Jenyfer Matthews
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Archive for January, 2008



Thursday, January 17th, 2008
Newsflash: Clowns are Scary

Apparently some researchers in England did a survey and discovered:

“We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable.”

The study, reported in the Nursing Standard magazine, found all the 250 patients aged between four and 16 they quizzed disliked the use of clowns, with even the older ones finding them scary.

They had to do a survey to discover this? I could have saved them a lot of time and money and told them that!

There’s a reason they use them in horror movies. Who does like clowns? Anyone?

Thursday, January 17th, 2008
Don’t put off til tomorrow…

what you can write today: you never know when a sick child and a husband playing hookie will cut into your writing time.

Oh well. There’s always next week.

I did get a few thousand words written in between distractions. Aurora is starting chat again. She’s just arrived in Cairo. My problem? Too many local details in my head that I want to use. This isn’t a travel guide so I have to pick and choose which will enhance the story in hand. I’m keep telling myself I can always edit later and to just get on with it but it’s easier said than done.

I’m going to take the weekend to mull it over.

In the meantime, my tulip bulbs are planted and in the back of the fridge. I didn’t think I’d have to explain that it wasn’t food – you’d think a bowl full of dirt would be a hint – but my daughter sampled one of the decorative rocks from the top anyway. Didn’t meet with her approval.

Wednesday, January 16th, 2008
That’s my girl!

I’m not sure what it is about mother-daughter relationships that can be so difficult at times. Maybe it’s all the hormones flying around. Maybe it’s understanding each other a little too well. Maybe it’s that my daughter is a nut.

First of all, she’s seven going on thirty. You know the kid at school who teaches all the other kids the rude gestures and words? The one that tells anyone who will listen all she knows about sex (which isn’t much) That’s my girl!

And believe it or not, she didn’t get it from me. Well, not all of it.

That stuff I can roll my eyes and live with. The thing about my daughter that drives me batty is her gender identity crisis. She does her level best to act and dress like a boy at all times.

Outside of school (god bless uniforms!) she lives in nylon soccer shorts or sweats and loose tshirts. She won’t wear anything that’s the least bit fitted, nothing with a v-neck, nothing with glitter or sparkles or anything in any shade of pink or purple. I can’t tell you how many perfectly good clothes I’ve ended up giving away because she flat out rejects them. I recently put a moratorium on anyone buying her new clothes because it’s a waste of time and money.

I can’t reason with her. I’ve tried pointing out that I’m not a girly-girly either. I prefer jeans to skirts and red to pink myself. And yet, no one has ever mistaken me for a boy. She’s even complimented me on my clothes from time to time but does she follow my lead? Nope.

She has lovely chestnut hair that she refuses to let me style. She barely tolerates my brushing it. I took her to the barber and cut it in a short boy style once, in a fit of frustration. I loved it because I could finally see her lovely cheeks and beautiful smile. But everyone thought she was a boy so now we’re growing it out again. The irony is that many boys we know are also growing their hair out so she blends right in.

You know, I could live with her dressing like a boy if that was the extent of it. The ironic thing is, whether she realizes it or not, she’s excruciatingly girly in other ways. She agonizes over what to wear days in advance of an event. She rejects everything in her closet and weeps because she has “nothing” to wear. She loves shopping for shoes.

Hmmm…maybe there is hope for her yet…

Monday, January 14th, 2008
How Cold is it in Cairo?

We’ve been having a fairly mild winter in Cairo but the last couple of days have been cold. And windy. How cold it is?

So cold that I’m wearing two sweaters, socks and slippers in the house and am still shivering.

So cold that I have three heaters running.

So cold that I can use my hands as a means of punishment – one threat of mommy sticking her icicle of an hand down their necks and my children instantly comply.

In reality, it’s hovering near 60F in the day, 40F at night. But that doesn’t factor in the wind chill. (Yes, I know I’m a wimp.)

The houses in Egypt are poorly sealed, have no central heating system of any kind, and have concrete walls. The wind blows in through the cracks and the walls hold it in. It is sometimes colder inside my house than outside. I run the heater on the room air conditioners we have, but it doesn’t heat the house for long.

Really, it’s like a meat locker in here sometimes.

And you don’t have to take my word for it. This summer, I bought a decorative Delft china bowl with five tulip bulbs inside as I was passing through Amsterdam. I stuck it on the desk in the corner of my bedroom, intending to assemble the kit and force the bulbs so they would bloom in spring. I remembered them yesterday and went to find them to get the process started. The instructions said to put them in a cold dark place until they start to sprout.

Three of the five bulbs have already started sprouting with no help from me.

That’s how cold my house is.

EDITED TO ADD: My Christmas poinsettia are still thriving as well. They too like cold, dark places…

Sunday, January 13th, 2008
Lost in Translation…or something

My husband bought me a book for Christmas. Based on the cover and the blurb, it *ought* to have been a good fit for me. I read it and hated it. I never connected with the main character at all – in fact I actively disliked her. And since my husband is tired of hearing me complain about the book (I’m sure that he’ll never pick one for me again!) I thought I’d put it before all of you.

The book is set in London. The main character is a 29-year-old career girl who married a “much older” guy (he’s all of 40) after a whirlwind romance the year before. When they married she agreed that they wouldn’t have children but lately she’s been having second thoughts. Instead of discussing this with her husband, she goes off the pill and gets pregnant on the sly, telling him later it was an accident.

So having achieved her goal, what does she do except go on living her life as before – smoking, drinking, skipping prenatal appointments, working too hard, and having an intense flirtation with one of her bosses. They never quite actually have sex but it’s a naked near miss, twice. In spite of the fact that she’s not caring for herself, she has a ten pound baby. Oh-kay….

After the baby arrives, she’s besotted with him and can do nothing else but breastfeed him. She can’t even gather herself together enough to get dressed most of the time (ok, that part isn’t so unrealistic) Now that the baby has arrived, she manages to give up smoking because she’s worried about her breastmilk but she still drinks, a lot – because that’s not a problem with breastmilk (???). Her husband finds out the pregnancy wasn’t an accident and is mad but gets over it pretty quickly. He travels a lot for his job and at one point she finds and email from an old flame of his that seems to imply that he’s having an affair. Does she ask him about it? No. She calls up her flirty boss and gets drunk and naked, once more stopping just short. Husband arrives home to find the remains of the dinner for two and seduction and leaves in a huff.

She finally manages to pull her act together and decides that she wants to get her husband back and comes up with a way to continue her high powered career from home. Husband explains there was nothing going on with his ex and decides to forgive her for her own transgressions. Says he can probably put up with some infidelity as long as it’s just sex and she doesn’t love them (huh??) As they are lying together on their bed while she breastfeeds their son, he gets turned on and she gets hot. They end up having make-up sex right there next to their sleeping baby. Which results in what? Another pregnancy of course.

Now, most of my problems with this book are probably just mine. I didn’t like her writing style or the story. And I just could not get my head around this character’s motivations. None of her actions made sense to me after she schemed to get pregnant. Now if it had all been an accident in the first place I might have understood the denial she seemed to be in, but having done it on purpose? Couldn’t get my head around it.

The sex-while-breastfeeding-thing I just found squicky. I breastfed both of my children and never found it an aphrodisiac.

And then I wondered – is this a cultural thing? Are things really *so* different in the UK? I’ve met many many British people in my travels and yes, most like to drink (so do I) but I’ve never met a British “mum” who acted like this.

What do you think? I’ve read many many books set in / written by Brits and never had this sort of reaction. I only finished the book to see what appalling thing she did next.

Tell me, is it just me?

On a side note, I just started my book club selection for this month – a Pulitzer Prize winner. I’ve only read a couple of chapters and am so far not enjoying it any better than the above. That’s me – picky, picky, picky…

Friday, January 11th, 2008
Friday Feature: Eilis Flynn

I have another amazing Cerridwen Press author with me this week, Eilis Flynn. Eilis Flynn is a longtime member of the Greater Seattle chapter of the Romance Writers of America, a veteran of the Wall Street wars, has been a professional journalist, a scholar, and even wrote comic books. She lives in a quiet neighborhood with her all-suffering husband and cranky cats.

Eilis is here to share her latest release, Introducing Sonika.

Blurb:

If you had the power to save the world, what would make you give it up?

Trained by her parents to use her unique abilities to fight crime, Sonya Penn gave it all up when her parents were killed by their archenemy, Gentleman Geoffrey. She turned away from what would have been her life, trying instead to be a “normal” person, unable to admit her powers to manipulate speed and sound preclude her from ever being normal.

Her “ordinary” life as a physical therapist comes to an abrupt end, however, when she finds herself falling in love with John Arlen, her newest client, but disturbed by his plans to avenge his father, who was murdered by the son of Gentleman Geoffrey. Drawn to his passion and determination, she agrees to help him in his quest. Sonya finds herself at the crossroads of her destiny: Will she don the uniform she was meant to? Complicating matters is a small thing – someone is trying to kill John. Is it Geoffrey’s son – or someone else?

by

Eilis Flynn

Excerpt:

“Wait,” he heard himself saying.

She stopped and turned. “What?”

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he did it anyway. He reached over and kissed her on the lips. “Good luck.”

She smiled, as sweet as the kiss itself. “Thanks.” She spun and started off across the rooftop, her footsteps noiseless. In the dusk, she looked like a panther stalking her prey as she disappeared into the darkness.

Right now, he wouldn’t want to cross her.

He made his way along to the corner of the rooftop and looked down at the ground, where a man was approaching the entrance. He was stopped by the goon at the door, where there appeared to be a conversation, and then he entered.

Arlen heard a scurry and saw Sonya shinny down the side of the building, hanging by her rope. He watched her pause at a window.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have made him nervous. What did put him on edge was the fact she was hanging upside down as she did it.

More practice, my ass, he mused again. He could barely walk and she didn’t find it unusual to be walking upside down the side of a building.

More and more men approached the entrance as he watched, and more and more were allowed in. Only twice were those who approached turned away. From the gestures he saw, he concluded they didn’t have the ID the goon at the gate was looking for–was it an invitation? But they went away without a word.

Thieves had better manners than football fans.

Something moved at the edge of his vision and he looked in that direction. Sonya had apparently gotten tired of hanging upside down. She was now walking on the side of the building, looking like a Native American traversing a path in the woods. Welcome to the Leatherstocking Tales, modern version.

The trickle of visitors to the warehouse eventually slowed as the hum of activity rose to a dull roar inside. He lost sight of his partner in trespass, first with the deepening darkness and then when she turned the corner. She still had the rope, though it was unfurling, little by little, as she went farther from the spot where it was anchored.

What lesson was that from her parents? Rule One Thousand Five Hundred Thirty-Four, How to Perform Reconnaissance? Had she ever learned whatever it was that little girls learned from their mothers–knitting or sewing or cooking or whatever? He couldn’t imagine it. That would have been too surreal. Superhero by night, happy homemaker by day.

The roar got louder. As he watched, the doors down below burst open and the attendees poured out, weapons drawn, shouting.

“Who was that?” he made out. “The guards up on the roof! Where are the guards up on the roof?”

John withdrew hastily, looking around. This was not good. “Sonya! Sonya?”

No answer. He heard the clang of the ladder, the shriek of rusted metal grinding against itself. That had to be the attendees, and it wasn’t that far up to the top. “Sone!” he finally called out. Where was she?

He heard “What the hell?” Then a shout. Then many shouts.

“We’re getting out of here!” rang out a familiar voice.

Her silhouette appeared at the top of the ladder. She was kicking down, one by one, whoever came up the ladder, almost daintily. But she couldn’t keep it up forever.

He looked around. The ladder was the only way down, except for the locked exit leading down to the warehouse itself. There wasn’t anything on the rooftop to jam the door closed–

Yes! It was a cylinder of what looked like tarpaper, probably left there by roofers to ready the surface for the coming winter, along with a pile of roofing equipment. He hurried over and tried to pull it. It didn’t budge. Finally, he began to push it toward the door, trying to block the entrance.

He heard the rattle of keys on the other side of the locked door. He had to hurry. He gritted his teeth as he pushed, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg and then the twinge when he stumbled. Finally, the cylinder of tarpaper rolled and hit just as the door was cracking open, and he guessed by the shouts their would-be pursuers were knocked off their feet.

That wouldn’t hold them for long. Sonya was going to tire. She wasn’t used to holding off scores of thugs, no matter how much she could do. Once he was satisfied the cylinder wasn’t going to move and the door was wedged closed, he ran to Sonya and looked down.

Even thugs knew when to go around. She was fending them off, but he guessed by the way they were running they had figured out another way.

He heard the clang of metal again, but this one was new. What was it? He limped to the blind side of the building, the side he had assumed was safe because it was smooth, without a ladder.

No, not safe. It was too close to the building next door, which had an emergency ladder. They were scrambling up that ladder, and would, sooner or later, try to jump across.

Some of them wouldn’t make it. But some of them would.

“Got any ideas?” he shouted to Sonya. They were surrounded and sooner or later they would have guests. He had his own rope and he had grappling hooks–they could be used as weapons if need be–but that was all, since Sonya had persuaded him not to carry his grandfather’s Enfield.

Five minutes, tops, that was about all they had. That was his estimate for himself but Sonya could beat them off longer, though she too would tire eventually.

But she didn’t seem concerned. She kicked off one last attacker and then turned to him. “Get ready to do what I tell you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m waiting for one of the idiots across the way to start shooting,” she answered calmly.

The banging had stopped on the exit door. He didn’t like that. “What are you talking about?”

“I just need–”

A shot rang out.

Buy this Book!

Thursday, January 10th, 2008
Birthday Surpise

What a lovely surprise to find in my inbox this morning:

ONE CRAZY SUMMER is a fun, exhilarating ride that guarantees you’ll be smiling in the end. Truly a tale of opposites attract, Ms. Matthews has created characters that are like night and day, yet you can’t help but cheer for them to be together. Ben’s life definitely needed a little shaking up and Summer is just the woman to do it.

Ms. Matthews has delivered a laugh out loud novel full of twists and turns and enough sexual heat to balance the tale perfectly. ONE CRAZY SUMMER is a sweet sexy read that will have you wanting to read it again and again.

Jenn L

Romance Junkies

Thursday, January 10th, 2008
Testing…one, two three…four, five, six…seven, eight, nine…ten, eleven!

Another year has gone by and another birthday rolls around. I can’t help but search for meaning in my life as I get older…. and where else would I look but Blogthings?

Your Birthdate: January 10

Independent and dominant, you tend to be the alpha dog in most situations.
You’re very confident, and hardly anything ever shakes you.
Mundane tasks tend to drain you – you prefer to be making great plans.
You are quite original. When people don’t “get” you, it bothers you a lot.Your strength: Your ability to gain respect

Your weakness: Caring too much what others think

Your power color: Orange-red

Your power symbol: Letter X

Your power month: October

Hmmm…does that mean my name should be “Jenyfer X. Matthews”?

You Act Like You Are 30 Years Old

You are a thirtysomething at heart. You’ve had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!
You’re responsible, wise, and have enough experience to understand a lot of the world.You’re at the point in your life where you understand yourself pretty well.
You are figuring out what you want… and how to get it!

This one isn’t too far off the mark…. and I really appreciate the next!!

You Probably Look Younger Than Your Age

You live a healthy lifestyle and know how to take care of yourself.
You’ll probably have a youthful glow for many years.
Chance You’ll Live to 100: 79%

100 is looking pretty likely for you right now. You’ve made your health a priority.
So kick back, keep doing what you’re doing, and enjoy the great life you’ve made for yourself.
And you might get to see what the world is like 70, 80, or even 90 years from now.
Looks like I’ll have lots more birthdays ahead of me as well….all the more cake to eat!
You Are an Ice Cream Cake

Surprising, unique, and high maintenance.
You’re one of a kind, and you don’t want anyone to forget it.
You’re fun in small doses, but it’s easy for people to overdose on you!
Good to know I passed the test since I am a Capricorn.
You are 80% Capricorn
You Should Be A Capricorn

What’s good about you: hard working and ambitious, you’re practically a guaranteed successWhat’s bad about you: you can be unforgiving toward people who fail you

In love: you’re very picky, but extremely devoted to the one you choose

In friendship, you’re: likely to be a good friend but expect a lot in return

Your ideal job: rock climber, sculptor, or practitioner of black magic

Your sense of fashion: preppy and put together

You like to pig out on: meat and potatoes

But on the other hand….
Your True Birth Month Is July

Tactful
Honest
Friendly
Secretive
Homebody
Sentimental
Hardworking
Approachable
Fun to be with
Has reputation
Not revengeful
Easily consoled
Very emotional
Wary and sharp
Waits for friends
Likes to be quiet
Witty and snarky
Caring and loving
Loves to be alone
Overly concerned
Loves to be loved
Treats others equally
Puts in effort in work
Takes pride in oneself
Moody and easily hurt
No difficulties in studying
Strong sense of sympathy
Forgiving but never forgets
Quiet unless excited or tensed
Not aggressive unless provoked
Concerned about people’s feelings
Temperamental and unpredictable
Judge people through observations
Easily hurt but takes long to recover
Guides others physically and mentally
Dislikes the nonsensical and unnecessary
Difficult to fathom and to be understood
Sensitive and forms impressions carefully
Always broods about the past and the old friends
Your True Sign Is Sagittarius

Funny
Confident
Easily Bored
Philosophical
World Traveler
Spontaneous and Wild
Carefree and Irresponsible
Blunt to the Point of Tactless

And just for fun!
You Are Fall!

Thoughtful
Expressive
Creative
Poetic
Smart
Your Gemstone is Orange Saphire

Courageous, optimistic, and successful.
Your confidence helps you handle the ups and downs of life

My gift to you on my birthday is hours of procrastination and giggles with Blogthings – have fun! Mr. Matthews and I are going out to eat with friends, sans children. Bliss…

Wednesday, January 9th, 2008
Overachiever Reader

I haven’t been writing much over the holidays but I’ve been thinking about writing, a lot. And not just my own.

I was recently invited to join a book group. I was reluctant to accept the invitation for a couple of reasons. As I’ve said before, I don’t have a lot of time for reading. I don’t usually read during the day because once I lose myself in a good book nothing else gets done. When I do allow myself to read I tend to read books which I expect will inspire my own writing – I highly doubted that the book group would be reading romance or women’s fiction. And – this might surprise you – I worried about whether I’d have anything worthwhile to contribute to the discussion.

In spite of my reservations, I accepted their invitation. I figured that meeting once a month was hardly the biggest time commitment. At the very least I’d read a book I might not otherwise have read and discuss it with new friends while drinking a nice glass of wine. Not really so scary a proposition.

I enjoyed the book we read and as I went along I made mental notes, kept track of themes and turned over the story lines in my mind so that I would have something to discuss at the appropriate time. And I think being a writer aided my reading of the story. I can’t *not* see the structure and themes of a story. If a story is well written, I assume that the author included certain ideas for a reason. If something is particularly well done or phrased I take mental notes. If a book isn’t well written, I edit it in my head as I go along.

I cringe every time I hear someone say that they don’t like to read books with “too much text” (in a book? really??) and that they skim through “too much description”. When I write, I pick every word and phrase carefully to convey the story in my mind. I don’t describe scenes or actions gratuitously to pad my word count – the words are meant to be read and remembered, not skimmed until the reader gets to the “good part”. I read the same way. I remember detail and if something is presented in a story and then not followed up, I notice.

As it turns out, I had more than enough to say and I picked up on some ideas and themes that the others had overlooked. I forget that not everyone reads like I do. Most non-writers are just reading for the pleasure of the story while I’m busy analyzing and dissecting. I could practically have written a term paper on the themes involved.

Hmmm… maybe I need to tone it down. I always have been a bit of an overachiever. Next time I’ll have more wine – I don’t want to make them sorry they asked me to join them!

Monday, January 7th, 2008
Guest Reviewer

The Dear Author blog runs a guest review every Monday, allowing readers to share their favorite books with other. Today a review I wrote of Nora Roberts Holding the Dream is up. Stop by and check it out.