Grandma Sylvia

I’m reading Writing Down the Bones.  In it, Natalie Goldberg has suggestions of what to write about for writing practice.  One topic is to Describe a Grandparent.  So, here goes nothin’, Peeps…

My mom’s mother, Sylvia, passed away just over 10 years ago.  I miss her every single day.  This is a very strong statement considering I’ve unfortunately lost a lot of loved ones in my life.  For some reason, I find myself quoting her, thinking of her, wishing she was here, pretty much each day.  She was our regular babysitter growing up, and after my Dad passed away, we spent many weekends at Grandma’s house during my early teen years.  She was the glue that held our extended family together.  She is missed.

The smell of baking cinnamon reminds me of Grandma.  She was always worried about losing weight, but would bake coffee cake for breakfast.  It was delicious too.  I blame my need for something sweet for breakfast on Grandma.  I seem to remember there was an exercise bike in her basement, but I can’t imagine her ever using it.  Maybe it belonged to one of my aunts.  Haha.  Grandma was not the fitness buff.  I inherited that gene from her too.  And her housekeeping (or lack thereof) gene.

Like most people, chicken soup means comfort to me.  It also brings Grandma to mind.  I remember many times when I was sent home sick from school, after Mom would drop me off, Grandma would tuck me under a homemade afghan and Grandpa would turn on All My Children and we’d all eat Lipton’s Instant Chicken Noodle soup with extra noodles.  When I was pregnant with the twins, I was cursed with horrid morning sickness.  One of the only things I could keep down was instant soup like Grandma used to make.

Speaking of the twins, whenever they ask me to rock them and sing to them, I am reminded again of my Grandma.  Almost all the songs I sing to Lala and Loopsy I learned on Grandma’s lap.  Of course, Mom sang to me too, but who do you think she learned those songs from?    One song in particular was quite morbid, if you listened to the lyrics, but I was always soothed hearing it.  “Captain, captain build me a boat.  And down the river I will float.  And on every ship that passes by, I will see if my Willy’s coming home.  Oh Captain, captain tell me true.  Does my dear Willy sail with you?  Oh no, he does not sail with me.  He has drowned in the deep blue sea.”  So sad.  Poor Willy.

I hate egg salad.  But still, whenever Hubby makes it, I remember sitting at Grandma’s kitchen table and watching her slice hard boiled eggs with that handy dandy egg slicer gadget.  I loved watching her make club sandwiches too.  She’d make them like an assembly line, and she’d always sing or hum while doing so, with a twinkle in her eye and her foot tapping along.  Grandma was often humming.  Unless of course she was pissed at Grandpa.  She was the queen of silent treatments.

Probably the most visceral memory I have of Grandma is sitting next to her on her sofa, watching tv, resting my cheek on her arm, my hand in hers.  Grandma was very cozy.

I miss her.


All Because Two People Fell In Love

Wedding Scroogy

I did then, and I still do!

In honor of our 5th anniversary tomorrow, I’m sharing with the blogisphere our wedding ceremony.  We wrote this ourselves, with the guidance and suggestion of our officiant Rev Hope McNew.

“Welcome to all of you who are here today to share in the joy of this occasion.  Scroogy and Hubby are thankful that you are here to celebrate with them.

“Love is a miraculous gift, and a wedding is a celebration of that magic, and that’s what we’re here to do today.  We are gathered together to be overjoyed for and with Scroogy & Hubby, who are so wonderfully suited to one another that it’s a pure delight for the rest of us to see how very happy two people can be.

“When we think of love we sometimes talk about people who ‘deserve’ one another.  Not only do these two deserve one another, but they are a perfect match, a pair, a fit, two hybrid peas in a pod; and their marriage, far from being something they have had to work hard to achieve was pure inevitability.  They were given to one another and fell so deeply in love that they had no choice.

“They are the embodiment of true romance which, matured, becomes true love.  (Side note… True Romance is one of our favorite movies.) They are the example of love that in its lightheartedness dissolves the notion that love has to be hard work.  They are the promise of possibility, the expectation of joyful surprise.

“So, hooray!  We’re here to celebrate, to honor, to laugh, to dance, and to be glad because the inevitable has happened.  Love is alive and well in the land.  Scroogy and Hubby are here to prove it, and we are here to celebrate with them!”

(As married Scroogy, I have to note here, really quick, that I forget in the hustle and hassle of married life/parenting how easy things used to be with Hubby and me.  Re-reading the ceremony, this is really hitting home.  We used to just be.  Just have fun.  It was easy and nice.  We need to get back to that.)

“In this sacred and joyful moment we call upon the highest in Scroogy & Hubby (this is where Bestie cough-spoke “Ahem, that’s me!” Haha), the divine inner presence that always knows exactly what you need, that gives and asks the best of you, that brought you to love and has chosen for you the sweet commitment of marriage.

“For you we ask every blessing of this moment; a confirmation of the wisdom of your choice; great happiness on the path that is set before you; discretion; kindness; and care as you walk upon it; strength to live out your purpose; grace and peace throughout each step of your journey; and beloved friends to support you.

“May you be filled with joy.  May you keep your promises with ease. May love abide with you always.”

Then my good buddy Murs read Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare.  I love, love, love Shakespeare.  Google this sonnet, Peeps.  I’m sure you’ll recognize it right away.  It’s, to me, the secular version of that popular wedding psalm.  You know the one…

Next my other good friend D to the Ale read “I Love You” by Roy Croft.  Definitely worth googling also, my friends.  I cry every time I read it.  My favorite part is, “I love you,/ For the part of me/ That you bring out;/ I love you,/ For putting your hand/ Into my heaped-up heart/ And passing over/ All the foolish, weak things/ That you can’t help/ Dimly seeing there,/ And for drawing out/ Into the light/ All the beautiful belongings/ That no one else had looked/ Quite far enough to find.”  Tears, tears, tears.

Anyway, the ceremony continued:

“Scroogy & Hubby you have known each other for five and a half years, from the first phone call then the first glance of acquaintance when you finally met face-to-face, to this moment of commitment.  At some moment you decided to marry.

“From that moment of yes until this moment of yes, indeed, you have been making promises and agreements in and informal way.  All those conversations that were held over a drink in Fells Point; or while walking and exploring around New York City; or on the beach in the Caribbean- all those sentences that began with ‘When we’re married’ and continued with ‘I will and you will and we will’- those late-night long-distance phone calls that included ‘someday’ and ‘somehow’ and ‘maybe’- and all those promises that are unspoken matters of the heart.  All these common things, and more, are the real process of wedding.

“The symbolic vows you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, ‘You know all those things we’ve promised and hoped and dreamed- well, I meant it all, every word.’

“As you say the words that will join you in marriage, look at one another- remember this moment in time.  Before this moment you have been many things to one another- acquaintance, friend, companion, lover, partner, and even teacher, for you have learned much from one another in these last five years.  Now you shall say a few words that take you across a threshold of life, and things will never be quite the same between you.  For after these vows you shall say to the world, ‘This is my husband.  This is my wife.’

“Scroogy & Hubby, you are each taking into your care and keeping the happiness of the one person in all the world whom you love best.  You are adding to your life not only the affection of each other, but also the companionship and blessing of a deep trust as well.  You are agreeing to share strength, comfort, and responsibilities for the rest of your lives.

“In light of this, do you take each other to be your lawfully wedded spouses?

We said our “I dos” at this point and if I remember correctly, this is when I really started crying.  I remember focusing just on him, and the rest of the room disappeared.  He even wiped a tear off my cheek.  Did the photographer capture that part?  No.  Dammit all.

“Delight in each moment of your being, for every understanding is noteworthy but few events in life are as momentous as marriage.  We ask that you both, together and as you special selves, be honored and expanded by the promises you are about to make and in the marriage you are about to create.  May the joy you feel today last for your lifetime together, and may love always be in your midst.

“Now before your families and friends, please repeat your vows to express your love and devotion to each other.”

Here comes my favorite part, Peeps!

“I choose you to be mine.  I will laugh with you and cry with you, and share my life openly and honestly with you.  I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph.  I will treasure and respect you, comfort and encourage you, and together we will live, freed and bound by our love.  As I’ve given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep.”

I love the freed and bound part.  Because more than anything, falling in love with Hubby gave me such peace and lightness.  Like I found my wings.  True story.  Stop rolling your eyes.

Then we exchanged rings.  This part is boring.  Haha.  I know it’s symbolic and all, and I love jewelry, but, ya know.  Whatevs.  Hubby doesn’t even wear his wedding band.  He uses it as a key chain.  No joke.

Then, tada!!!  We were pronounced Hubby and Wife!

“Now that you have heard the words about love and marriage, now that you have shown us the example of your love and celebrated your union by giving each other these beautiful rings, it is with great joy and happiness that I now say: by the power vested in me by the state of Maryland, I now pronounce you husband and wife.

“May the love in your hearts give you joy.  May the greatness of life bring you peace.  May your days be good and your lives be long upon the earth.

“Seal a promise, make a wish, then bind your hearts, with a wedding kiss.”

I love that little part in the end.  A bit of bippity-boppity boo!  Aww.

Then the party started right.  Then the party started quickly, right?  Sorry, that was just stuck in my head.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this little peek into one of the most special days of my life.  I really love re-reading the ceremony every year.  It helps remind me of who we were then, and helps me examine who we have become.  Earlier this year, we were in a rough patch.  But lately things have been so wonderful.  I love him more today than the day we married.  I didn’t know that was possible.

A book review… of sorts

Seems like EVERYONE is blogging or FB posting or talking with their actual mouths about the 50 shades of Grey trilogy.  Even dear Bestie texted me again this morning to ask if I’d finished the book yet.

Nope, Peeps, I have not.  I’m still in the beginning, right after the bathtub b.j. scene.  Sigh.  Even the kinky bits aren’t keeping me interested.  I’ve read lots of books with kink.  Not sure I should be saying that with such pride.  But I digress…

What is bothering me about this book is that there are scenes that are directly copied from Twilight.  Entire scenarios are tweaked just so, but still recognizable as a scenario from Twilight.  I know the author began this story as fan fiction, so I knew to expect it.  I just didn’t know it would bother me so much.

I am not against fan fiction as a practice, as a writing exercise.  There are many instances where I have an idea for another author’s characters and I’m tempted to go there.  (OMG, especially TV characters.  Soap Opera characters to be most specific.  One day I’ll write about what happened next for Kendall & Zach)  But, I haven’t yet gone there.  And I certainly wouldn’t feel right getting such a piece of work published.  It would feel cheap and like I was fooling everyone, including myself.  I have my own stories inside me.  Those are the ones I OWN.  Anyway.  It’s not like EL James is the first person to do this.

I first encountered fan fiction a few years ago at the library.  I saw a slew of reworked classics. Mr. Darcy, Vampyre and Wuthering Bites were the two I decided to read.  Google it, Peeps, there are tons of them.  Even a Romeo & Juliet one.  Anyway, I loved the originals, Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights, of course.  The vampire twists were a little over the top.  But they were entertaining reads none the less.  Interestingly, even though I wondered how it was “allowed” to copy entire works from another author, it didn’t bother me as much as 50 Shades is bothering me.  Maybe because these authors were long dead and their intellectual property now belonged to the masses.  These originals were taught in classrooms all over the world, so, why not breathe new (preternatural) life into them?

So, I dunno, I’ll probably finish reading it.  I don’t have another book waiting for me yet.  (Well, I am also reading Writing Down the Bones- Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg)

The only book I’ve ever left unfinished was Becoming Madame Mao.  I still regret not finishing that.  So, yes, I’ll push on and finish 50 Shades of Grey.  I’ll let you know if my opinion of it changes by the end.


I am Grateful Everyday

Yes, every day.

Last year, when my Mojo Journey was in its infancy, I read a book by Dr. Daniel Amen called Change Your Brain, Change Your Body.  In it, he details ways you can use the power of positive thought, along with supplements and small dietary and behavior changes, to really improve your health.  His basic philosophy was this: Meditation or prayer, Exercise, Sex, and Nutrition are vital to being the healthiest that you can be.  Not necessarily in that order.

So, I started going back to Church.  At first, it was incredibly uplifting.  I was comforted by the familiarity of the ritual.  I found in it an inspirational place to convene with my Maker.  One priest in particular was especially effective in helping me clear my head and embrace my spirituality.  But then, the little bits of new Vatican doctrine started to slip in.  I started feeling taken away from that peaceful place and feeling stifled and, I’m not sure how to put it, stunted, maybe?  I found myself less and less inspired to go to mass.

So Church stopped being an effective way for me to pray or meditate.  I’m still struggling to find that place of peace. I can’t see myself sitting cross-legged and chanting.  I did get into yoga once and found it left me feeling peaceful and centered.  Maybe I’ll give it another shot.

One thing that I have stuck to, in regards to Dr Amen’s advice, is to write down everyday that I am grateful for.  I keep a food diary, and list in it how much water I drink, what vitamins I take, and also I list 5 gratitudes for the day.  Some days it’s a stretch to list all 5.  But I find it important because if I don’t take a moment each day to remember that I have it pretty good, I’ll just let the bad thoughts fester and bring me down.

I challenge you Peeps to do the same.  You might find it as helpful a tool as I have.  You might find that you have areas of your life you need to change in order to be able to be grateful.  You might find that you have more going for you than you had realized.

These things don’t have to be profound, because often the simple blessings are the ones we forget to appreciate.  For instance, today one of my gratitudes is for crisp, clear, cool water.  It’s readily available, it’s easily taken for granted, it’s something that a huge percentage of the world’s population do not have.

Other days they are profound.  For example, I’m grateful to my husband for getting up with a smile every morning to go to work.  He’s a very dedicated employee, husband, and father.  I am very lucky.

Something just occurred to me, Peeps…  Perhaps this blog is my way of meditating.  I focus on my thoughts, bring them into clarity, and I feel better afterwards.  Hm…


Benefits of growing old together

Bet you thought this was another post about Hubby.  Fooled ya.

I recently had a wonderful dinner date with my oldest friend.  No, she’s not old.  Well, she’ll always be older than me…  There’s probably been a lot of aging in those 3 months and 20 some days she’s been alive longer than me.  Kidding.  But seriously, I’ve known her longer than anyone except family.

Murs (names have been changed to protect the innocent) and I met in middle school.  We were assigned to the same table at lunch.  Yes, we had assigned seats in the cafeteria.  Apparently our class was the worst group of 7th graders ever to roam the halls of Southampton Middle School.  We didn’t become friends that year, per se, just part of a loosely held together group of school friends- invited to the same slumber parties and such.  Mostly I remember Murs and her friend J drooling over a certain freckled red-headed boy whose table was behind ours.  I have no idea what they saw in him.  I wonder if they even remember that?  Haha.  Memories….

Anyway, we became better friends in high school, but we still were just school friends.  I wasn’t much of a social child, very much a late bloomer.  Murs was in more of a hurry to be a grown up.  I was always a little scared for her.  “Oh My Goodness, Murs was drinking and dancing in The City this weekend?  That seems dangerous!” She was always a little worried about me.  “Holy Crap, Scroogy stayed home and watched old movies with her grandparents this weekend?  When is she ever going to grow up?”  But we shared a sense of humor (“Mais oui, Monsieur Bennet! Zut Alors!”) and it was the beginning of a bond that would last more than 20 years now.

When I went away to college, Murs went away and married a soldier boy.  When I graduated from college, Murs was graduating to newly single womanhood.  We re-connected and began sowing our oats together.  We had a less than successful stint as roommates.  Some personalities just shouldn’t cohabitate.  Love ya Murs.

During said oats-sowing, I was still a little scared for her.  “Oh My Lord, Murs, you’re kissing ANOTHER boy!  Kissing Bandit!!”.  And she was still a little worried about me, “Jesus Christ, Scroogy, stop wallowing in your damn broken heart, grow some balls, and have a little fun!!”  But we still shared that sense of humor “Are you very tiny?”  haha.  And had grown to lifelong friends.

So she married a lawyer from Baltimore and moved to Virginia (dammit), and I married a trading desk jockey from Staten Island and stayed in Baltimore.  She was blessed with her precious baby K about 6 months before I had the twins.  Motherhood, and all its joys and heartaches continued to make me a little scared for her, “Dear God, Let Murs find some guidance and support for her and her little autistic angel.” and make her a little worried about me, “Please Lord, Give Scroogy the patience and energy it takes to keep up after those twins!!”

And now, we are settling into the challenges of marriage and motherhood and seem to be in a very similar place, and we are able to relate to each other even more than ever before.  Murs feels she’s lost her Voice, that certain something that made her amazing.  Just like I feel I’ve lost that elusive Mojo.

So as we both set forth on these new journeys, I’ve gotta say, I’m no longer scared for her.  I’m proud of her.  Murs, you’ve GOT this!

😉 And it’s still not funny that you guys smelled corn.

My favorite time of day

So I posted yesterday about some less than positive feelings, and in an effort to not let those things consume me, I decided today to focus on my blessings.  After all, in the words of Audrey Hepburn (at least according to all those Pinterest quotes), “Happy girls are pretty girls.”

Not that my Mojo quest is all about appearances, but it is about feeling like my best Scroogy self.  So… Happiness is on the agenda today.

My favorite time of day is when Lala and Loopsy wake up, climb into our bed and we cuddle and whisper and laugh.  They do this when Hubby is at work and also on weekends when Hubby is home.  Their warm little bodies cuddle up between us and their little sleepy faces light up the room.  We have the most profound conversations.  About how there are 2 grown ups and 2 kids in our house and 2 and 2 is 4. And how we are a small family, but a happy family.  That little gem came straight out of Loopsy’s mouth.  Moments like that make me feel especially blessed at what Hubs and I are building together.

Sometimes they tell me about their dreams or nightmares.  Lala told me in vivid detail the dream she had about her sister drinking the goopy gop.  I’m not sure what goopy gop is, but it’s green and one is not supposed to drink it.  I marvel at the little imaginations they are developing, even in their sleep.  Loopsy told me this morning that she dreamt about princesses again, and that I was a queen.  Say what you will, feminists out there, about girls and Disney and princesses, but if I get to be a queen, I’m all for that.  Queens kick ass.

If its the weekend and Hubby is home when they wake up,  I gotta say, the sweetest sight on Earth is watching that smile spread across his face as he cuddles with his little girls.  I fall in love with him all over again every time.  The three of them are so lucky to have each other.  Love it.

As much as I love sleeping in, I really have grown to love being woken up by my little ones much more.

Laters, Peeps.  I feel better already.


I’ve been thinking a lot lately about anger and how I process it, and how dysfunctional I am about it.  I think I need therapy, Peeps.  I wonder how much different my life would be if I allowed myself to really express my anger.  Maybe I’d be thin.  Haha- that was a joke.  I don’t eat my emotions.  I eat chocolate and doritoes.

A recent incident has awakened my inner rage-monster, and I’m feeling like if I vent about it to the person involved that it will make Godzilla’s rampage in Tokyo look like a kids toilet papering the neighbor’s tree prank.

I’m not talking about fighting with my husband anger.  That’s more irritation or disappointment or heartache.  I can honestly say I’ve never been truly angry with him.  If I get pissed at Hubby, it’s usually rooted in something else.  Same with the kids.

I’m talking about actual seeing red, unable to control my actions, pure rage.  Those of you who know me well will probably say you’ve never seen me really angry.  That’s because I’m incredibly adept at supressing it.  Probably not healthy, right?

My usual reaction to getting angry is first feeling incredulous.  I just can’t believe that someone could be doing what it is they are obviously doing.  So, I put that feeling on the back burner of my mind and let it simmer.  I try my best to ignore it because I honestly cannot believe the worst in people.  But then something happens that shakes that illusion to the core.

Then, I start to analyze and wonder if I’m somehow responsible for this behavior.  Because again, I cannot believe the worst in others, so I’m almost always willing to share the blame.  How did this start in me?  As I type this and see the words I realize how freaking ridiculous it is.  Why am I in any way to blame?  That’s absurd.  That’s self-centered.  I need to stop that shit.

After I look at the situation from all angles, I discuss it with my closest advisors, namely Bestie and Hubby, to verify that my take on events isn’t skewed.  Again, I’m still not willing to see people as the assholes they are.  And I for some reason don’t trust my assessment of the situation.  What’s up with that?  I’m a pretty smart cookie.  Others come to me for advice.  Why can’t I take my own counsel?  See what I mean about needing therapy?

Finally, I wrestle with the options of how do deal with it.  That’s the stage I’m in now.  I really don’t know what to do.  But I know if I start confronting this person, I won’t be able to keep anything back.  I’m at the boiling point.  Bubbling over, in this case, will not just release my rage-monster and free me, it might hurt others.  And that is my dilemma.  How do I let go and get over this without casualties?

Gah.  Life sucks sometimes.  Pisses me off.  😉

Warning to my daughters. RE: Bad boys

So…  Lala and Loopsy, my dear ones…  You are only 4 now.  At this point you still think the only difference between you and boys is that they usually have shorter hair, usually never wear tutus, and tend to stay away from the color pink.  There will be many lessons to learn in the upcoming years.

I’m reading 50 Shades of Grey.  I can already tell it’s going to be a good read.  Not a good message or representation of a real life relationship, but entertaining, engaging, spellbinding nonetheless.  Still, it inspired me to want to tell you this, to imprint it on your little 4 yr old brains so you won’t face this particular heartache, but, obviously, now’s not the time.  So I put my words of wisdom here on my blog.

In the book, Christian says to Ana, “You should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

Wow, where have I heard this before?  Oh, right, didn’t Edward say something to Bella like, “We shouldn’t be friends.”?

Doesn’t my beloved Bruno Mars sing, “Run away baby, before I put my spell on you.  You better get away, darling, ’cause everything you’ve heard is true.”?  This is the same guy who said, “You’re amazing just the way you are.”  *sigh*

Bad boys, my daughters, are fun, sure, but guard your hearts.

Even I fell sway to the lure of the bad boy.  My very first boyfriend began our relationship by saying something to the effect of, “I’m just going to hurt you.”

What was I thinking, you ask?  Oy.  We had great chemistry, but that’s not the entire story.  He was nursing a broken heart/bruised ego and I thought, “I could be the one to fix him!”  I had this absurd idea that my love was enough to transform him.  *sigh* I don’t know.  I was young and naive and easily swept away by the romance of it.

Ever since reading Wuthering Heights I’d been captivated by that dark, unattainable, tempestuous sort of soul.  I was a dumb girl.  I mean, didn’t Catherine end up miserable and dead?  Shoulda been the first clue that bad boys are not the way to go.

Bad boys bring sex appeal, perhaps poetry or maybe music, brooding good looks, and drama all around.  They captivate us, even though we know they are bad.  Even now I liked Evil “Ripper” Stefan better than Good “No killing people” Stefan on the Vampire Diaries.  I’d always be Team Damon otherwise.  But, like Twilight and the 50 Shades books, fictional bad boys are the only bad boys that are able to be “fixed” or “saved”.

What’s more realistic is that the bad boy will be, um, bad.  He’ll cause countless episodes of drama and will break your heart again and again, but will always come back because, “You’re too good for him.” Your love affair will be tumultuous and passionate, but it will be painful, and most likely, mercifully, brief.  Your friends will hate him, your family will be wary of him.  He will absolutely be wrong for you, but he will feel sooooo right.

Sweet daughters, the take away message from this is: If a man says he’s going to hurt you, that he’s wrong for you, BELIEVE HIM.  Edward Cullen and Christian Grey only exist in the minds of female authors.  Seriously.

That is all.  We will now return to the regularly scheduled Mommy programming of “Please don’t pick your boogers.”


Oh, no Mojo!

The past 7 days have been crap as far as my journey towards my Mojo is concerned.  Emotional, tense, lazy, stuffing my piehole with anything and everything…

I know off-weeks are to be expected.  But I find myself searching for reasons for this.  Was it hormones?  It is “that time of the month.”  Who knows.

Maybe its the holiday season.  My kids have been all hopped up on Bunny Rabbit juice or something and it’s been stressful.  Then there’s the fact that Easter was just another holiday with a fractured extended family.  (Long story, Peeps.  Not going to get into it.  At least not now.)

But like they say on Biggest Loser, it’s the season of NO EXCUSES.  I need to pull myself up by my yoga pants drawstring and get back to bidness…

Wish me luck!

50 Shades of… you know the rest

I am a lifelong reader, lover of books.  I believe the first book ever recommended to me was Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.  One of my aunts told me I should read it when I was about 8 or 9.  She gave me her well worn copy and I read it and re-read it and re-read it.  If you haven’t read it, what the hell are you waiting for?  It was awesome.  Still love it to this day.

The next book that I remember someone begging me to read was Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice.  It was my sophomore or junior year in highschool and my goth-ish friend Samantha used to doodle on my folders, “Read Interview with the Vampire” and “I AM the Queen of the Damned”.  At the time, my tastes ran more to romance novels and so I didn’t heed her advice.  Until the summer of my freshman year of college.  I was nursing my first broken heart and was weary of all things love and romance.  At the beach, I picked up a used copy of Interview and just devoured it. Ms Rice is by far my favorite author and I just adore her works.  Pick up Wolf Gift when you get a chance.  It is awesome.

More recently, my mom kept suggesting I read the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.  I just nodded and blew it off.  Wasn’t that for kids?  Young Adults at the oldest?  Pooey.  What does MOM know anyway?  Haha.  Then Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga came out and was all the rage.  I resisted.  Wasn’t that just a vampire version of Harry Potter?  Or something like that?  Well, dear, wise Mom bought me the first two Twilight books for Christmas the year the twins were born.  I tore through them like they were, I dunno,  magazines covered in chocolate and crack.  Seriously, I was addicted.  A Twi-Hard fo’ Life.  I remember staying up until 4 am reading Breaking Dawn, knowing full well my twin one-year-olds would be waking up within a mere hour.  So, after I finished those, I finally took Mom up on her offer to borrow the Harry Potter books.  I read all seven before Spring had sprung.  I seriously love J.K. Rowling.  Her imagination has no (or very few) rivals.  Please read either or both of these series.  Especially Harry Potter.  Read them to your kids.  They are awesome.

Last year my sister in law, whom I didn’t know was a big reader, recommended The Help by Kathryn Stockett.  She didn’t recommend it so much as brought me her copy and said, “Scroogy, ya gotta read this.”  And I read it in a day and a half.  It was that awesome. Read it.

So, now, I finally drank the kool-aid and picked up 50 Shades of Grey by E.L. James.  My Bestie threatened to suspend our friendship unless I read it.  The last book she was adamant about was Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness.  Bestie was right, you know what I’m gonna say.  It was awesome.  So, I’m expecting 50 Shades to live up to the hype.

I’ll let you know how awesome it is another day…