No, it's not a gingerbread house

This is not a gingerbread house, although it sure looks like one on this magical night.

Once upon a time a man built an adobe house in the arid inland region of Southern California. He turned it into an inn for coach and rail travelers, for people coming from the East and Midwest seeking dry air and a venture in citrus farming.

The man's son, Frank Miller, turned the modest hotel into an architectural marvel of Spanish and Moorish influences that covers a city block. Visitors walk under arched arcades similar to the California Missions, but, the Mission Inn was never one of Father Serra's missions.

I've had the luck to spend time in the spooky, mysterious, off-limits catacombs under the hotel when I was a reporter covering the making of an independent film.

A few times I've been able to roam throughout the hotel and followed hidden circular staircases and discover other wonders. There are stunning domed towers, a fountain from Seville, flying buttresses, Tiffany art glass windows and a chapel with an 18th-century gilded altar. If you're ever in Riverside, take the docent-led tour and visit the museum operated by the non-profit Mission Inn Foundation.

So magnificent is this structure , it drew U.S. Presidents and other famous folk--William McKinley, John D. Rockefeller, Theodore Roosevelt, John Muir, William Howard Taft, Andrew Carnegie, Sarah Bernhardt, Henry Ford, Bette Davis, Cary Grant, Richard Nixon, John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan.

(photo: mostbeautifulhotels.com)

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But the hotel fell on hard times, turning into low-rent apartments and going into foreclosure. Redevelopment took over, and the inn became a National Historical Landmark in 1977. A two-year restoration by investors ended in another foreclosure, leaving the once-grand building empty, derelict, fenced off. Up for sale again in 1990, businessman Duane Roberts acquired it.

The hotel is a wonder to behold again, and since Mr. Roberts loves Christmas, he initiated a Festival of Lights that features millions of lights on the structure and draws tens of thousands of people for an after Thanksgiving fireworks show.

Even though I'm not much for crowds, I joined the throngs this year and was bedazzled. What a kickoff for the holiday season.

Because of gridlock, I could only photograph the show from one vantage point, so it's not a complete view of the hotel. Click this link to learn more about the history and architecture.

Hope you find a spark of wonder somewhere, too.

Addendum: Since Sarah brought up in the comment section that this sounds like a great site to set a novel, I'll mention that it's been done. The latest was Anne Rice's ANGEL TIME, released last year as part of her Songs of the Seraphim series. The novel features an assassin who stays at the inn. Fans of Rice's vampire books will recall her detailed settings rich in art. The Mission Inn is a perfect choice for her. The inn's owners put up a dedication on the suite she stayed in. This place has inspired many artists, as well. It is a stunner.

Finding gratitude

Things I'm grateful for. Past. Present. Forever.

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Number One: As always, this planet Earth, which shelters us in the vast, mysterious universe. This is where every other thing I'm grateful for lives.(Photo credit: NASA)

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Family holidays can bring out the best and worst in people. When I awakened at 2 a.m. and began to fret and mull, I stopped myself by pulling out a journal and writing down miscellaneous things that have brought me joy.

Here are some things I'm grateful for, including a holiday that suggests we consider our blessings. This isn't meant to be comprehensive or chronological. It just is.

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My father's weekend waffles, so golden and warm.

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Hawks adrift above me.

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The first time I looked into my daughter's eyes.

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Candlit dinners in my mother-in-law's house. I knew I'd found home.

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Snowy peaks floating in oceans of clouds.

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Visiting ladybugs.

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The boys who showed me how to catch tadpoles in murky ponds.

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The babysitting job that earned me cash for my first surfboard.

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My grandmother's love. No matter what.

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Maple syrup on fresh snow.

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Waves as translucent as emeralds.

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Reading Yeats by a peat fire in Sligo. Painting at a window looking at Ben Bulben.

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Whiskey and a pint on a blustery night in Dublin.

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Friends who hold drum circles to celebrate life.

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Critique buddies who laugh at my jokes and believe in my characters and still point out how I can make it better.

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My teenage discovery of Tolkien, Bradbury, Vonnegut, Hesse, Hardy.

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Coconut body butter.

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Standing in a room full of Van Gogh paintings in Paris. Surrounded by Botticelli and Da Vinci in Florence.

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The morning's first cup of coffee.

Blue moons and haiku

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evening settles in,

the lake holds still, barest of

ripples--antique glass



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I am in need of lightness and levity. A couple of things upset me this week, so I'm glad to have found some peace, film delight and a real laugh to share.



First, yay, Deathly Hallows. I'm not going to spoil it if you haven't seen it, but what did I love? Harry, Hermione, Ron and then the spot-on adult actors who play them in the Ministry of Magic, Bill Weasley, the animated Three Brothers tale, the Seven Harrys and, well, I could go on and on. I have to see it again!

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Okay, so this photo is very dark, taken on my walk home. But I love the spooky, mysterious atmosphere of the almost-full moon rising in a cloudy sky over this old house.



And that brings me to blue moons. According to Space.com, the full moon tonight is a rarity, because it will be one of four full moons this autumn. Or not. There's some controversy over this. Read more here.

But whatever you call it, there's a full moon and it's awesome.


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And for the promised laugh-until-you-cry, visit DamnYouAutoCorrect. These real screen shots of hilarious autocorrections on mobile devices left me cackling, but, um, these are NOT G-rated, if you get my drift. Tip: Keep reading through the pages. I swear there are you-didn't-say-that! gems on many of them.
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In case you're taking off this week for family gatherings, I wish you a safe trip and Happy Thanksgiving.

Getting right down to dialogue

This post is inspired by Susan Kaye Quinn's post highlighting an agent's first-page tips. The unnamed agent is a fan of dialogue as a way to show character and went so far as to say lack of dialogue on the first page might be a red flag. I'd never thought about the importance of first-page dialogue to show voice, but it feels like a no-brainer in retrospect.

I went searching through some good reads to see what I could find along those lines and was surprised that character-revealing first-page dialogue is hard to find. Really hard to find. There were mundane scraps of dialogue on Page 1 or more catchy stuff arrived a few pages later in an assortment of books I would rate four or five stars. In novels that are first person, the need seems lessened, because the story is told in internal voice anyway.

Still, I think this tip is worth pursuing. Here are some examples I did find of excellent books that have spiffy dialogue on the first page:

*PARANORMALCY by Kiersten White jumps right into its snappy attitude on Page 1.

"Wait--did you--You just yawned!" The vampire's arms, raised over his head in the classic Dracula pose, dropped to his sides. He pulled his exaggerated white fangs back behind his lips. "What, imminent death isn't exciting enough for you?"

"Oh, stop pouting. But, really, the widow's peak? The pale skin? The black cape? Where did you even get that thing, a costume store?"

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FEED by M.T. Anderson sets the tone right away of a dystopian world where the language is slightly changed but the teen attitude is for all time.

We went to the moon to have fun, but the moon turned out to completely suck.

We went on a Friday, because there was shit-all to do at home. It was the beginning of spring break. Everything at home was boring. Link Atwater was like, "I'm so null," and Marty was all, "I'm null, too, unit," but I mean we were all pretty null, because for the last like hour we'd been playing with three uninsulated wires that were coming out of the wall. We were trying to ride shocks off them.

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REVOLUTION by Jennifer Donnelly delves into the emotional darkness of a girl who comes from a privileged life but suffers an inconsolable loss. The opening sets the tone and her sharp world view.

Those who can, do.

Those who can't, deejay.

Like Cooper van Epp. Standing in his room--the entire fifth floor of a Hicks Street brownstone--trying to beat-match John Lee Hooker with some piece of trip-hop horror. On twenty thousand dollars' worth of equipment he doesn't know how to use.

"This is the blues, man!" he crows. "It's Memphis mod." He pauses to pour himself his second scotch of the morning. "It's like then and now. Brooklyn and Beale Street all at once. It's like hanging at a house party with John Lee. Smoking Kents and drinking bourbon for breakfast. All that's missing, all we need--"

"--are hunger, disease and a total lack of economic opportunity," I say.

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I'd love to hear from any of you, if you know of other examples where first-page dialogue really sets voice. I was surprised how hard it was to find examples.

What the tide revealed

Tides come. Tides go. In and out. Ebb and flow. On some beaches, low tide means easier walking on flat sand. On others, rocky pools are revealed. And there is the wonder.

I found these starfish--three different colors together--on the far-end of a jetty I've never seen out of water.

I didn't even care that a little girl, as excited as I was, splashed me thoroughly as she raced by. All I cared about was the revelation at my feet and that the camera phone was dry and working.

I've been taking walks along Venice Beach for decades and never seen the tide pull back like it did this last weekend. A huge swath of the pier was out of water, the damp sand displaying patterns while sanderlings scurried back-and-forth, searching for food revealed by the receding water.

I felt like I was peeking behind the Wizard's curtain, glimpsing the secrets of the intertidal zone, spying on its shy inhabitants.

All these years of digging my toes in wet sand, swimming in surf and climbing out on the jetty rocks, and I'd never seen these creatures here although this is where they've always lived.

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Fat starfish cling to barnacle-covered jetty rocks.
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Another gets a ghostly dusting when a rough wave stirred up the sandy bottom.

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Carpets of anemones wave their tiny arms just below the shallow water. Those uncovered by the tide, close up like tight fists and wait for water to return.

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Goose barnacles--don't they deserve that name?

The pier pilings were encrusted with shelled creatures and starfish.

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I found a world of wonder in a place I thought I knew.

Perhaps that would be a good writing or photography exercise--to roam a place we consider mundane because we've seen it so much and look closely for what we may be missing. Turn over a few rocks and see what's there.

I've thought about this when traveling to other countries. What is ordinary to the inhabitants, whether it's their architecture, landscape or animals, is exotic to me and, thus more vibrant, more exciting.

But, really, it is every inch of our planet that holds wonder.

Tangled up

I'm all tangled up. I confess to some serious doubt going on. I've been trying to take those steps forward on my novel that I tell others to take, but my knees got kicked out from under me again.

Hence this tree of scary limbs. Does it not look like it will swirl the unwary up and away?

As some of you know, I was dealt a set-back when another book was released this fall that had some similar story elements to the novel I've been working on all year. So I set to work changing my book to eliminate the common traits and focus on the those that were different. Because there are major differences. But then I read that the other author is working on a sequel and I thought, 'What if that one ventures into territory I'm in now?'

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Maybe it's time to crawl in a hole and hibernate. This tree looks like a place to hide and pout.

You see where I'm going with this? Woe is me. Waaaaaa!

I don't like that. I will try to take my own advice and keep working on my rewrite.

Or perhaps, I need to take the Storyqueen's advice, as well. She advocates spending time with another manuscript, which I've neglected. It's a fun one and would give me giggles and joy if I let it.

One of my crit partners sent me a note from yet a different character I'd stuck on a shelf. "Time to dust me off. I'm ready!' it said.

Hello? Are you still speaking to me, my darlings, my dears, my other loves?

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Then again, I could always try a steampunk for new horizons. Is not this tree wearing steampunky goggles?

Hope you're all less tangled up. Send me a message in a bottle. You can parachute if from an Aerocycle. I'm just sitting here seeing faces in trees.

P.S. Don't call the paramedics. It's not that bad.

P.S.S. I stepped out on my balcony to find a dawn sky of robin's egg blue with golden jet streams and wispy clouds of pink and pure white. Geese winged silently above. And I thought, thank you for the reminder that birds can fly high and clouds can be golden.

Contest winner, ropes for NaNoers and haiku, oh yeah

See the guy who fought his way up that pile of boulders to the top of the mountain? That's for you courageous writers tackling NaNoWriMo this month. I know you've got your gear in shape, all you've got to do is press on each day, scrambling upwards bit by bit.

I'll be cheering you on, even though I'm sitting this one out in order to rewrite.

My best advice is take it a step at a time. When it seems you can't go on, when you're exhausted or stumped, go on anyway. If you've got 800 words and don't see how you'll double it before bedtime, keep going. I was shocked to find energy if I didn't let myself give up. It's possible to make your goal, but, if life gets in your way and you can't, then look at it as a chance taken, a grand adventure into possibilities. It was never about winning or losing. It's about the challenge and opportunity. Best wishes to you all.

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Now for the winner of my book giveaway for All Hallow's Read, which I sorted from my witch's hat, of course. A hardback of Carrie Ryan's THE FOREST OF HANDS AND TEETH goes to:

Kathryn Jankowski

Please send your mailing address via email to me.

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And when I came upon this mysterious hunk of granite, which speaks to me of ancient ceremonies or cosmic magic, I had to write a haiku.

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the ancient boulder

wears its sun face forever

written in stone

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Whatever you're doing this November, may you stumble on wonder and reach the top of a mountain.

Pumpkin face

This year's pumpkin is full of glee of the scary sort.

Of course, I did reveal its face by stabbing and hacking and peeling. Who knows what lies within until we set it free?

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You still have until midnight to enter my mini-contest for All Hallow's here.

Happy Halloween.

Stay safe and gleeful.

P.S. I plan to hand out goodies to cute goblins and watch old episodes of Supernatural. How about you?

Of spooks and contests, hee-hee

I love fall and Halloween. There's excitement in the air and it's not just sugar-induced. The air's crisp and clean. People dress up silly and tell spooky tales. What's not to like?

I saw this ghost pinned to a massive redwood trunk while I was walking back from the lake, and I had to steal his image. Now, he's forever caught in digital limbo.

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bwa-ha-ha-ha

Last year's pumpkin. I haven't carved this one yet. I love me some scary squash.

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And I found a witch's broom!

Really, I think she got zapped by another witch and fell to earth.

Or maybe she upgraded to a Firebolt and tossed this one aside. Did she take the magic off it first?

Now I wish I'd brought it home.

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Neil Gaiman has come up with a brilliant idea for all us bookloving, writing fanatics. All Hallows Read gleefully suggests that we give gifts of scary books as a new Halloween tradition.

So I'm going to give away the very scary THE FOREST OF HANDS AND TEETH by Carrie Ryan to one lucky person who leaves me a comment. All I ask is that the comment tell me one of your favorite scary reads and that you follow my blog. Contest closes midnight Oct. 31.

*This is not my contest for reaching 300-plus wonderful followers. That will come soon. I'm having fun looking up the number three and dilly-dallying.

Power of Three

Gasp. It has not escaped my notice that today the friendly follower's widget says 303. What a magical number, and besides that, Woo-hoo, Wow, Yay and OMG! I have trouble believing that so many people clicked on that little button and followed my blog.

Thank you old and new followers for finding something interesting here. I appreciate it, like, by the power of three. Triple imagery is found throughout the world and its history, so I'm going to brew up a post on that, along with a contest.

I'd do it right now in my excitement, but tonight is crit group (actually, so was yesterday) and I've got some serious writing to do on my novel that's been undergoing reconstruction. So today is hard-hat day. See you soon to frolic and work some magic. (I hope). Thank you again!

That path we're on

I can't decide if I feel like this skateboarder, rolling down a mountain trail, flying on land and not caring what rules he breaks as long as he's finding a new hill to conquer.

Or if I'm the old man who had to stop to catch his breath part-way uphill, willing himself to do this thing even if his body threatens mutiny.

I feel as though I swing between exhilaration and exhaustion on this journey to publishing a novel. (Well, if I get past the writing and revising to the publishing part.)

And, yet...even when I question, even when I'm tired or down, I go on. The mountain is there, and I'm lured to find its summit. I don't know if that's insanity, destiny or true grit, but I gotta do it. Sometimes, it's a helluva fun ride.

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But sometimes, too, I just feel driven, and that's not healthy. I'm searching for balance.

I think I need more of this--gazing up at the sky, spotting the sliver of moon, watching clouds drift.

Like when I was a kid and I seemed to have all the time in the world to soak up the wonder and enchantment and possibility. It reminds me of the words I posted last from Susan Straight: Just be in it.

What about you?

Finding your place

Susan Straight found her place as a writer in the town where she was born. She loves the land and people of inland Southern California. As a high school student, she melded into the extended African American family of her boyfriend (now her ex-husband and father of her three daughters). She absorbed their history and culture, the cadence of their voices, and it spills onto the pages of many of her books as it does her life.

The other night I attended a reading and signing at the Culver Center of the Arts in Riverside, Calif. This is the town Susan fictionalizes as Rio Seco in her novels. She was introduced by Marion Mitchell-Wilson, executive director of the Inlandia Institute, which named Susan as its first Literary Laureate. "Susan embodies our entire mission--to celebrate the people who live, work and write about this place."

Susan, who has written six novels, was a 2001 finalist for the National Book Award and her short stories won the O. Henry Prize and an Edgar Award. But she's so down-to-earth, she baked cupcakes and her mother baked brownies for the booksigning.

She told the audience that she carries small notebooks with her most of the time but writes on anything that's handy, like the subscription cards inside magazines she finds at the gym. "I wrote a big scene on a Disneyland Day Pass."

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Her latest book grew out of two events that happened years ago and waited to find their place in a story. One was a beautiful but grief-stricken woman Susan saw every time she rode a bus as a student at USC, and the other was a murdered girl whose mother said no one would care that someone killed her daughter because she was black.

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In TAKE ONE CANDLE LIGHT A ROOM, Glorette, a woman who turned every man's head loses herself to crack when her heart is broken. She's found dead, but no cops are called. Susan's haunting prose: Her small body folded in on itself by someone who'd left her in a shopping cart in an alley behind a taqueria, her long black hair, tangled around her beautiful face and falling through the metal mesh that left marks on her cheek.

Fantine, the story's narrator who left Rio Seco, gets a call from her sister-in-law on the anniversary of Glorette's death.

"So you might drop by, huh? If you ain't too busy." Cerise sounded pissed, like she did every single time we talked. She was mad at me for being in L.A., mad at my brother Lafayette for leaving her and their kids, and mad at Glorette for being dead.

"Fantine!" she whispered harshly. "You didn't never see her anymore! But I saw her all the time." Cerise was crying now. "If I went to get my nails done. Or at Rite Aid. She went in there for a break."

I didn't know what to say. I tried to imagine what Glorette had looked like by then.

"She would just smile and say, 'Hey, girl,' like it wasn't no big thang she had a bruise on her neck."

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I plan to write more about the book in a future post, but I wanted to put this up to let people know Susan's on tour. If you're in New Orleans, she'll be at the Garden District Bookstore on Oct. 19. Then on the 20th, she'll be at Left Bank Books in St. Louis. In November, she'll be in Washington and California. For a complete itinerary, check Random House.

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I'll leave you with some advice to writers from Susan "to stop and look at the world, not judge it. Just be in it."

It's not nice to trash your Mother

Today is Blog Action Day and the topic is water. Did you know water covers 71 percent of the earth's surface? We haven't done a very good job of keeping those waters clean on our rare, habitable planet. But it's not a lost cause. There's still time to make it up to Mom.



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Patricia McKillip is a lyrical writer of wondrous stories. In looking for water quotes, I found these lines from THE CHANGELING SEA.






The tide was low that afternoon as Peri walked home, so low that even the great jagged spires stood naked in the glistening sand, and all the starfish and anemones and urchins that clung to their battered flanks were exposed. It was a rare tide. Beyond the spires, the sea dreamed gently, a pale milky blue shot with sudden fires from the setting sun.





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And here's another beautiful excerpt from Meredith Ann Pierce's short story collection, WATERS, Luminous & Deep.



One evening, Connor and Elspeth went down to the shore. Moonlight was combing the long, green sea with ravels of silver and winkings of fire.

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While we love the reflected fires of moon and sun, we can not accept the man-made fires of oil drilling explosions. It's time to be aware, to speak up, to protect the waters that sustain life on this planet.

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Here are some trashy facts and do-it-yourself remedies.



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The Ocean Conservancy reports 17,000 pieces of plastic counted during four days at sea about 550 miles off the California coast. Among items adrift in the open ocean were shampoo bottles, laundry baskets and hard hats. Not only is this trashing Mother Earth, it chokes, poisons or otherwise injures and kills fish, birds and mammals.

Remedy? Use less plastic and recycle. Organize neighborhood cleanups to stop trash from washing into gutters. Urge manufacturers to make packaging biodegradable.

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A single quart of motor oil can contaminate up to 250,000 gallons of drinking water, according to the Natural Resources Defense Council.

Remedy? Repair motor leaks and never dispose of used oil in gutters or drains. Take any hazardous materials (antifreeze, batteries, bleach, tile cleaner, insecticides, herbicides, resins, paint) to a hazardous waste site. Hey, if you don't want to drink it out of the bottle, don't pour it into the drain where it makes its way to the groundwater or sea.
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Burning fossil fuels not only puts carbon dioxide in the air but also in the water. For 20 million years, the pH of the oceans was stable, but in 250 years since we started heavily using fossil fuels, there has been a 30 percent increase in acidity. Just as osteoporosis weakens human bones, the acidified oceans make boney structures and shells weak. More than 60 percent of the world's coral reefs are sick or dying due to pollution, sedimentation and bleaching caused by rising water temperatures.

Remedy? Try to buy the most fuel-efficient car you can, and look into alternative fuel sources, such as solar power for homes. Walk and ride bicycles more often. Turn off non-essential electricity. Talk to town councils about what your community can do.

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Chlorine used by paper mills to make your toilet paper white can cause dioxin to be discharged into waterways where it's toxic to fish, wildlife and humans.

Remedy? Use recycled paper goods made without chlorine. A few years ago, I saw a documentary about a river polluted by a mill, resulting in fish downstream with tumorous growths. I switched to non-chlorinated household paper and have never regretted the extra cost to me, knowing I'm not adding to the poisoning of our waters.

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My remedies aren't revolutionary. Check out other blogs taking part in the event or any of many conservation organizations, which offer tips on keeping our planet clean. I hope this doesn't come across as preachy, but being silent won't serve us.

I've been searching

Been reflecting a lot lately, and these three photos kind of illustrate what's going on in an abstract way. Each was taken at the south end of a lake I frequent, but they have differing imagery.



I'm searching for something like that in writing but also in an abstract way. Some of you may know that I was shaken up to discover that another book is out with some similarities to the novel I've been writing all year. I don't want to toss my story, because its core is much different than this other book, but I need to change some things, I need to see beyond the literal to the abstract.



In my last post, I mentioned putting our characters up a tree, making them deal with the unfamiliar, the unexpected. Now, I spend time looking for ways to keep my story from the predictable, the already been there.

I hope I find it.

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By the way, I just finished two must-read books that are completely different one from the other. The uni smiled upon me when I won an ARC of Beth Revis' ACROSS THE UNIVERSE. For those of you who've read the first chapter online, all I can say is the rest of the story is just as riveting, just as breathtaking. Anyone who loves sci-fi, dystopian and mystery should pre-order it now. In fact, everyone should. The other book was E. Lockhart's THE DISREPUTABLE HISTORY OF FRANKIE LANDAU-BANKS. What a fun, smart book. Check it out.

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And if I haven't visited your blog lately, please forgive me. I've been gone on family stuff and fulfilling some obligations. I hope to make the rounds soon. Happy October! I love this month.

Up a tree with me (and a contest!)

What gets our attention? Often, it's the thing out of place, the unexpected. Like this duck up a tree. I see ducks paddling along, leaving rippling wakes. Sometimes, they're tail up, looking underwater for some delectable or they're waddling along the shoreline. Although I've seen video of odd ducks who nest in trees and make their ducklings leap out, free-falling to the ground (well-padded), I've never seen a duck in a tree. Hence the photo.

This got me to thinking how the best stories surprise us, make us do a double-take or sit back and ponder. A good writing experiment would be to comb through our stories looking for places we could put our characters up a tree--metaphorically, of course.

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HUGE CONTEST ALERT

Okay, so I really want to whisper instead of shout this, because everyone with a picture book manuscript is going to jump at this chance, and I so want to win!

Dear Editor (Deborah Halverson) is celebrating her six-month online anniversary with a free picture book edit. This is truly amazing for the winner. Deborah was an editor with Harcourt Children's Books for a decade.

If you aren't reading her regularly, you're missing out on lots of advice about writing and the industry.

The rules for this contest are a picture book for ages three to eight, text only and no longer than 2K. Deadline is midnight PST Oct. 10. Specifics on how to enter are on her site.

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Right now I'm feeling laptop love. I've been away from home--unexpectedly up a tree--for days due to a family situation. It's raining and I'm listening to the soft patter and putting up this post. The view from the tree limb is pretty good, actually.

Sometimes We Soar

I can now say this for a fact: watching Olympic skaters from front row seats is freaking amazing! My daughter and I were blown away by All That Skate in L.A. this weekend. The show was aired on Korean television, which is the origin of these videos. It will be broadcast in the U.S. Oct. 10 on NBC, as well.

My breath was taken away by the lyric beauty and astounding jumps of Gold Medalist Yuna Kim and by the lifts and throws in the performances by Pair champions Shen Xue and Zhao Hongbo.

Here's the thing about champion ice skaters. They take risks, big ones. But they've work long years, perfecting the basics, getting physically strong and mentally prepared for pushing themselves to these extremes of performance. And if they fall, they get right back up and keep going. They make pretty good role models for anyone, really.

Kim organized the show and invited her impressive friends: Michelle Kwan, Johnny Weir, Stephane Lambiel, Patrick Chan, Ashley Wagner, Tanith Belbin and Ben Agosto, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy.

Hope you enjoy the videos or catch the televised show. Better yet, someday go see them live.

Not just any day

Sunrise.

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Sunset.

The passing storm

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Sometimes Southern California gets dramatic, and my favorite times of day are those moments when the sun is rising or setting. There wasn't a lot of rain with this system but there sure was a show.

Tomorrow, my daughter and I are going to see a different spectacular show--All That Skate with Olympic ice skaters including Yuna Kim, Michelle Kwan, Stephane Lambiel, Johnny Weir and Shen Xue and Zhao Hongbo. Excited much? Oh, yeah.

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And, oh my, I notice that almost 300 people pressed the little follow button on this blog. I never dreamed so many wonderful people would drop by. I'm going to have to throw a party. With prizes, of course, when I get there. Thank you all!

Book 'em

Last time I checked we stopped burning (or drowning or crucifying) witches hundreds of years ago. And yet some people would like to ban (even burn as some churches have done) books that feature witches or magic of any kind. They fear the words will corrupt children, make them want to cavort in Satan's playground.

STREGA NONA? Really? I'm stunned that someone challenged the right of Tomie dePaola's Caldecott Award winner to be in a library. But they did.

This delightfully-illustrated book tells of a boy who disobeys his employer, an old lady with a magic cooking pot. He tries her spell when she isn't home and covers the town in pasta. It's funny. It teaches a lesson about showing off, disregarding warnings and not being respectful. I seriously doubt it would lure any kid into the dark side, for heaven's sake.

This is Banned Book Week, the annual event hosted by the American Library Association to highlight books that have been attacked, that someone has tried to remove from a school or public library because the books don't fit their world view.

Like STREGA NONA, J.K. Rowling's HARRY POTTER series, Katherine Paterson's BRIDGE TO TERABITHIA and Roald Dahl's THE WITCHES have been challenged for occult themes. The Potter books were burned by churches in New Mexico and Michigan, with congregations in Iowa and Maine only stopped by fire departments.

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Among authors who speak out against book bans are the venerable Ray Bradbury, whose anti-censorship novel FAHRENHEIT 451 is frequently challenged; Judy Blume, whose ground-breaking children's books are targeted because they address such real life issues as racism, bullying and sex; and Laurie Halse Anderson, who recently sounded the alarm against a professor in Missouri who tried to get SPEAK taken out of schools. It's what Wesley Scroggins said about that book that made me sick to my stomach for a week.

He called the novel about date rape "soft porn" in a newspaper op-ed piece. I've read that book. There's nothing remotely pornographic about the tastefully-written, painful account of what happens to a rape victim and her slow road back to emotional recovery. Anderson has received thousands of thank-you notes from kids who found help dealing with their own trauma. While Anderson gave rape victims hope, Mr. Scroggins victimized them again with his words. I feel I have the right to say that since I am one of those victims.

The reasons given for challenging books can be anything from religion and politics to language and sexual content. The question is do you want somebody else deciding for you what's acceptable to read? If you have never checked out ALA's list of frequently challenged books by decades, please click the link above. I think you will be astounded at how many extraordinary, important, thought-provoking books are on the lists. Read them. Talk about them. Don't let someone's narrow world-view put blinders on you.

You can also check out my previous posts about other banned books: THIRTEEN REASONS WHY, TWISTED, LOOKING FOR ALASKA, FEED, JULIE OF THE WOLVES, THE HANDMAID'S TALE.