Make Something & Pass It On

Random acts of kindness have turned into little gifts for you. A great opportunity to get some MoXie swag and pay it forward. I would especially like the opportunity to create for people I've never met (but I'll make stuff for the people I love too!!)

The first five (5) people to respond to this post will get something made by me.
This offer does have some restrictions and limitations so please read carefully:

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. Whatcha get is whatcha get.

2. What I create will be just for you, with love.

3. It'll be done this year (2009).

4. I will not give you any clue what it's going to be. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber. It may be weird or beautiful. Or it may be monstrous and annoying. Heck, I might bake something for you and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!

5. I reserve the right to do something strange.

6. In return, all you need to do is post this text on your blog and make 5 things for the first 5 to respond to blog.

7. Send your mailing address - after I contact you.

IMPORTANT: This offer is null and void if I do not see you post your own blog to pay this forward.

OUR WEEK

This week has not been the most productive, but I've been nursing a sick child and trying to find some order in the chaos around here.
We depart for DC early Sunday morning and, while I am excited and anxious for my dad to get here, I am dealing with an unexpected sadness that seeing Washington, DC again will not be in my foreseeable future. But again, that is for another post.

So here's our week - in picspam.


Liz wrote this for me. In case you can't read it, it says "LOVE", but I think she did a perfect job.

When my kids are sick, I usually have a very difficult time getting them to eat anything, so I usually accomidate whatever hunger whims they seem to have. Liz had her heart set on a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, so that is what I made her. She said it was delicious and gobbled it right up. I think it would excellent to toast it in the sandwich maker. Might have to try that sometime.


Iggy (top) and Thessie (bottom) thought it was playtime when I was changing the linens on the bunkbeds. So of course I had scratch their bellies. Iggy, being the baby, was trying to laydown for a catnap, but I snapped this pic of him sneaking a peek at me. Thessie, on the other hand, was going to stop at nothing to get the camera strap.
Today was the series finale of Battlestar Galactica. I am going to miss it terribly, but not nearly as much as my BFF. In honor of her birthday and a truly spectacular TV show, I created the BSG Survial Kit, complete with cookies, hot cocoa and tissues. Wanna make some of the delish cookies for yourself??
Click here for the recipe.

As our final hurrah before shipping off to the north, we went to the Wetland Preserve at the Discovery Center. There we witnessed a snake in the water stalking his prey (very very far away from us), geese and ducks and a few turtles. It was absolutely beautiful, but I could have done without the stench of the algae. Hopefully the tadpoles will eat the bulk of it in the coming month.

Thanks for checking out our week.

PECAN ALMOND CHOCO CHIP COOKIES

I baked these delicious cookies for my friends birthday. They are super yummy and chewy.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 1/2 c ups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground sea salt
1 1/2 cups mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
3/4 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup almond slivers

DIRECTIONS
Let butter soften. With mixer, blend butter and sugar until just smooth (don't over blend). Add egg and vanilla and mix until liquid is incorporated. Add 1 cup flour, baking soda and ground sea salt and mix until flour is blended. Add remaining 1 1/2 cups flour and mix. *Make sure there are no lumps of white flour, but do not over mix the dough. Add chocolate chips and nuts and mix with a spoon.

[Okay, this is a good place to grab a spoonful of dough and give it a taste. You know you've been dying to since you set the butter out to soften. But I suppose I should also add that eating raw eggs carries a risk of salmonella poisoning, but I think I speak for most of us when I say that is a risk we are willing to take.]

The cookies will be more uniform and chewy if you chill the dough before baking. Cover the dough with plastic wrap, pressing the wrap firmly against the dough (this will keep it from drying out in the fridge). But since I know you don't want to wait the 30 minutes for the dough to chill in the fridge, you can stick it in the freezer for about 15 - 20 minutes.

While your waiting, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Using a cookie scoop*, layout 12 level blobs on the cookie sheet, spread out evenly. Slighly flatten each lump (we're not trying to make pancakes here, just a little press to flatten the rounded center.) Bake for 9 minutes or until edges are slightly golden and centers are no longer shiny. Remove from the oven and leave on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes. Lift each cookie to a cooling rack and cool completely. (Well, except for that one that your eating right now. Be careful, the chocolate is still hot.)

Store in an airtight container for ultimate chewyness.

* If you don't own a cooke scoop, you really should get one. They are fabulous. But since I still want you to have cookies... Hand roll dough balls, slightly smaller than a golf ball and lay out on the baking sheet. Press balls until the rounded domes are flat (they should still be think lumps.)

Yield will vary depending on your scoop. I usually get 2 dozen 2 1/2 " cookies.

ENJOY!!

WEEKEND SPECIAL

.·:*¨¨*:·.B U Y TWO (2) G E T ONE (1) F R E E COASTER SALE!.·:*¨¨*:·.

Buy any three coaster sets from my shop and get the lowest priced set FREE!
Includes both recycled sets and vinyl stars!!

Click here for the details.

Star sets are available in silver, black, red, blue and purple. If you would like to order multiples of a color (ie 3 sets of purple stars) please send me a convo.

Thanks & Happy Shopping.

Just like Heaven

(center)ohsewmoxie, (top left clockwise) Boojiboo, kittyinpinxbody, tsaifi, misscrochet, myfamilyties, owlishly, gingersnapboutique, paintedpostcards, graciousmay, blaubeermund, aoisart, karenisa

I am obsessed with fresh strawberries in vanilla yogurt. And more than that, I am loving the vivid reds in the strawberry, from the deep pigmented outer hull to the soft gradiant pinks and red in the slices. Mostly, strawberries look like spring, from their vibrant green vines to the delicate white blossoms. This year, more than any other I can remember, I have been longing for spring.

Winter is usually my favorite time of year - growing up it signified a cooling point for south Houston and in TN it meant a chance for snow - but winters have become disappointing for me in the past few years. First the lack of snow really brings me down. Call it changing weather patterns, global warming, bad karma, but I moved here, almost 20 years ago, because of snow (& other now insignificant things.) Pair that with seasonal decreased sales, high gas prices, inflated electric bills and general blahs. Honestly, to me, the only good thing about this past winter was the return of Jack Bauer.

But spring, glorious spring. I can already sense its healing glow. I usually detest spring, if only because it will bring the unbearable heat of summer on its heels. But this year, I am embracing it. Already, the air is thick with fragrance from the pear trees. Then the roar of the lawnmowers and the putrid, yet saticfying smell of cut onions. Then the honeysuckle blossoms and that is when it gets me, even in my greatest days of hating spring, I smell that honeysuckle and I'm defeated, assymilated - blissful.

In the pic above are some fabulously talented etsy sellers who caught my attention with their delicious strawberry creations. The center photo is my own (shameless, I know). It has a peek-a-boo strawberry shortcake panel on the inside.

Also, don't miss out on my Super-duper DESTASH Sale in my shop!!

D E S T A S H . S A L E

.·:*¨¨*:·.B U Y THREE(3) G E T ONE(1) F R E E Destash B E A D SALE!.·:*¨¨*:·.

Buy any four bead sets from the destash section of my shop and get the lowest priced set FREE. There is no limit on this offer, so if you get 8 sets, you get 2 free and so on. Please feel free to convo me with any questions.
(Amount of lowest listing will be refunded to your paypal account after payment is received.)

Violets

So my proclaimations of Spring were a bit premature and I now sit here shivering in 40 degree weather. But spring has not fallen completely by the way side.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I was greeted by the site of this little (enormous) violet which sprouted in my terrarium. I took pictures and enjoyed it immensely for the three and a half hours it lasted. Then it gently folded in it's petals and died. (I don't know anything about the life cycle of a wild violet, so this could have been a result of it being inside, or just nature.)

This morning I awoke and looked at my mini environment and was surprised to find ANOTHER blossom sprouted next to the spent one from yesterday. Looking closer, I realize that there is a cluster of developing blossoms that will open in procession. Hopefully these daily little miracles will hold me over until Mother Nature emerges from rehab once again.

In other news, I don't really have any. I am writing (alot) and working on some graphic pieces that will soon be transitioned into screen printed fabrics. Mostly, we're just in a holding pattern waiting to begin the moving process with Dad. It's now 8 days until we leave for DC - for the last time. (But that's another post.)

Spring (apparently) has sprung

Large image: Tiny forest in a champagne fluke,.Small top to bottom: Tiny "fairy wing" in the large garden; delicate tiny onion sprouts under the tree; a giraffe exploring the flat lands.

Today was beautiful. Even prettier than yesterday, so I had to venture out in it. All the little green things of spring seem to be waking up from their winter slumber, so I took some pictures. Then I had the great idea to make terrariums. They are a terrible mess to put together fairly easy to create. I decided to use some wine goblets that were headed to the thrift shop and layered the bits of moss and clover from my yard.


The spongy mid-size moss (type unknown) in the photo above inspired the idea. I started combing the yard for other mosses, etc and came across the tiny onions at the bottom of the tree. You can't tell in the picture, but they are only about 5mm across at the bulb. Adorable.


After I hauled in the moss and rocks and dirt, made a huge muddy mess in my kitchen, and decided I was finished creating tiny worlds for my imaginary woodland friends, I put the remainder of the greenery in a pie plate (I seriously over estimated how much I would need.) Now I have my very own mini-meditation garden. It even came with a tiny little fairy hiding in the thicket.

Large picture: Ms. Altie's fence with her daffodils. She told a great story about this fence that I never fully appreciated until I realized I would never hear it again. Small, top to bottom: Very tiny white blossoms;
a daffodil that survived the last snow; wild violets

IF YOU SHOULD DIE BEFORE I WAKE

"[An] effectively calibrated suspense story."

Publishers Weekly ABNA review - 2010

Sabrina Ryan wants to be an ordinary teenager - family, high school, maybe get a boyfriend.  Instead she has Devon.

Devon is the blood thirsty monster that terrorized her dreams - a demonic little boy responsible for killing their parents. When she woke from the coma, she tried to tell everyone. Instead no one believed her and she got a ticket to a mental hospital. When Devon murdered her favorite nurse, they threw away the key.

Now seventeen, this intelligent, artistic, borderline-paranoid-schizophrenic has been released from the hospital to live with her grandfather.  She’s determined to be “normal’ even if she doesn’t know what it means.  But ordinary things, like ordering off a menu and the mere act of conversation, prove more difficult than she expected.   Then there’s the speed in which a text message can ruin one’s life - in Sabrina’s case, one class period.

With no family - no friends - no sense of reality - and no cure for Devon, she decides she’s better off with no one.   Until she meets Riley, a captivating young bibliophile working for her grandfather, who knows more about her past than she’d like.  Overwhelmed when things heat up quickly, things cool down fast when she learns he has a secret that threatens to tear them apart.

Artistic achievements, horrifying clowns and lucid dreaming take Sabrina on a fantastic ride of Technicolor evil and embraces her determination to rise above it.  If she can figure it all out, she just might get the normal life she’s always wanted.

PAST HER PRIME


Written: 03/09/10
Word count: 939


Alice tried to remember who had given her the key.  She closed her eyes, scanning her memory for an image or at least someone saying "room 213".   She leaned her head back against the gold flecked glass and sighed deeply.   


She couldn't remember anything at the moment.   She'd come to just a few minutes ago, laying face down in a posh cube, spittle streaming from her mouth into a small puddle on the Persian-inspired carpeting. The musty scent of  carpet shampoo and dirt made her stomach woozy.   At first she thought she was in a closet and then panicked about an earthquake before trying to sit up.  Recognizing the upward inertia, she realizes she was in an elevator and the chime above the door confirmed it.


She'd worked her way to her feet, wobbly on the four inch heels she'd forgotten she was wearing.  The peach rumpled taffeta clinging to her curves reminded her of the awards ceremony she'd attended.   Between the harsh lighting and the constant motion, she couldn't maintain her balance and slid down the mirror to the floor.  She reached for her foot to unbuckle the strap of her shoe and found the key.  


Room 213.


Was this her room?   She couldn't remember.  She scanned her aching mind for the last thing she could remember.   She remembered the awards ceremony, the lavish decor and pungent stench of a thousand primped prima-donnas, herself included.   She didn't win, but she wasn't too disappointed - she hated giving speeches.    Then she walked with Damien to the cocktail reception before the dinner, assuring the reporters along the way that she wasn't disappointed, that Helene was magnificent, that she was grateful to have just been nominated.  


"Ahh, champagne," she thought from her leisurely position on the elevator's floor glancing at the carpet and wondering how many thousands of feet had stood on this carpet.   She pushed that thought away and went back to the events of the evening.


Three glasses of champagne and an encounter with Robert had spiked her nerves.  He always knew how to push my buttons, she thought.   After her ex-husband sauntered away, she grabbed Damien and they made their way into the dinner.   


Table 48. 


They seated her at table 48.  She'd been up for best supporting actress for Christ's sake.   Melody Persons was in the same category and she was at table 21.  


On the inside she was outraged, another insult to carry the evening.  Hell the nomination itself was a fucking insult, but she'd accepted it graciously.  Opportunities like this don't knock on her door anymore.  


On the outside she was cool as a cucumber.  Cold as ice.   She still had it - that spark - that moxie - that command of an audience.    She clung gently to Damien because she knew she needed him, but none of these other phonies could tell.  She was crystal.


She'd sat through the choruses of salads and sorbets, rich meats and extravagant desserts, but she only filled up on the wine.   Too much wine, she thought now.   They talked on and on about the exuberance of youth and the faces of the industry's future.   And then the bastards recognized her, waiting until the end of the final course, when she'd sloshed back a bottle and a half of wine on her own.   They praised her for her achievements, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.  They were mocking her - her fading looks, her failed marriages, her shortcomings in the industry she helped mold - recognition here is the kiss of death.


All eyes were upon her and she stood and waved slightly, head held high.   She was a pro after all and these condescending son's of bitches were not going to get the best of her.    They applauded until the last schmuck in the place was on his feet and she just bowed and cursed them all.


And that was all she could remember.   Except for now, coming-to with a mystery key and one hell of a headache.   And where was Damien?   She didn't pay him to leave her wasted in an elevator.   Lord only knows if the paparazzi managed to catch a few shots.   Her concept of time must have gotten off on another floor.  


She slipped off her shoes and got to her feet, catching a glance at her face in the art deco mirror.   She looked worn, whipped.   To the public, she still looked fabulous.  People magazine just wrote, "A radiant reminder that age doesn't have to mean flawed."   She looked at her face, makeup eschew and saw every single flaw, like the cracked glaze of a Ming Dynasty vase.   It was supposed to mean your priceless, but she just felt ruined.


The door opened to an empty landing and she glanced at the top of the door - level 5.  She pressed the button for level two and braced herself for the weightlessness of the decent.  


Ding.


Ding.


Ding.  The doors slid open and she stepped out into the abandoned hallway, following the pattern of the carpet over the elevator threshold.   Room 213 would be to the left.    She staggered down the hallway, looking at the doors and losing her balance.   She slammed into the wall, the sound ricocheting down the hallway.   She shushed the noise, like a mother scolding a child.    Balancing herself she walked on.


219
217
215


213.   She listened at the door and heard the whisper of silence.   Here goes nothing, she thought and slid the key cleanly in the lock, hearing the click of granted access.   She turned the knob and went into the darkness of the unknown.

I can hear the birds chirping

So today, I am feeling somewhat overcome by my father coming to live with us for good for the better part of the forseeable future and beyond. I am very happy about this. Really. But I am worried about how this will effect my creative flow, both in crafting and writing.

Since I received the news of his impending arrival, I haven't 'crafted' anything. That is (aside from some button orders), I have not used tool or material to make anything. I am feeling trapped by all the "stuff" that is involved in crafting, especially with my ADD way of dealing with creation. And while I have many many many crafty ideas in my head and my books, I have a compulsion to bag and box up everything and take it to the women's shelter or the Boys and Girls club. I won't do that - the pack-rat in me would never allow for that sort of 'freeing' behavior.

robayre, oopsieblanket, birdtr0uble

On the other hand, to say I have crafted nothing in the past couple of months would be selling myself short. I have not only put the finishing touches on my first novel, but I've made excellent headway into the second. I am so excited to see this story work itself out and I'm often surprised the see the roads the characters choose as the process moves forward. Sometimes I truly believe they have a mind of their own.

In addition to this, I am working on another novel that I may or may not seek to sell. In a market saturated with vampires, I'm pretty sure mine would just end up in a slush pile. But for me, the story is important and funny and not-at-all-what-you-would-expect. For that reason, I am considering using it as the meat of a series of OOAK (one-of-a-kind) books that are more art/craft than literature. But hey, what a win for a buyer because they'll get a hell of a story. But I have gotten WAY ahead of myself - first I must finish the story and have it proofed and edited and scrutinized by my band of merriment crushers -in my case, that includes both literary professors and fandom beta nazis.

mountainmamachic, brokesy, devilmademedoit

And back to where I began, I have been thinking about taking my writing outside the home when Dad arrives, expanding my horizons and creating actual working deadlines. Today, I wish I was under a tree, jotting timelines and important character daters in my artificial grass journal, while sitting on a blanket that will not get by bum wet in the grass. A nice sip of coffee on my SPF protected lips and I ponder where to take my protagonist and her lovely assistant. All while sporting this awesome laptop case and scaring away the sweet birds and squirrels, snuggled in a comfy recycled sweater.

What a great day!

Yeah for Queryfail Day!

shortsleevealliance, dvrdown, ainsmar, outiart, kateblack, linocutboy, bunkleberrystudios, sixhours, #queryfail

Today I woke up to a fabulous surprise. Today was #Queryfail Day on Twitter. Initiated by Colleen Lindsey, a literary agent who helms The Swivet, queryfail brought agents and editors togehter to share epic query failures they had received. For an aspiring writer actively trying to sell a novel, this was very helpful, but also immensely entertaining and horrifying. I learned that mentioning amputee sex and vomit are a definite no-no. I learned that stating that you are an Elf is grounds for rejection. I learned that describing yourself and not your book is probably not going to get your manuscript read (if you even bothered to write it yet.)

Obviously I would never do these things, but it is sad to know that people do. I spent the whole day envisioning some of the more intellectually challenged customers from my corporate retail job submitting these letters. And honestly, it made me feel much better about my own query. Mine is not perfect, but I have done hours of research and countless rewrites. It seems that the vast majority of aspiring writers throw some words on a page and call it good. They should have more respect for their time and writing.

Also, the number of queries in which people basically say, "This sucks, don't bother" was astonishing. Writing a book is HUGE. Why would you spend all the time writing and rewriting to throw your hands up before you even get started.

And then there are the ones who compare themselves to the Greats. My favorite had to be Lord of the Rings meets The Notebook. Oh and "My book is differentiated from Twilight because the vampires have wings, and are half-breed angels." Really? Don't these people realize that even JK Rowling was rejected almost 100 times before she landed an agent? I know writing a novel is like creating art. Hell, it is creating art. But ultimately, if you want to share your art with the public, it doesn't matter what you or your mom or your best friend's dog think about it. The public will make their own decisions and your AGENT is the first in a long line of people. If you cannot handle rejection from a professional, then you are way too tender for the mainstream public. Or worse yet, fandom.

Anyway, I am happy to report that I didn't see any references to my own query today, so I am pleased. And, aside from mentioning it is trilogy, I didn't have any major FAIL in my letter, so hopefully it will warrant some more pages. Cross your fingers for me, will ya.

Twit-wit

Hi, I'm MoXie and I'm a twitaholic.

In a matter of days I have become completely obsessed with Twitter. It all started with Stephen F*cking Fry being so damn cheeky and updating like ever five minutes. And it's not like my problem is greater than his, he's in Mexico or Panama or Chile or some shit. I mean I'm just in my lab at the computer. Sorry, I just got a little worked up.

My new tool, Tweetdeck offers a great world where I don't have to open the browser to access my feed. Its great. It dings and I rush to click the mouse like Pavlov's damn dog. But it's not like I'm not getting something out of it. I mean how was my life possibly complete before I walked with Alan Davies (omg, you should see the 'stach) through the preparation of a boxed falafel mix. Or sat and read as Neil Gaiman talked about the amazing new collaborative effort he can't talk about yet. Or understood the inner CRAZY that is Brent Spiner (seriously, he's nuts).

It's really not all bad. For example, I read a top notch interview with Henry Rollins today that made me really really wish I didn't hate Murfreesboro so much. And I saw a killer link for the most amazing musical video ever (you might have to wait until tomorrow to view the page.) Or the funniest dog vid ever. And I swear I only open the window to look at it when I think I might have heard when I hear the ding. No, I didn't just look at it, I swear.

I am sure that I will come to terms with this, the same way that I did with FB and LJ. And I have found a number of agents, publishers and editors who are just overflowing with publishing and writing advice. And I already have more random followers there than at my long standing web page and LJ.

Coffee Talk

I am in love with this cup cozy. 60Bugs over at etsy has a shop full of more cuteness.

As for getting a cup of joe, I seem to be SOL. Due to a failed hand off during the morning relay of routine, Mr. MoXie didn't have his wallet to stop at the store to buy more. So I have the delima of stopping the wonderful word flow I have been experiencing today and cruising up to the local grocer to procure some more, or sitting here and blogging about it. I think my blogging speaks for itself. And while I'm sipping the remaining dregs from the pot, I am thinking about the immortal words of a few fairy god parents I know:

Cosmo: This coffee is great!
[shouts]
Cosmo: Coffee! Coffee! Coffee! Where do they get this stuff?
Denzel Crocker: Columbia.
Wanda: Oh! We should go there!

Nothing but the Rain

geekboypress, uniquelydifferent, ursulaandolive, pippspurses

Adama: Morning, Starbuck, what do you hear?
Starbuck: Nothin' but the rain.
Adama: Grab your gun and bring the cat in.
Starbuck: Aye-aye, sir.

I admit it - I am completely obsessed with Battlestar Galactica. I took the express trip through all 71 episodes in just over a month. And yes, my mind has turned to jelly.

Obviously, I have things I love and hate about the show, but overall, I am in awe of its reality. Even based on a premise that is light years away from our own world, it manages to keep a hold of basic human nature and the characters carry uniquely human qualities, even the machines.

I have favorite characters - Kara *starbuck* (one tough bitch), Lee *apollo* (a visionary), Baltar (the man you love to hate and love), Adm. Adama (big poppa), and Prez. Roslin (commited to sparkle motion). I also have a few that I can't stand (you know who you are.)

In all, I love the fast "24" action meets StarTrek TNG. And even as this awesome series draws to its close, I feel satisfied that it is going out with a nuclear blast rather than a fizzled bottle rocket. Hopefully the success of such a great sci-fi thriller will inspire newer, better Sci-Fi experiences. (I won't hold my breath.)

And just because I might possibly be a Cylon doesn't mean I'm not working on new Swag for the shop!!