That is all.
THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE is one of my favorite childhood books. I love it so. I remember when I got the Chronicles of Narnia boxed set. I remember what the shelves of the book warehouse (back before those were common) looked like. It was with great excitement I started reading TLTW&TW to the little angel.
She was bored until Aslan made the scene. Of course, once Aslan shows up, everything gets good. Always.
Then we got to the scene with the Stone Table, and as I was reading, she looked up at me from where she'd been snuggled into the crook of my arm.
Her: "Are you CRYING?"
Me: "Yes. I love this part."
She gave me the long look that only a child on the edge of adolescence can muster: that mixture of shock, amusement and horror at what her previously esteemed parent is saying. Then she put her head back down and we kept going to the part where Lucy and Susan hear the table crack.
Me: (sniff)
Her: "Seriously?"
Me: "What? It's amazing. I love it. Aslan knew the deeper magic, and he came back."
Her: "ASLAN'S A ZOMBIE?"
Me: "Yes, you're right. He's a zombie, and I've failed at your literary education."
Her: "The ending is pretty good. I like this book."
Read my review and enter to win a copy of fellow InkSpell Publishing author Lisa Voisin's The Watcher, as well as an angel-wing necklace, on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!
Every year there is one day when I realize the mornings aren't quiet any more as my girl and I wait for the bus. This was that morning in 2013. The birds are back.
No matter how life is going, the day I realize the birds are back is a good day.
My sister says February is the worst month. I used to think it was October, when I was younger, because that meant winter was coming. Now I love October and hate February, too, even though it's the month of my birthday and Valentine's Day and expressions of love. It's that spring often feels so very far away in February, and we are all so sick of the cold and the short days and being stuck inside for long weekend days and weeknights. Yesterday morning as we waited for the bus huddled together under a blanket, my girl said, "When are we going to DO something again?" And so yesterday I took her and the neighbor girl to the library after school, just to be out, just to be gone.
I, too, am very tired of the inside of this house, even with the two new cats frolicking and fighting and at least keeping it real. I can't wait to eat dinner outside again.
But here we are, almost halfway through it. And the birds are back.
Today I posted on Deva's blog about life on the other side of an eating disorder.
It's beautiful here, but there's no place like home. Back tonight.
The little angel went back to school on January 3.
Beloved started his new job on January 7.
After three months of never being alone, I'm suddenly alone during the workday again.
Beloved said the other day how fast that three months went -- the longest he's ever been out of work since maybe his newspaper route. I said I thought it went fast because we were both so actively trying not to focus on it at all. If I'd focused on it, I would've had a full-scale nervous breakdown. But I didn't, and I didn't.
Isn't that amazing?
In the quiet, the anxiety pops into my head over the smallest things. This morning I took the little angel with me to take Kizzy to the vet for a limp he developed overnight. I got there before the vet opened and somehow between waiting our turn and the x-ray they took that cost $120, took two hours and turned up absolutely nothing, the anxiety expanded in my chest until suddenly I was pacing in the exam room and yelling at the little angel and so angry I could punch this vet who was wasting my valuable time and making my daughter late for school and me late for work when I could hear him helping other patients when all he had to do was look at the fucking X-ray already.
I heard my own voice after I told the little angel to LEAVE KIZZY ALONE HE IS NOT FEELING WELL as she tried to pick him up for the 83rd time in the eighty minutes we'd been trapped in that room and tried to focus my thoughts. I thought about what I sounded like to myself, even in my head. My whole inner monologue was totally I AM AN ASSHOLE.
I told my girl I was worried about Kizzy and worried about how much work I was missing and worried about how much this was all going to cost. I got myself under control enough that when the vet started saying things like growth plates not closed and maybe have to refer him for surgery before he said or it could be a soft tissue thing, I did not yell at him. I said I'd put Kizzy in a room where he couldn't jump or mess with Buttensworth for a few days and see if his limp got better. Then I drove my daughter to school and was nice to the secretary, who looked at me strangely when I told her we'd been at the vet.
Then I drove home and looked at the clock and started dragging things out of the playroom to make it safer for Kizzy and the pillow fell off the American Girl bed as I was carrying too much for one trip and I lost it. My reaction was completely out of line with what was happening -- my managers are angels, nobody was yelling at me, I could work late to make up for lost time, my daughter didn't miss library time like she was worried about, and it's most possible there is nothing wrong with my little black cat but a sprain or strain that some isolation would fix, no problem. It's not like he has late-stage diabetes and is going to need to be put down tomorrow like Petunia, or has acute kidney failure and can't pee anymore like Bella or has thyroid problems and chronic kidney failure like Sybil. The cat has a goopy eye and a limp, which should be a fucking walk in the park for us.
Despite of all these non-problems, I found myself there on the floor of the hall for a little while, having a good cry, letting some of the pressure that's built up while not thinking about what could happen for the last three months seep out through my ears.
When I got done, I noticed how quiet it was. And then I went downstairs and opened my laptop and went back to work.
What happens when you're not ready for the power you desire?Revisit the Greek myth of the sun god, Helios, and his son Phaeton -- only this time Helios is Helen, the fiery-haired chief executive of Aethon Power & Light in Chicago and Phaeton is Parker, her hot-headed son and only heir.
The Birthright of Parker Cleaves Playlist on Spotify
Songs with fire
1) Fire and Rain - James Taylor
2) Firework - Katy Perry
3) Set Fire to the Rain - Adele
4) Girl on Fire - Alicia Keys
5) We Didn't Start the Fire - Billy Joel
6) What's Up? - 4 Non Blondes
7) I'm on Fire - Bruce Springsteen
8) Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival
9) Light My Fire - The Doors
10) Burning Down the House - Talking Heads
11) Holding Out for a Hero - Bonnie Tyler
12) While My Guitar Gently Weeps - The Beatles
13) I Would Die 4 U - Prince
14) Waiting for a Girl Like You - Foreigner
15) Hearts on Fire - John Cafferty
16) Hook - Blues Traveler
17) I Was Here - Beyonce
18) Rosanna - Toto
19) I Wanna Be Sedated - Ramones
20) St. Elmo's Fire - John Parr
A short excerpt -- Remember: Helen is the matriarch, Parker her problem child. Meg = the observer and either victim or conquerer -- up to you.
Helen leans in, her necklaces clinking softly. I can smell her perfume wafting up from between the layers of silk around her shoulders. “I stopped by to see if you’re clear on your duties while I’m gone, dear.” She rests her hand on my desk, and it looks old, way older than her face, as though she’s aging from the ground up.
I swivel to see her adjusting her thick leather belt. It looks soft enough to fold in half length-wise. “Pretty sure—Parker is filling in for you, so I manage his calendar and affairs just like I do for you until you return, right?” Don’t leave. I don’t want you to leave me. Too.
“That’s right. It could be more challenging than you think.” Helen stands back, removing her hand from my inspection as if she can see what I am thinking. “He can be more challenging.”
“Oh?” I slide my feet back into the flats under my desk. “Parker?”
“I’m well aware of my son’s interest in you, Meg. I’ve told him again and again he needs to keep the office business, but he tends to lack boundaries.” She looks right at me, and I start to squirm. “I do worry you’ll buy into Parker’s image of himself. It’s happened with others before, but you’re made of different stuff, I think. Always remember there’s a difference between liking someone and liking the way they make you feel about yourself.”
THE OBVIOUS GAME (InkSpell Publishing, 2013)
THE OBVIOUS GAME is a 2016 Library Journal Self-e Selection! Ask for it at your local library.
“Everyone trusted me back then. Good old, dependable Diana. Which is why most people didn’t notice at first.”
"Your shirt is yellow."
"Your eyes are blue."
"You have to stop running away from your problems."
"You're too skinny."
Fifteen-year-old Diana Keller accidentally begins teaching The Obvious Game to new kid Jesse on his sixteenth birthday. As she buries her shock about her mother's fresh cancer diagnosis in cookbooks, peach schnapps and Buns of Steel workouts, Diana both seduces athlete Jesse and shoves him away under the guise of her carefully constructed sentences. As their relationship deepens, Diana avoids Jesse's past with her own secrets -- which she'll protect at any cost. Will Diana and Jesse's love survive his wrestling obsession and the Keller family's chaos, or will all their important details stay buried beneath a game?
Praise for The Obvious Game:
"Lovely, evocative, painful and joyful all in one ... much like high school." -- Jenny Lawson, author of LET'S PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED
“I couldn’t put down THE OBVIOUS GAME. Arens perfectly captures the hunger, pain and uncertainty of adolescence.” -- Ann Napolitano, author of A GOOD HARD LOOK and WITHIN ARM'S REACH
"THE OBVIOUS GAME is a fearless, honest, and intense look into the psychology of anorexia. The characters—especially Diana--are so natural and emotionally authentic that you’ll find yourself yelling at the page even as you’re compelled to turn it." -- Coert Voorhees, author of LUCKY FOOLS and THE BROTHERS TORRES
"Let’s be clear about one thing: there’s nothing obvious about THE OBVIOUS GAME. Arens has written a moving, sometimes heart-breaking story about one girl’s attempt to control the uncontrollable. You can’t help but relate to Diana and her struggles as you delve into this gem of a novel." -- Risa Green, author of THE SECRET SOCIETY OF THE PINK CRYSTAL BALL
"THE OBVIOUS GAME explores the chasms between conformity and independence, faith and fear, discoveries and secrets, first times and last chances, hunger and satisfaction. The tortured teenage experience is captured triumphantly within the pages of this unflinching, yet utterly relatable, novel. - Erica Rivera, author of INSATIABLE: A YOUNG MOTHER’S STRUGGLE WITH ANOREXIA
Book Information:
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Release Date: Feb 7th, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-9856562-7-0 (ebook), 978-0-9856562-8-7 (Paperback)
Paperback Price: $13.99
Kindle: $4.99
- THE OBVIOUS GAME on AMAZON
- THE OBVIOUS GAME on BARNES & NOBLE
- THE OBVIOUS GAME on INDIEBOUND
- LIBRARIANS! Contact me to order THE OBVIOUS GAME at the 40%-off author discount (ritajarens@gmail.com)
And here's a short excerpt!
Prologue
1987
When we were in seventh grade, Amanda and I snuck out of her house one foggy Saturday night to meet her boyfriend, Matt. We spent more time planning our escape than we did actually conducting it.
We’d made a list while pretending to do our homework:
Wrap flashlights with black electrical tape. (check)
Make fake bodies out of pillows to hide in our sleeping bags. (check)
Booby-trap her bedroom door with string across the threshold so we could see if her mom had tried to check on us. (check)
Assemble all-black outfits, complete with stocking caps, so we would blend in with the shadows as we walked. (check)
Arrange the rendezvous point ahead of time with Matt: the third-grade playground at the elementary school. (check)
It wasn’t until we’d successfully shimmied down the fence, jogged the four blocks up the street, and seen Matt sitting there alone on the seesaw that I realized I had nothing at all to do while they giggled and kissed. I’d been so caught up in the planning portion of our escape that I didn’t notice how pathetic my part in it seemed.
I twirled on the swings across the playground and out of view, once again pretending to be totally cool with it. The thing was, though, I wasn’t cool with it. I felt about as important as the guy who wrote the cooking instructions for Pop-Tarts.
We probably would’ve stayed there for hours if I hadn’t finally strode over to the jungle gym, coughing and kicking rocks as I went. Amanda poked her head out.
“What’s up, Diana?”
“Can we go soon? I forgot to bring a book.”
Her expectant smile turned sour. “Okay,” she finally said, disappearing in the darkness. “Just five more minutes.”
I wandered to the edge of the playground, thought about turning back on my own, letting her get caught out there by herself. But I wouldn’t. That’s what friends are for. She knew it. I knew it.
Everyone trusted me. Good old dependable Diana. Which was why most people didn’t notice at first that I was in trouble.
The Obvious Game Playlist
Chapter 1: Pride by White Lion (1987) – When the Children Cry
Chapter 2: Appetite for Destruction by Guns N’ Roses (1987) – Welcome to the Jungle
Chapter 3: Scarecrow by John Mellencamp (1985) – Small Town
Chapter 4: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (1986) – True Colors
Chapter 5: Can’t Hold Back by Eddie Money (1986) – Take Me Home Tonight
Chapter 6: Hysteria by Def Leppard (1987) – Hysteria
Chapter 7: Nothing’s Shocking by Jane’s Addiction (1988) – Jane Says
Chapter 8: Just Like the First Time by Freddie Jackson (1986) – Have You Ever Loved Somebody
Chapter 9: Use Your Illusion by Guns N’Roses (1991) – November Rain
Chapter 10: Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf (1977) – Bat Out of Hell
Chapter 11: Head Games by Foreigner (1979) – Dirty White Boy
Chapter 12: Faith by George Michael (1987) – Monkey
Chapter 13: Cuts Like a Knife by Bryan Adams (1983) – Straight From the Heart
Chapter 14: Double Vision by Foreigner (1978) – Hot Blooded
Chapter 15: Disintegration by The Cure (1989) – Fascination Street
Chapter 16: Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe (1990) – Poison
Chapter 17: Achtung Baby by U2 (1991) -- Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?
Chapter 18: Nevermind by Nirvana (1991) – Smells Like Teen Spirit
Chapter 19: Listen Without Prejudice by George Michael (1990) – Something to Save
Chapter 20: Out of Time by R.E.M. (1991) – Losing My Religion
Chapter 21: The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby (1986) – Mandolin Rain
Chapter 22: Infected by The The (1986) – Out of the Blue (Into the Fire)
Chapter 23: Strange Fire by Indigo Girls (1989) – Strange Fire
Chapter 24: Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos (1992) -- China
Eating Disorder Resources
- Academy for Eating Disorders -- http://www.aedweb.org
- AED Academy for Eating Disorders -- http://www.aedweb.org
- ANAD-National Association of Anorexia Nervosa & Associated Disorders --http://www.anad.org/ANAD
- The Body Positive --http://www.thebodypositive.org
- EDA Eating Disorders Anonymous -- http://www.eatingdisordersanonymous.org
- Eating Disorder Coalition for Research, Policy and Action --http://www.eatingdisorderscoalition.org
- Eating Disorder Foundation -- http://www.eatingdisorderfoundation.org
- Eating Disorder Hope -- http://www.eatingdisorderhope.com
- Eating Disorders Information Network -- http://www.edin-ga.org
- EDReferral-Eating Disorder Referral -- http://www.edreferral.com
- Familes Empowered & Supporting Treatment of Eating Disorders -- http://members.feast-ed.org/
- Helping Other People Eat -- http://www.hopetolive.com/
- Multi-Service Eating Disorders Association
- The Jennifer Mathiason Fund -- http://www.moonshadowsspirit.org/
- The Elisa Project -- http://www.edreferral.com
If you want to read more by me, well, you can.
Website/blog: http://www.surrenderdorothyblog.com or http://www.ritaarens.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ritaarens
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rita.arens
BlogHer: http://www.blogher.com/member/rita-arens
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=4048495&trk=tab_pro
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/ritajarens/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002KRLEHE
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1371209.Rita_Arens
I'm seeking beta readers for my next novel. Beta readers read a draft and give feedback re: pacing, characters, plot and overall flow. If you're interested in being a beta reader (I list in acknowledgments), please contact me at ritajarens@gmail.com.
As Newtown begins the horrible process of burying the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting, I feel the need for something beautiful.
Thanks, NobleRot, for sending this link to literally, something beautiful.
I can't take the getting dark at 4:30 thing any more. I already spend all day in my house, working from home, which never bothers me during the spring, summer and fall but makes me insane during the winter. I totally realize I have it better than most because I have large windows and natural light during my workday, and quite frankly I could go outside any time I want to, but, you know, working.
But when it gets dark five minutes after the little angel gets home from school? That totally and completely sucks, because the dark is so dark with its inky darkness that then I must shut the blinds because after two years of being on display for the entire neighborhood, we have blinds, and I don't like feeling like the world is watching me eat dinner. But then with the blinds shut, the house seems smaller, and yes, the walls maybe even are closing in on us. It doesn't take much to make me crazy between the months of November and March.
It might also be the new cats. They are awesome, but I think I'm still mourning Petunia, whose habits I understood. She would always come and sit on my lap in the evenings. She would come to bed with me and sit on my arm and purr me to sleep. Sir Buttonsworth is still affectionate, but after a week of being picked up constantly, he prefers his space. I hope in time he'll crawl onto my lap again, but for now he's avoiding the little angel's bed and anyone's lap, preferring to sit nearby on a blanket. Kizzy alternates between throwing his little body against any surface in the house and passing out snoring because he's still fighting an upper respiratory infection. No kitty comes to bed with me, and yes, I'm totally having a pity party about it, because WTF a little over a week ago I had Petunia and I didn't have to shut her in the bathroom to keep her off the table during meals.
But change is the only constant in life. I know this funk will pass, but lengthening days would help, and not having it get dark until at least six pm would help. Sometimes I think the only reason they put Christmas around the solstice is because without the little twinkling lights we would all freak the hell out the closer we got to the shortest day of the year. The way it is, we don't, because we know a few days after we get to stuff our faces with sugar plums and feed the world's economy by giving each other a bunch of stuff we don't need and probably don't even necessarily want.
Wah, blerragagaghhhhhhhhhh. Bring on the solstice.