Kindle Touch Giveaway...Tell Us Your Resolutions for 2012

Okay, so redirect to this post.

http://www.pensfatales.com/2012/01/kindle-touch-giveawaytell-us-your.html

And leave a comment for a chance to win. :) See details from last Friday.

Happy Friday the 13th.

Love,
The Pens

I Just Can't Help Myself

--Adrienne Miller

I know it's wrong. I know I'm not supposed to like it. Everyone tells me to stay away. But do I listen? Oh hells no. 

It's just too good. I'll take it just about anywhere. Even in places nature didn't intend for it to go. So hot. So sticky. Heaven help me, I even love it when the gooey stuff goes everywhere.

Yep, I love fried eggs. Lately, they're my main vice.

Yeah, I know they're kind of wimpy as vices go, but you have to cut me some slack. I don't really drink all that often. I haven't smoked in a long, long time. I don't like to gamble, and I've been with the same guy since I was twenty. I'm aware that maybe it puts me a little on the boring side, but I'm a pretty upright citizen.

Which doesn't leave me too many options on the vice front. So fried eggs it will have to be.

But why should I have to make excuses for something that tastes so good? Plop one of those bad boys on just about anything and it goes from ordinary to awesome. Hash browns. Grilled cheese. Fried chicken.

Regular burger becomes awesome burger. 

Oh yes, I made and ate that. Without shame, baby. Without shame.

Vintage Vice

--by Juliet

As an adolescent in suburban Cupertino California in the 1970s, I had to keep on my toes if I wanted any shot at finding vice of any kind. Oh sure, drugs could be had at the high school, but I never liked the folks who used – if I wanted to sit in a corner and babble, I could do it without external influences. The vice I was most interested in was SEX.

But smut was hard to find.

Keep in mind: back then “Adult Content” was available only through “Adult Stores”. And those kinds of places did not exist on Cupertino’s leafy streets.

But then one day I was snooping, and I came across my dad’s stash of Playboy magazines.

It was a revelation. I know, I know, objectification of woman, yada yada yada. I get that. As an adult I can see that the women featured in these magazines were made out to be acted upon, rather than as independent actors in their own sexuality. But at the time all I could think was: these women appeared to be having fun. They seemed to like sex. They were smiling, sunny and happy in their nakedness.

I spent many delectable hours poring over these publications. And I didn’t just check out the magazines for the pictures. Oh no, I was there for the articles. Okay, not all the articles…but some of them were highly informative. For someone with almost no sex education at school, and very little on the homefront --my dear mother tried, but women from her background simply did not talk about such things-- this was all incredible information, ripe to be shared with friends. I especially liked the jokes at the back. They carried with them a wealth of cultural as well as sexual information.

Soon I realized that every home I babysat in was a potential gold mine. I don’t mean to disillusion anyone about a) what a nosy kid I was and b) what babysitters in your house might be up to, but I looked around. Usually you didn't have to go any further than a bedside table. And it wasn't just Playboy or Penthouse. I found The Kama Sutra. The Joy of Sex. Our Bodies, Ourselves. Wow. My young mind was blown.

Granted, now that so much more is available on the internet, I'm sure much of the motivation for snooping has been leached from our young. And it's worthy of note that much of vintage Playboy's "art" would be too tame for the likes of many fashion and gossip magazines, today.

As far as introductions to smut go, this was much gentler than what the average adolescent finds today when she Googles "sex" or anything of the ilk. Some of that stuff shocks the hell out of me, so I can only imagine what an innocent young mind might make of it all.

And no, 1970s "men's magazines" were not the best introduction a young woman could have to the world of sex and sexuality. But as far as smut goes...it was exciting, fun, and so, so naughty.

Oooh, the wonderful vice of it all.

Vice is Fun

A vice is a habit or behavior considered immoral. And therefore, honey, they are FUN.
Running down the list of a few of my favorites:

1. Writing. I tell lies for a living. I make up truth, and then I make it up some more. When the lies are thick as tar, it's time to lay them on thicker, until the subject being written about is squirming and hopelessly stuck. And get this: the better the lie is, the harder it will be to tell that it's untrue.

2. Smoking. It's bad for you, and I don't do it. But the only reason I don't do it is because if I had even half a cigarette, I'd be back to a pack a day in a week. I've been an ex-smoker now for almost ten years, and I still love the smell of it. It's a sexy vice, too. Is there anything as seductive of that play of hands and mouth, the dance of smoke?

3. Sugar. Some people like crunchy snacks? Save 'em. I can leave a bag of potato chips on the counter for a month, but if you put ice cream in front of me and fail to remove your hand, I will bite it right off as I dive headfirst into the pint. I live, breathe, and run on sugar. Once, I cut it out of my life. For six months, I ate nothing sweeter than the occasional depressing drip of agave syrup on my oatmeal. I lost weight! I felt better than I ever had before! I was strong! Lean! Fast! Then I ate a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter minis, and I'm slower, heavier, and yes, happier.

4. Accordion. I don't think I need to say anything more than that.

(Oh. Maybe one more.)

5. Bluegrass. Don't tell me it's wrong because it feels so right.

And at its core, isn't that what vice is about? Be it Scotch or fast women (and with luck, both!), vice is bad. And that's why the thrill is particular, why the rush feels so good. Yes, we may regret it later, but let me play that accordion along with my Doc Watson album while drinking Laphroig and eating M&Ms, and I'm a happy-in-the-moment girl. I might regret the hangover tomorrow, but tonight, it's exactly what the doctor ordered.

Vice, Miami Style

by Sophie

VICE

I've been wallowing in research set in the late 70s, so when I received my blog topic reminder last week, I read the word "vice" and thought not of Talisker and Ghiradelli and midnight oil, not of dark alleys and men one knows better than to talk to and sins of omission and commission, but...

This.



Yes. Miami Vice, the show that ruled the air from '84 to '89, when I was a fresh-faced college student. in 1984, I had an internship in Chapel Hill, NC, at IBM. I roomed with another intern named Michelle, and the two of us never missed an episode of Miami Vice. We sat on our rental couch and ate popcorn and focused all our attention on Crockett and Tubbs.

Looking at stills from the show now, it's impossible not to see how closely they are wedded to what has come to represent 80's style, in particular the cheap, cheesey, showy, throwaway sensibility which seems almost innocent in its naivetee now. Remember - those of you who lived through it - that there was so much we couldn't have predicted: shifting politics, "green" culture, the recession, the new minimalism which may have been born of hardship but has evolved into an entire cultural wave engendering things like Simple magazine and downsizing and small-carbon-footprint smugness. (Amusing to imagine Crockett's response to, say, a pair of Keen sandals.)

In fact, the show is given credit for setting many of those devil-may-care trends, especially the fashions, now cringe-worthy, that represented the height of masculine style. From the wiki page - "They popularized, if not invented, the T-shirt under Armani jacket-style...Crockett's perpetually unshaven appearance sparked a minor fashion trend, ... In an average episode, Crockett and Tubbs wore five to eight outfits, appearing in shades of pink, blue, green, peach, fuchsia..."

It's easy for today's young people (those in this house, for instance) to find the show laughable and unrealistic. In particular, the treatment of the "vice" for which it's named - the police division focusing primarily on drugs - has very little in common with what we now understand of the challenges posed by contemporary drug culture and politics. I guess you could say that Miami Vice is to contemporary drug trafficking and containment what aerobics instructor Barbie is to Jillian Michaels - frosting and froth with none of the depth levied by real-life challenges and circumstances.

Still, Miami Vice was formative for me. Maybe it's just the glimmery glow of youth over which I'm rhapsodizing, but it may have been during that the kernel of a desire to tell crime stories emerged.

And admit it, ladies of a certain age...Crockett kind of got to you, didn't he? A little?

Kindle Touch Giveaway...Tell Us Your Resolutions for 2012

To usher in a fabulous new year, the Pens are going to do a fun giveaway. In the comments, tell us your New Year's Resolutions. Share one big one (or all your little ones, we don't care) for a chance to win a brand new Kindle Touch.

On Saturday, January 21st we'll use random.org to draw one lucky winner's name.

Rules:

1. Only one entry per person :)

To start y'all off, we're each (ahem, *some* of us sent in resolutions....) posting a resolution of our own.

Sophie: ???

Rachael: To do something frivolous and enjoyable every day.

Julie: gets a pass 'cause she's in the middle of a deadline

Adrienne: Be kinder to myself and others.

Nicole: To entertain more and wear heels :)

Lynn: ???

Lisa: Be less hermit-y and more social

Martha: Use sunscreen and floss!!

Gigi: Since 2011 wasn't an especially fun year for me, I resolve to have FUN in 2012! (I realized I wanted to ramble on about this, so I did so here today.)


So come and tell us what you resolve for this year and you'll be entered in the drawing!!

xo
Happy New Year from the Pens!!

Being at Peace with Uncertainty

by Gigi Pandian

I'm a planner. I haven't run out of milk or any other staple in over 10 years. I plan vacations years in advance and buy airline tickets months ahead of time. I don't start writing a mystery until I have a plot worked out.

But this past year, I had to let go of all that.

And you know what? It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

When I wasn't healthy enough to go to the supermarket myself, my family and friends brought over groceries and made home-cooked meals. Giving up the control of being the one in the household to go to the supermarket was an adjustment. But it was amazing to learn how many people wanted to help.

When I couldn't travel, I had to cancel three upcoming trips. At first I was really disappointed, but I knew I had no choice. Once I accepted that, I realized there was a lot that I could do at home. Thanks to technology, I could work from home. That gave me a bit of normalcy. But when I wasn't working, what would I do with myself? I couldn't make plans that involved going out, so I lacked structure. And I didn't know how well I'd be feeling each day, so I had to take things one day at a time. That was the biggest challenge—not knowing.

But that's exactly what let me brainstorm about the projects that led me to create Gargoyle Girl Productions. And when I didn't want to be productive, I still didn't want to be bored. I took photographs of things around the house with a funky new camera lens, and hung out with my bookshelves full of books I hadn't previously had time to read. I had never before embraced giving up on books I wasn't into, but now I'm all about finishing only good books. Life's too short to spend time reading books we don't enjoy—or doing anything else we don't enjoy, for that matter.

When November rolled around, it was time for NaNoWriMo. But wait! I wouldn't be able to do my usual routine of spending National Novel Writing Month meeting up with a good friend at a cafe multiple mornings per week. This year, I was on my own. But I think that's part of what enabled me to write something completely different than I was used to.

Now I'm well enough to be going into the office, buying my own groceries, and hanging out a cafes. But there's still a lot of uncertainty in my life. I've always been mellow, and I'm glad it turns out that after being shaken up I've again found that place of being at peace. I still wish I could plan a bit more.... But based on how well I got through the second half of 2011, I'd say I'm doing pretty well being at peace with uncertainty.

Martha's Moment of Peace

I have a pretty serious case of anxiety and therefore a pretty serious case of insomnia. Most mornings at three am, I find myself desperate to silence the chatter in my mind, desperate for a little peace.

I finally found it - on youtube.

Several years ago, I stumbled upon this video of a young man receiving a head massage in India.



The video is weirdly hypnotizing and relaxing especially given the video is loud and the massage itself even a bit...jarring. But I couldn't stop myself from watching it over and over again. Soon, I started clicking on other Indian head massage videos. After two or three videos, my eyes would droop and bam, I'd be asleep.

It got to the point where I'd sneak into bed with my tablet and tune into youtube to watch the video before falling asleep.

I started to feel like I had a dirty little secret.

Turns out - I'm not alone. This video, for one, has been watched nearly four million times as of today. There is a whole mini-cult of people who watch massage videos to calm down and are especially relaxed by videos of traditional Indian head massages.

Everyone's got something that soothes their soul.

Guess mine is just a little unorthodox.

Inner Peace

Inner Peace

by Lisa Hughey

About eight years ago I finally took my first yoga class, I loved it. Honestly I felt like I was born to do yoga.

(picture from http://thirtytherapy.wordpress.com/tag/yoga/)


I've always been flexible so all the stretching felt amazing. I have pretty good balance. The one thing I knew I needed to work on was my strength. But otherwise, everything felt great. Until the end of the class.

If you've ever taken yoga, you are probably nodding your head right now. (If you haven't, I'm about to enlighten you. :) )

Shavasana. The corpse pose.

The basic premise is that you lie on your mat, arms away from your body, legs slightly spread, eyes closed and just...be at peace.

(picture from yogarelaxationm.blogspot.com)

Sounds easy, right? Nope. I remember laying (lying, whatever) there, mind racing. I went through all the errands I needed to do, reminded myself about kids school stuff, calculated how much time I had to write now that I'd taken over an hour and a half off to try a yoga class, and generally let back in all the stress that I'd released over the class period. And thought yoga was great, except for that final pose. Yeah, right, just relax and let your mind and body float while you think about nothing.

I'm sure if my teacher was watching that I probably fidgeted most of that shavasana period. The teacher actually apologized because we'd gone a little bit long in the other poses and had to have a shortened eight minute shavasana instead of the regular ten to twelve minutes she usually allotted. All I could think was Thank God.

I went back for my second class and pretty much had the same experience. But over the next month, as I learned more about yoga and about the tenets of yoga practice, I began to experience the true beauty of shavasana. By freeing your mind and body of all the craziness of your everyday life, for a few precious minutes, you can actually achieve inner peace.

Of course, that peace won't necessarily last for long. But over time, you can train yourself to find it anytime and anywhere. There are so many things in our life that are out of our hands. We're just along for the ride. But in this one area, we have complete control.

And it feels amazing.

So in this new year, I'm wishing for you happiness, good health and a generous dose of inner peace.

Love, Lisa 


ps. If you are interested in reading more about inner peace, try this wonderful book by the Dalai Lama. How to Practice: The Way to a Meaningful Life 

Peace in the Kingdom

L.G.C. Smith

Idiosyncratic as it may be, I spend a lot of time imagining life in early seventh century Britain. The heroes who inspired my “Kings of the North” series lived and died then, as did the Anglo-Saxon saint from whose name comes the place name that is my family name.

I have ridiculous fantasies of getting another PhD, this one in early medieval British landscape history, just because I love pondering the little scraps of information left by material culture, works of poetry and history, place names, field systems, church records, parish boundaries, architecture, archeology and whatnot. Then I make up more stories based on what I learn instead of writing journal articles, so I really I don’t need another degree to do that. But I keep reading Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People. And a lot of other stuff besides.

My thoughts are much on King Edwin of Northumbria these days, as his book is up next. Bede has a great deal to say about Edwin because he was the first Northumbrian king to convert to Christianity. Edwin looms large by virtue of having established some measure of sovereignty over a good bit of what is today England (along with a fair portion of Scotland) and having led the charge for Christ in Northumbria.


It would be, I think, a mistake to view Edwin as any sort of modern-day evangelist. For one thing, Bede tells of him taking a very long time to decide to convert from whatever native pagan tradition he was raised in. In his darkest hour, when his greatest enemy (Æthelfrith, the hero of the first book in my series, Warlord) stood poised to annihilate him, Edwin received a mysterious visit from a stranger who exacted the promise that if there were someone who could save him from betrayal and death, Edwin would offer his allegiance to that lord. Of course this turned out to be The Lord, the Big Guy himself. And even though Edwin was saved, he didn’t immediately attribute that salvation to God. It took some time and another prophesied sign to get him on that path.

Even then, Edwin had to confer with his advisors. Bede would have it that Edwin’s chief priest decided there was no tangible benefit in the old religion. It wasn’t winning them any battles or loot. Therefore, practically speaking, it made sense to jump ship. Then Bede relates his famous ‘sparrow in the hall’ homily, likening the moment of a sparrow’s flight in one window and out another to a man’s awareness of his mortal life. It is but a flash of a much wider reality that is don’t necessarily perceived. Edwin listened to both the pragmatic and the metaphysical arguments.

The final argument, however, sounded all too much like certain hawkish fundies. In the old religion, priests were forbidden arms. So the high priest insisted on being the first to hie himself up on the king’s stallion, grab a sword, cut down the old idols and burn the temple. Bede seems to feel this was noble behavior. I notice that it wasn’t Edwin who did it. He didn’t stop it. But he didn’t do it himself.


Eventually Edwin committed to conversion, was baptized, founded churches and dedicated his daughter to the service of the Church, but my sense is that he did it for political reasons as much as anything personal. Bede’s most glowing praise of Edwin stands out through the many centuries since his life: It was related that there was so great a peace in Britain, wherever the dominion of King Edwin reached, that, as the proverb still runs, a woman with a newborn child could walk throughout the island from sea to sea and take no harm. (Bede, The Ecclesiastical History of the British People, Oxford World’s Classics, 1999, OUP, p. 100)

For all that he was a warrior who rode into battle at the head of his army, sword at the ready, Edwin appears to have cared for more than victory and conquest. A peaceable kingdom was no mean accomplishment if word of it survived a hundred years past Edwin’s reign and into Bede’s lifetime. In an age of warrior kings and saints, this detail offers a glimpse into what peace meant in the early seventh century.

It is entirely speculation, but I suspect that Edwin made his choice to convert to Christianity for reasons in which personal faith may have been only a small part. In light of the orderly peace Bede describes, Edwin likely saw Christianity as a means to bring together the disparate peoples of his time. The more numerous British were already Christian and had been from late Roman times. The less numerous Anglo-Saxons were not, aside from the odd king, but as they gained political power, their kings may have seen advantages to be had in adopting the religion of the majority of the population.


They did so in a fractious fashion pitting the authority of the Roman Church against that of the Celtic Church, but behind both iterations of the faith lay similar teachings about the relations between mankind and God. Those could be drawn upon to order the relationships between men and women in communities where the lines of power and authority were shifting. The Good News offered functional templates for everyday life wherein all lives mattered and were worth preserving. The choice of the sparrow in Edwin’s hall is no accident of rhetoric. It highlights the teaching of Matthew (10:29-31) that claims that God knows if a single sparrow falls to earth. If such small creatures have worth and value to God then so should people understand that the worth of a human life is great, as well. This lesson was vital to establishing peace in Edwin’s kingdom.

Life in early seventh century Britain was dicey. Peace was hard to come by. I think Edwin saw a better chance for it under Christianity. I also think history records that he was a charismatic leader, probably more beloved than he was feared. Yet Edwin’s peace did not last long. He ruled Northumbria for seventeen years, and his death ushered in another short period of chaos and conflict that showed how tenuous his peace truly was. But it lived large in the memory of his kingdom and remains a part of the dynamic history of the North.

My New Year begins with thinking about King Edwin and the peace he wrought. By year’s end, I hope to have cast him into war again, and learned what a peacemaking old warrior might do with modern conflicts.


PS: In other news, Staindrop has been renamed Master of My Surrender. Apparently men tend to hear 'Staindrop' and think “Monica Lewinsky” and “dress.” To those of you who went there, all I can say is that yes, I was aware of the connotation, but most women did not go there. They really didn’t. However, I can only take so much adolescent snickers, and in the world of ebooks, it’s an easy fix. To those of you who’ve bought it, thank you very much, and please beware this is the same book you already have.