll race in ten minutes!" a voice boomed.
    About a million girls circled around a handsome spirit.  He beamed from the attention and I wondered over the sight.  I finally crouched on one knee.  It was useless, the spirit I searched for probably didn't exist.  I needed someone who would help me finish the race and not just run it.  
    I tied one of my running shoes and prayed, "God, I'm scared to get a body.  I'm scared to live.  What if I stumble and fall?  What if I forget your power and your love?  What if I make terrible choices?"
    Tears came to my eyes because it was scary.  I was about to leave the comfort around me, the peace of seeing God's face in Heaven's eternity.  
    Many of the people around pulsed with anxiety as well.  I wondered how they would fair.  Would even one of us succeed?  I stood tall then, dusted the dirt from my running shorts, put my hair in a ponytail and got ready to run.
    Hundreds of people had already paired with each other, but I remained alone, refusing to be nervous any more. 
    Sure, I could lose almost everything, but I refused to lose my faith.  
    I bent forward.  The journey would be hard.  I could make it on my own, though--I had to.  At any minute the whistle would blow, and so much depended on the race.
    My breath slowed in concentration as I studied the wide road ahead.  Then a hand touched my shoulder and I turned.  
    A spirit stood beside me--an amazing spirit.  "I'm Cade," he whispered, and with those simple words, I knew I'd met my match.  
    "I've been looking for you," I said.
    "And I've always been looking for you."  He held my hand, making me feel truly beautiful and complete, truly worth something despite anything that might happen on Earth.  "Are you ready for this?" he asked, smirking.
    "You bet I am," I winked and that's when the whistle blew.   

    Happy 12th anniversary, Cade! I love you.

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