angry beast: the city in pictures

A group of us headed over to the Academy of Sciences in San Francisco last week. It has just recently opened back up after a long re-building stretch, and the reviews are mixed.

There's a four-story rainforest there, full of butterflies. It's also home to little poison tree frogs that are almost close enough to lick. Note to anyone planning on visiting, though: get your Planetarium passes early. By the time we got there, all the passes were gone. I was especially impressed by the new and improved Steinhart Aquarium: The fishies and jellies are always a favorite:

Afterward, we headed down to the fish market section of the Wharf for lunch:

Behold the paragon of San Francisco cuisine - fresh, hot, crustilicious sourdough bread (Can you hear the angels singing? Can you?):

And the bowl of fresh clam chowder served in an edible sourdough bowl. I mean, seriously. Don't even get me started:

From there, it was short jaunt over to Pier 39 to check out the sights (I love playing tourist in my own town):

Adam and Steve as mermen...only in San Francisco:No visit to the Pier is complete without a pow wow with the sea lions. The fragrance is, in all ways, striking and unique.

We headed to a different part of the waterfront, where a bunch of the old Playland elements are on display. Playland was a turn-of-the-century amusement park on the beach in SF, and, let me tell you...Folks were TWISTED a hundred years ago. (Mommy? Looking at Jolly Jack gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my tummy...):

Anyone who saw the old Tom Hanks movie, Big, will no doubt remember Laughing Sal ("Terrifying Children for nearly a Century!").

"See Susie dance the Can-Can!" (Do we have to?)

"Here's a quarter, Timmy. Now, run along and play with the Opium Den like a good little boy..."

"Safety word...SAFETY WORD!!!"

Suffice it to say that one of these afterward would not have been a bad idea:

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oldie/goodie

I like this song. I like that the video highlights the bridge I'll drive over this morning and the city through which I'll wander with the kids. Must remember to bring the camera.

Did I mention that a big group of us went out to Limantour beach/Point Reyes the other day, and we saw dolphins leaping in the waves just off shore while the kids were learning to body surf? It's so good to have this place to come back to now and then.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

back and breathless

A full two months has passed since I last blogged, so I figured it was time to roll up my sleeves, take a deep, cleansing breath and get back to it.

But have you ever noticed that, sometimes, just getting back to it can be a little terrifying? This is especially true - I've recently discovered - after major life changes come along and upheave (Is this even a word? Because if it is, I plan to drop it into as many casual conversations as possible) all the terra firma you once took for granted. In the past year I've lost people I never expected to lose, including, to some extent, myself. And you know that thing about how we're supposed to literally become different people every seven years (something about all the changes that happen on a cellular level)? Well, I feel like I've taken the summer session/accelerated path of becoming someone I never knew existed.

I couldn't begin to cover everything I've been up to for the past two months (much less in the last 12 months) in a single post, so I'll try to start small and keep it simple, beginning with what's been going on lately.

As was the case at this time last year, I'm back in the Bay Area, visiting all those sacred (to me) places from my childhood, running at the old high school track, skinny dipping in the old swimming pool, catching up on all the changes that have been taking place here while I've been away and visiting with some of the white-haired neighbors, a few in varying degrees of declining health, who I remember being - a long time ago - roughly the same age I am now.

I can feel how the sand has shifted every time I come back home now. It's scary, yes, but it's also exhilarating, like being a first-timer on a roller coaster that's picking up speed: You know there are thrills and spills in the immediate future, but you don't yet know if they're going to make you laugh, scream or come this close to woofing your cookies. So, whatever's waiting on the tracks up ahead, here's to raising our hands high in the air and settling in for the ride of our lives.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fotog friday: giving a hoot, and bye for now

Here are some recent things that remind me to count my blessings:

1) The "Great 4-H Enchilada Production Line"


This happened last weekend at the home of our local 4-H Swine Project leader. By the time all was said and done, there were enough enchilada orders filled to allow the club to purchase a large animal scale. This will come in handy for the market animals heading to the County Fair auction in the fall, but as the local 4-H Horse Project leader, I'm looking forward to weighing some horses on it as well. Those enchis were piled nearly floor to ceiling high, I tell ya:

2) Mother's Day roses:

Some from friends, and some from family (I am lucky to call myself richly blessed in both departments).

3) That dog:

Lizzie's herding instincts have gotten a little too intense lately, especially with all the kids we have running in and out of the house on a regular basis. So, with summer vacation fast approaching, we're getting back to some remedial training and socialization with her, including long runs and frequent trips to son's Little League practices. She's a good girl, though, so I have no doubt we'll get her hyper vigilant Aussie brain back in line. This evening she accompanied me on a long walk throughout the neighborhood, during which I was able to collect a big bag of roadside trash. Those Woodsy Owl commercials from the 70's made a big impression, though I don't think any commercial cut as deep as that crying Indian - er, Native American - canoeing past all the riverbank trash. (Is it just me, or does he bear a strong resemblance to Kramer from Seinfeld?)

And with all that said, I'm also going to say my yearly "Goodbye for now." AWAAR will be going dark for a while. How long? Dunno. What I do know is that life is demanding my focused attention in ways I could not have foreseen a year ago, and so I'll give that attention where necessary - including to the Year of Writing Dangerously, which I committed to in January and which has, heretofore, not been quite as dangerous as it should be. So, we'll see where it all ends up. Hopefully I'll have plenty of daring adventure stories with which to regale you upon my return.

Cheerio!

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w.o.k. wednesday: nanci

The finest hour I have seen is the one that comes between the edge of night and the break of day - it's when the darkness rolls away.
-Kate Wolf

Really, what more is there to say?

Actually, there's probably lots. I've loved Nanci for years, and when she came to Flagstaff with Jerry Jeff Walker when my daughter was a newborn, it was a delight. I just recently listened to her Other Voices, Other Rooms CD after a long hiatus, and I was reminded of how much I love Across the Great Divide. But This one (click on "Play this track") is, hands down, my favorite to holler along to when travelin' down the Interstate.

But, shoot: I totally forgot about Ford Econoline...he built a golden cage around his silver-coated wife. Gotta love it.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k. wednesday: interstate elvis

So, here's the deal. You and a buddy are cruising into Vegas on I-515, both of you sweating it a bit because you got a later-than-anticipated start that morning, and you're worried that maybe you won't make it to the backstage area of the venue in time to get your special passes to the evening's hot ticket.

Traffic over Hoover Dam has set you back further, as have all the RV-hauling lookie-loos on the road - all of whom are apparently allergic to driving any faster than ten miles below the speed limit. Further heightening the tension is the fact that you'll still have to check into the hotel at some point, get dressed, get pretty, and then get back on the road by the time the Pussycat Dolls take to the stage.

But then you look out the window at all the neighboring traffic, and you see him:

And, suddenly, everything is A-okay. Because, suddenly, you're reminded that life isn't about stressing over the details: It's all about individuality and following your bliss. It's all about the Oh-I-Just-Gotta-Be-Me.

And this Interstate Elvis? He's doing it right.

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a night at the circus

So, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement stating that I wouldn't discuss The Artist or her family. Which mean I ain't sayin' NUTHIN (though it might kill me not to). I was also told that I could face a $50K fine for taking a picture of her (and that my friend's husband could lose his job), so I didn't do that, either.

Thank Heaven for YouTube. The sound quality sucks, but you can get an idea. Also, I think the smoke used to fill up the arena was actually powder-scented, because I've been to very few concerts that didn't smell like a bong/beer/bile combo to at least some extent.

The Pussycat Dolls opened for Brit, and I didn't sign anything saying I couldn't talk about them, so I will. I have to admit, I went in a bit sneery. I mean, please. The Pussycat Dolls?? But they were actually quite talented, and they put on a great show. Here they are singing Don't Cha.

Afterward, Maiden and I wandered the Strip, grabbed a bite to eat, looked at some overpriced clothes and then CRASHED at about 2:30 a.m. like toddlers coming off a birthday party sugar binge.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

britney in vegas, baby!!!!!!!!!!

Affix those pasties, Girl, 'cause here we come. Tomorrow night. Ringside seats and backstage passes.

I am SO not kidding.

How cool is it to have friends who not only know just what the doctor ordered but know how to DELIVER the prescription right when it's needed most?

Brain is reeling.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

a small bag used for carrying money and Xanax

Somebody make it stop. Because it is too much wry goodness, and a person could possibly die from an overdose of such a thing. (Actually, a few are a little too off color/Robot Chickenish even for me, but I think the concept is absolutely brilliant.)Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fotog Friday: I was going to title this post

“not cool.”

and then I was going to be clever and write something like “On second thought, too cool.”

Because we’ve had snow this week – enough snow to coat the San Francisco Peaks, and the roads and the swing set out back. Enough coldness to leave black ice on the road when I took Lizzie out for a run yesterday evening.





Frankly, I was going to bitch about the snow and about the fact that it's mid-April for cryin' out loud, and isn't it enough that we've already had to endure tax season on top of a long winter? But then Maiden sent me a link to this. Which means the title of this post is now officially and simply: OMG. (Be sure to watch for the rundowns and sliding stops that start at about 3:40).


Maiden and I both have dads who deserve this kind of tribute whether they’re still walking this earth or not. I hope you do, too. And if you’re a guy, and you don’t happen to have that kind of dad, I sure as hell hope you can be that kind of dad. Because you're sorely needed.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: down from every ledge

Try blasting Xtina on the iPod when you're working the hip adductor machine at the gym, and see if it doesn't give your workout a boost. This particular video is for you, MP. You know why. (But why was there no swimsuit footage?)

It's Tax Time Countdown here at AWAAR, Folks - and there's been extra special, added excitement this year. But, hey. Throw in the good man Ms. Aguilera sings about, some good friends and a good (if ever-so-slightly neurotic) dog, and you (I) can tackle anything, right?

Right?

Here's to survival - tax-related and otherwise. Without it, no attitude at altitude would be even remotely possible.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

yet one more movie script i wish i'd written

And I'm not even a Sci-Fi fan.

But this. This was like The Matrix on estrogen: Pure, futuristic girl power kick-assedness.

Lurved all of it - the cinematography, the philosophy and the theology.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k wednesday: the girls

Last fall, while sitting in my kitchen shootin' the breeze, a good friend suggested that we start a cooking group. You know, one of those regular get-togethers where the people take turns planning a meal, hosting the group, cooking the main dish, etc.

I think my initial response at the time went something like this: "Uhhhhhhhhhh."

Because let's just say that the kitchen has never been the most comfy room in the house for me (when it come to creating something, that is; I'm more than happy to eat there). My mother was and is an amazing cook, and I have many fond memories of the awesome meals she served when I was growing up. Many of them were quite cosmopolitan and almost unheard of at the time, too: Oxtail soup, tripe, stuffed cabbage rolls, cow tongue with mustard sauce - you name it. And while I knew I always had an open invitation to help out in the kitchen as a girl, I rarely took her up on it.

So, I thought my friend's cooking group idea was a good one in theory. In practice I wasn't so sure. But it turns out I needn't have worried. We've been meeting regularly for several months now, and I can honestly say that the women I've met through the cooking group have become dear and trusted friends. There's something about the "No Men and No Kids Allowed" rule that has seemed to bring us all close together. Of course, it also helps that these ladies are all incredibly intelligent, funny and ambitious to boot. Makes me appreciate my half of the species all over again every time we meet, kind of like watching Sex and the City (the movie) did when I saw it a few weeks ago.

So, we started with a nummy pork dish back in 2008. There has also been an amazing squash lasagna that was to die for, a salmon dish that I enjoyed maybe a little too much (since I was all but rolling out of the hostess' house at the end of the night) and my Moroccan chicken tagine last month. And don't even get me STARTED on the desserts. Oy. This month it looks like we're going the beef route, and there's also some recent talk of mojitos and martinis to boot. No doubt there will also be available shoulders to cry on (should they be required by one or more of us), available ears to hear all the latest man/kid/mommying/marriage/skin care news and available lungs to laugh heartily at the newest jokes.

I. Can't. Wait.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

hello, thirty-nine

Here is how my birthday began this morning. I've decided this Linkin Park number will be the official song of my 39th year.

Went on Tower of Terror with my son and my nephew. Twice. It's taken me two years to work up the nerve. All our hearts were pounding in anticipation as we waited to step inside that "service elevator." And it was SO fun.

By the time the kids and I got back to where we were staying with several other family members (south of Riverside) at about midnight tonight, this was the last thing I heard on the radio. Sweet, sweet, sweet, and completely reminiscent of junior high dances lo those many decades ago.

I'm not sure what the deal is with the Journey theme this week, but I'm just going with it. I hope you all have a great weekend.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: in the heat with a bluejean girl

It's just been one of those days where you have to get back to basics and forge ahead. Steve Perry and Neal Schon helped me do just that today after I found my old "Escape" cassette tape hidden way back in a drawer. This is my favorite Journey song ever, because it's totally rad.

Being a Bay Area teenager, I, of course, saw them live at multiple Bill Graham/Day on the Green concerts. I also worked at a pizza restaurant frequented by the likes of the Journey boys and Huey Lewis. Anyone remember Papa Vito's on Greenfield Ave? It's where I first played both Frogger AND PacMan. Oh! And at the Marin County Fair I once stood in line for the "Zipper" right near Neal Schon. He was foxy and unmistakable in those 80's shades and denim vest.

See? The day's getting better already.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

flagrant, exhausted

I've been a baaaaaad blogger yet again, but I'm finding time slipping away from me like most other people I know. Even though the days are longer now, there's so much catching up to do.

Let's see. It's too early in the morning for me to blog on a coherent theme, so here are some random bits and bytes:

Got highlights put in my hair a few months back (first time in decades - the stylist was all, "Your hair. It's so virginal."), because it was the heart of winter and something needed to be done to lighten the mood. Anyway, they needed to be touched up recently, so I went back to the salon last week. I emerged a few hours later looking like a Vegas showgirl (my hair, anyway - not anything below it). I tried to just sort of roll with the platinum look - I really did. But after enough people took one look at me and said things like, "WHOA. Blonde," I got the picture. So, I went back for some "low lights," and it's all better now.

What else...Um, in doing some research for a potential upcoming project, I'm back to reading Marguerite Duras. Anais Nin and Milan Kundera will be coming up soon on the reading list, I figure, but here are some lines from The Lover that caught my eye: "At the age of fifteen I had the face of pleasure, and yet I had no knowledge of pleasure. There was no mistaking that face. Even my mother must have seen it. My brothers did. That was how everything started for me - with that flagrant, exhausted face, those rings around the eyes, in advance of time and experience."

It's very sparse prose, this book about a young girl's "awakening" in prewar Indochina, very chopped off in chunks and blocks, short paragraphs here and there, a complete jumping around in time. "Digressions within digressions" was how one of my beta readers described a manuscript I wrote a couple years ago. So, I suppose I didn't handle that time jumping as well as Ms. Duras.

Okay, here's one more quote, totally unrelated (but I like it): "Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing." - Hellen KellerFollow @nicole_mcinnes

it's here, it's here, it's here, it's here....

It's finally HERE!!!!

Tonight marks the beginning of spring! The season of new life and rebirth! The moment when the day and the night are equal in length (if I'm understanding the definition of equinox, that is - feel free to flog me if I'm not).

I've been practicing my bokeh since Wednesday:




Clearly, I have more practicing to do (it would help if I could get my foreground subjects in focus for one). But, hey, I was working without a tripod. At least it's a start, and I think I have the basic idea down.

This morning a dear friend from my son's toddler/pre-school playgroup days came by with her kids, and we spent a few hours catching up, marvelling at what the passage of time does to the relative size of young'uns and walking the property to scope out the best place for me to start some raised beds. And tonight we will be celebrating the beginning of spring here at Casa AWAAR by reinstating our nightly, pre-bedtime porch time. So, if you're anywhere within a hundred mile radius of the San Francisco Peaks (with their rapidly melting snow blankie) come join us on the porch swing. It's like Grandma's feather bed John Denver sang about in that it holds more folks than it looks like it might.

Viva the Vernal Equinox!!Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k. wednesday: three things

This is strictly off-the-cuff and has not been long deliberated since I'm down with a cold, but here are the three foods I'd want with me if I was stranded on an island somewhere or if Armageddon happened and I was the only one left (not the ideal scenario, obviously): dark chocolate, red wine (okay, technically a drink and not a food - and I'd need orange juice to put in it, since I'm pretty redneck that way (which maybe would count as a fourth thing)) and San Francisco sourdough.

Here are the three non e-books I'd want: Cold Mountain, Gilead and the Bible (NIV, annotated).

Here are the three movies (assuming, of course, that I had a portable DVD player and an endless batteries): The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Jerry McGuire and Gone with the Wind.

Here are the three toiletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, my homemade soap

Here are the three pieces of technology: a Kindle (with a good supply of books, obviously), my iPod, my laptop.

What are some of your three things?Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: bokeh

So, I was thinking I should save this post for fotog friday, but maybe I'll just have to have some of my own examples ready to feature here at AWAAR by then.

Here's the thing. I've been thinking about what really makes me drool, photo-wise. And while -yes, let's just admit it, shall we? - pictures of Hugh Jackman generally do the trick, it's more the qualities especially droolable photos have in common that I was pondering. And one of those qualities is bokeh, which is when the subject stands out in sharp relief against a background that is out-of-focus to the point of being pretty much decorative only (think super shallow depth-of-field, and you'll get the picture)...

like here...

and here (though I would like to see a little PhotoShop unsharp mask and more color saturation applied to this one).

And of course, the awesome Pioneer Woman has some nice bokeh featured in her photo tutorials. She highlights Bakerella whose Wii cupcakes...well, they take the cake (and first prize for allover bokeh numminess).

My desire to achieve the same in my own pictures has led me all over the Web and all over my D80 user's manual. There's one forum for Nikon users in particular that has been especially useful in helping me figure out some of the limitations and upsides of the particular lenses I've been trying to use. All I know is this: I have to grab hold of this information while I'm receptive to it. Being a 90% (in my estimation - I don't do percentages well) right-brained gal, the days when I can process technical details are few and far between. Today just happened to be one of those days when I was all about technical attitude at altitude, so we'll see what I'm able to do to with it.

Oh, and a Facebook Update! Man, that place is scary - in a good way, mostly. It's been only a couple of days, but I've already gotten in touch with three old friends from high school (plus lots of other folks I see/talk to regularly). And I can totally see how it can become addictive.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

moooooooooooo

I am officially part of the Facebook herd as of this weekend.

Somehow, I feel so....so...un-unique. But also exhilarated, because just think of all the FRIENDS I might collect....

But also a little pinchy in the gut, because just think of all the potential REJECTION...

Gah! It's like not being able to find my locker on the first day of seventh grade all over again.

(Is that a zit I feel forming right on the tip of my nose?)

Anyway. No biggee - and it's not like I really CARE or anything - but friend me, if you're on Facebook, too, yo: I'm using my maiden name on there, which is Nicole McInnes.

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word of the day: impetuosity

As in "SocioPoliticalEconomic impetuosity: I has it."

Tender hugs in advance to my many leftie friends. Y'all know who you are, and you know I love you. But I just couldn't resist posting this gentle, loving Miltie smackdown. It's an oldie but a goodie.

(Ducking the onslaught of flamethrower fire, wadded up Obama '08 bumper stickers and rotten vegetables in 3...2...1...)

The five-part Ayn Rand interview posted on YouTube is excellent as well. While I disagree with much of what Rand espouses, I somehow admire her almost shockingly staunch defense of her position - and Donohue did a great job. The whole thing also gets surprisingly touching at the end, if you dare to watch all the parts.

Oh! And 15,000 hits on AWAAR? How exciting is that? Of course, I sure as heck don't see anywhere near 15,000 COMMENTS on here. Anyway, it's widely acknowledged that I need to get out more, and 15K is nothing to blogs like dooce, PostSecret, etc. Still. I got a little thrill. Call me impetuously dorky.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fotog friday: the aussie gals

It's hard to believe that Lizzie is officially no longer a pup. She turned a year old about a week ago, so no more excuses are allowed...for ransacking the bathroom wastepaper basket...for peeing on the carpet...for shredding every blanket I put in her kennel...for sticking her nose and tongue where they ought not be. Why do I have a feeling she won't heed the one-year rule?


Then there's SheDog, the ancient Aussie gal who will be fourteen in just a couple of months. Sigh. I remember when I could hold her in the crook of my arm like a baby. I took this picture of the two of them last fall. Such furry little menschs. I love them.

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w.o.k. wednesday: a poster of rasputin and a beard down to his knee

By golly but it's been a heck of a day. It started with a failed Internet connection and a resulting missed Hour of Great Importance (at least in the Small Picture version of things), and it ended with about 18 people in my house for the monthly 4-H community meeting due to our original meeting place having fallen through at the last minute.

Then there was the really odd, two-hour-long conversation with Verizon Tech Support and the really deep conversation with a friend about love and loss and motherhood and womanhood.

It's days like this that make me thank my lucky stars for the cool Poetry student from way back in my NAU teaching days who introduced me to the Indigo Girls. What was it I read recently about a young woman who had to assure her anxious mother that she really wasn't a lesbian: She just really liked the IGs' songs?

And I don't mind telling you that I popped an old worn-out cassette into the 4 Runner's tape deck and belted out a mean harmonization of this one on Old Route 66 this morning. Because days like today - days when you feel about as far away from fine as you can get - call for nothing less.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

happy b-day,

Chuck.

Maybe you can take a day off from sending bad guys to a world of hurt.

Don't know why I got such a kick out of this.

A Roundhouse kick, that is.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

spring trim

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a sigh for Rihanna

Don't get me wrong. I love her. Love her voice, love her look, love her vibe, love the Soft Cell sampling in this well-known song of Rihanna's.

But this thing with Chris Brown? Come on. And it's not like I'm all bent out of shape about the example she's setting for girls and women everywhere, because I know it's my job as a mother to educate my daughter (and my son, for that matter) that people can only treat you the way you allow them to treat you. And if you allow them to abuse you - whether it's psychologically, emotionally, verbally and/or physically - that's more than likely what you're going to get.

Keith Ablow had some, I think, extremely valid points about the whole syndrome for which Rihanna is pretty much the current poster child. I especially found myself nodding at this observation: "Men who abuse women aren’t usually one-time offenders. They lack the internal restraint necessary to control their impulses, or they harbor deep resentment toward females (often rooted in experiences and emotions from when they were much younger) or their behavior and judgment is impaired by alcohol or illicit drugs."

No sh*t.

All I can say is, You're right, Girl. It's definitely not healthy for you to feel this way. And tainted love is putting it mildly.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k. wednesday update

Here are the rink pictures I promised...just a few of the things I think of when I think of ice skating (other than the time I opened my knee up on a protruding nail when skating as a youngster...or the time my mother de-pantsed the guy skating in front of her while desperately reaching for something to grab onto for balance...).

Behold the feet of a teacher and her charges:

...and said charges flailing at a vain attempt to gain purchase on the ice:

...and the cuteness overload that is a single, pink monkey glove:

...and the sheer joy of ice lounging:



...and, finally, the awesome, manly power that can be known by one name and one name only:

ZAMBONI.

So, who can tell I've been working on taxes all day?

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w.o.k. wednesday: the rink

Okay, first I feel the need to type a bit of a mea culpa for being such a terribly bad, awful, neglectful blogger and not posting anything since FebruaryFlippin'24th. Let's just say time in general has been escaping me lately and leave it at that (M53, stop that snickering).

So, I'm hoping to create today's post in two parts, because I haven't yet taken the pictures I want to post here. Here are some hints, though. The lighting will be funky, and there will be ice involved. It will be a good lesson in indoor lighting with the D80, so hopefully I'll get some decent shots.

My daughter will be finishing up her first session of ice skating lessons this evening, and I've promised her McDonald's afterward as a special treat. The thought makes me visibly shudder, prissy food purist that I've become. But she's been working really hard at conquering her solo skating fears, and she really wants the Littlest Pet Shop Gray Squirrel that McD's is apparently giving away with the Happy Meal. So, it's a done deal.

Son will be thrilled, too. Not enough kids signed up for his skating level, so he has basically spent every Wednesday evening for the past several weeks doing free-skate. He's a mini Evil Knievel out there: Couldn't care less about splattering on the ice like a starfish dropped from the Empire State Building - just scrambles back up and off he goes. Ah, for those rubbery bones of youth.

So, check back later to see what Nikon and I were able to come up with.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: the thaw

Seems like just last week it was freezing outside - icicles hanging from the rain gutters, slabs of black ice just outside the garage doors. Oh, wait. It was just last week.

Today it was in the mid-60s according to my Google weather, which means those icicles are no more, and the black ice slabs have turned to puddles. Unfortunately, the Bobcat driver who plowed my driveway several weeks ago also scooped up most of the cinders, which means I'm faced with a muddy mess outside. I'm constantly reminding all the kids who are always running in and out of the house to wipe their feet and take off their shoes just inside the door.

But I don't really mind. It's been a long winter, literally, figuratively and in lots of other -ivelys, so dealing with the new mud and racing the running water on the side of the road when I drive feels almost like some kind of absolution. I walked outside the other day and heard the strangest sound that made me look up. It was coming from way up high in a ponderosa, and it was a solitary songbird singing just for me (or at least that's how it felt). I admire its pluck, but hope it doesn't freeze to death when the next storm front moves in. Today my son got a ticket to the Suns game down in Phoenix in a few weeks, and it's about time for me to stock up on crocus and tulip bulbs to plant outside around the base of the windmill. Maybe I'll really get into the Holland theme and wear a pair of wooden clogs while I'm planting.

I've been kidded for my stubborn insistence that spring is just around the corner, and that's (as SNL's Stuart Smalley would say) "okay." "Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and - doggone it - people like me."

I may be the ultimate optimist, or I may be the Queen of Denial. Whatever it takes to keep the 'tude going in these last dog days of winter is just fine with me.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

what happens in scottsdale

So, we head down to the Scottsdale All-Arabian show on Friday, and it's great, as usual. Good vendors, lovely fillies and colts:


Some deep quality in the under-saddle classes:


Adorable children in the Leadline classes:

Artery-clogging horse show food (....mmmmm....faLAfel........):

But we soon discovered that our primary raison d'etre at Scottsdale was to be the entourage for a certain celebrity. No, I'm not talking about Brit-Brit. It's someone MUCH more of the moment:

Dude. Seriously? Maiden and I couldn't walk more than ten paces without hearing that telltale "AAAAAAAAWWWWWWIsthataBoxer?Howoldisshe?She'sSOOOOOOOOCUUUUUUUUTE."

Show management was really on top of things this year, too. They apparently knew Belle would be coming down from the high country, because they provided her with her own, private facilities:

It's too bad I'm so prejudiced against pit bulls and that I'm totally impervious to puppy breath and warm puppy bellies. Because here's what faced me the next morning in my hotel room bed:

Hey, Belle? Just remember: What happens in Scottsdale stays in Scottsdale. We can keep this between us, right?

'Cause, you know. I got a rep to protect.

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fotog friday the 13th: choices, choices

I'm debating what to wear tomorrow for Valentine's Day. There is, of course, this t-shirt:

And then there's this one:

There's this for background music as Maiden and I escape the icy tundra for the (hopefully) verdant climes of Scottsdale.

And then there's this.

Aw, heck. Who am I kidding? I've always been an optimist.

Bring on the hearts and flowers!

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mad snow skillz

The kids and I spent Saturday up at the Arizona Snowbowl, where they got to ski all day while I hung out at the finish line of the USSA sanctioned slalom race hosted by the Flagstaff Alpine Ski & Snowboard Team. We got there first thing in the morning, before the lifts opened:



To be honest, I wasn't terribly crazy about the idea of leaving the lodge:

But one of my former riding students was competing that day, and I've been wanting to see her race for years. Since her mom is a good friend, I was treated to a front row seat at one of the best views imaginable:


It was also a great place to watch the recreational skiers and snowboarders cruising and crashing down the slope that ran perpendicular to the race course:

Not that I'm one to kid anybody about crashing. I'm strictly a blue/green trail gal myself - snowplowing all the way. The racers at Snowbowl were all young'uns, and their talent was extreme:

They reminded me of the little hotdoggers who used to whip past at 50 mph up at Tahoe, just as I was learning to keep my ski tips together in adult ski school:

And that was our Saturday...just another day in Paradise:

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w.o.k. wednesday: pit crews and hugs

When I was a teenager, my older brother built and raced a little stock Datsun. I went to Sears Point track a few times to watch him, and I remember two things vividly: 1) the absolutely insane decibel level of the engines at full throttle, and 2) the perfectly synchronized teams of men and women in the "pits" - worker bees who were ready to tune up, repair and/or patch the exhausted race cars when they pulled off the track between laps.

Now that I'm all growed up, I'm firmly convinced that the Man Upstairs knows when each of us needs a skilled team to keep our engines running and our tires inflated while traveling over the particularly rough/dangerous patches of life's highway. And while we still may get dinged and dented in the process, our pit crews are there to help see us through.

My current crew is top notch. It's made up of women and men who have "been there, done that" where my current circumstances are concerned and who aren't afraid to share the secrets of what got them through. They'll talk with me, laugh with me, cry with me, listen to me b*tch, tell me when to get over myself, cook with me - and, most importantly, tell clean jokes when appropriate and dirty jokes when required.

Then there are the young'uns, who may not know they're part of my pit crew but who inspire me and make me laugh every day regardless: Every once in a while I'll have lunch at my kids' school, and there will inevitably be half a dozen or so kids who will run up and give me hugs. Did I do this as a kid? And, if so, did I have any clue how much I probably boosted the visiting mom's day? It's a shame that society has gotten to the point where adults have to be so careful these days with hugging those kids back, lest it be deemed inappropriate. I remember an uncle who used to visit us from Hawaii when I was little. He always brought a box of chocolate-covered Macadamia nuts, and he always scooped me up in a major hug that squeezed the breath right out of me as soon as he walked in the front door. He was a bear of a man, and he gave true bear hugs.

Some folks don't know they're in my pit crew, but they are. They're in the car with me, like Shakira and Jill. And they're on the screen, like Rowan and Keira (Have you seen The Duchess? - it's awesome).

So, here's a shout-out to my crew. You know who you are, Ladies and Gents, and I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you. You're all definitely at the top of my Whiskers-on-Kittens list.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: february feast

Spring is next month! Spring is next month! Spring is next month!

I've been waiting since November to say that, like so many other folks I know scattered hither and yon. Imagine my excitement when it's actually March. Talk about attitude at altitude!

I'm fond of February for several reasons. Not only is it the last full month of winter, but it's the month of Love - of hearts and flowers and Be Mines. And, of course, there's also Mama Love.

It's also the month when the Scottsdale Arabian Horse Show hits the Valley of the Sun. I'm looking forward to a little Phoenix fun in just a matter of days now. Scottsdale always presents some great opportunities for shopping (mainly of the window variety in this economy), feasting (horse show falafel...yummmmm), people watching and thawing out. Not to mention the fun of watching all the pretty horses.

Gotta earn the trip, though, so it's back to work for me.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

if it's not scottish...

This was my favorite of all the Super Bowl ads yesterday (other than the horsey circus-love one and the tree branch-fetching Clydes, of course) because it gets me Scottish lassie blood a'boilin' just like a good rendition of Amazing Grace on the bagpipes. I'm trying to figure out how to embed videos from Hulu, so if it doesn't show up below, just click here.



I thought Bruce did a great job during the halftime show, though it sounded like his voice was really disappearing during Born to Run. Glory Days rocked. I saw The Boss during his Born in the USA tour eons ago, and it still ranks right up there with one of the best concerts I've seen. Too bad the Cards lost, but that's the breaks.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

blogcrush '09: chickens in the road

Ever had a blogcrush? You know, you discover a blog (either by accident or because someone insisted you MUST go check it out), and then before you know it you're checking that blog for new posts compulsively, just like a high school girl waiting for the phone to ring, certain that HE is going to call at any moment. Uh, not that I ever did anything like that. No sirree Bob.

Anyway, I've had Suzanne McMinn's blog, Chickens in the Road, on my sidebar for some time now. I was initially drawn in by the title, because anything with "chickens" in it - from blogs to casseroles - is fine with me. Then, in late fall, our entire little flock of silkies was killed, and I was, frankly, too much in mourning to read about someone else's chicken adventures.

But one day I was drawn back to Suzanne's blog, and I'm so glad I was. She's been "discovered" by the blogosphere recently, with her 2008 Bloggies Award mention, which makes the blogosphere very lucky. Because there's something about the way she writes about the tiny details of life on a farm in rural West Virginia. Her words are celebratory and joyful without being too navel gazer-ish. And the recipes! Oy! Just one look at the Burnt Sugar Cake, and I'm a goner all over again. How much does it suck that I don't "do" refined sugar or flour anymore (at least not in large quantities)??

Earlier this week I made sourdough starter from her recipe, which is something I haven't done for many years. Here's a pic of my starter on day one (okay, yeah, so that's refined flour. I never said I was perfect):

The last time I made starter I was living at sea level, so we'll see how it goes at 7,000 feet. I'm hoping to make some good rustic, whole wheat-ish loaves with cranberries, walnuts, etc., sourdough fanatic that I am. Hopefully, they won't turn out rock hard and flat as pancakes. I'd probably still eat them if they did, as long as they had that tang.

So, I'm always up for discovering new blogs: What's one of your blogcrushes?

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w.o.k. wednesday: yoga humility (or, stopping the flow)

Humility is definitely one of my favorite things, which makes it a perfect candidate for Whiskers-on-Kittens Wednesday, when I hold forth on the things I love most. And, as I said before, I love humility.

But actually, wait. Let me rephrase that. I love the IDEA of humility, especially when it happens to other people who so clearly deserve a good dose of it. I can personally do without the experience quite nicely, thanks.

So, I’m sitting in a waiting room not too long ago, reading about Jennifer Aniston, who is about to be 40 and who maintains her 19-year-old A-list bod by practicing Yoga several times a week. Now, I was born just a few years after the Summer of Love, and I was raised just a few miles north of the Golden Gate. I went to school at UC Santa Cruz, for crying out loud. So, I’ve kinda been there done that where stuff like Yoga and Tai Chi – all those kinder and gentler forms of physical discipline - are concerned. Which made it a no-brainer to show up for a class called Flow Yoga at the athletic club this morning – a class that just happened to be starting a few minutes after I arrived for my workout. I recently took another Yoga class there – Pillow and Blanket Yoga, that one was called. And it was lovely: Dimmed lights, warm room, the soft, droning voice of the instructor. You could almost feel your chakras being given a colon cleanse, and afterward you felt so…At One with the Universe.

So, this morning I went ahead and removed my shoes and socks, unrolled my Yoga mat and began stretching while eagerly anticipating the arrival of Universal Oneness. It was a very small class compared to the Pillow and Blanket Yoga, a fact I chalked up to the time of day (late morning rather than lunchtime). Also, I noticed that the other people there just had that Yoga “look.” You know the one I’m talking about: Long, braided hair, no makeup, and SERENITY written all over their faces with indelible rainbow marker, which – now that I think about it – should have been a red flag. The Flow Yoga instructor turned out to be the same guy who taught the other class. He greeted some of the people in the room by name, and he soon had us all stretching and bending and assuming some of the more basic poses like Downward-Facing Dog and Chair pose. It was a breeze.

And then something went horribly, horribly wrong.

We had just come out of the Plank pose – breathing in as we looked up toward the ceiling and then breathing out as we assumed the butt-high DF Dog pose. “Raise your right leg up behind you,” the instructor cooed. So far so good. “Now bend it at the knee, so your right foot falls toward your left hip.” I had to look around at the other folks to see exactly what he meant by this, but I figured it out fairly quickly. Finding my balance thusly was a bit challenging, but in a peacefully exhilarating kind of way, the way I imagine Mahatma Gandhi felt taking a cold shower.

Then the instructor said, “Now grab your right ankle behind you with your left hand.”

I’m sorry?

Just turning my head to check what the Yoga goddess to my right was doing was hard enough, let alone removing one of my main pillars of balance from the floor. But she was doing just that – balancing on one foot and one hand while contortioning the rest of her body into a completely unnatural (and possibly unbiblical) shape. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I’ll just wait quietly until this pose passes, I thought to myself, not wanting to cause a scene by actually attempting the maneuver. I mean, how much worse could it get?

“Now back to Downward-Facing Dog and into Warrior Two pose,” the instructor said. Phew. THOSE I could do.

“Now into Airbus on the Hudson.”

Okay, so that’s not exactly what he said, but it may as well have been. I kid you not: My classmates were actually balancing on their hands alone, knees tucked under their armpits.

“Now Inverted Gorilla with Athletes Foot Lashed to a Hot-Air Balloon. Good, Maya.”

At which point I simply sat on my haunches and resigned myself to being the lone squatter in a room full of levitating pretzels. After a couple minutes of this, I realized that it was not going to get any better and that I had two options: I could either sit there wearing the Dunce Cap of Oneness Failure for the next twenty minutes until class was over, or I could excuse myself as discreetly as possible. Needless to say, I chose option 2, wincing as I hastily rolled up the Yoga mat, then grabbing my shoes and socks and heading toward the door.

Apparently, you’re supposed to bow to your instructor any time you leave a Yoga class having lost 95% of your dignity less than halfway through. Who knew? As he bowed at me with sorrowful eyes and went to hold the door open, my arms were so full of stuff that the most I could manage was a sort of cringing nod of my head. So, I figure my karma has officially been flushed down the toilet to boot.

Be sure to turn in next Wednesday, when you’ll hear Nicole say, “But I’m sure I wasn’t Ivan the Terrible in a past life!”Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: on reading time (or the lack thereof)

So, I have running lists of books that have been recommended to me. I have lists on paper, lists on the computer and lists in my head. The problem is, I’ve turned into the polar opposite of an Evelyn Wood Speed Reading School Graduate (which would be…what exactly? Hopefully, you get my drift).

I don’t know if I’ve actually started to read more slowly or if the time I am able to devote to reading has just diminished dramatically due to life’s relentless schedule. I do know that the ratio of waiting list books to books I’ve actually read has increased a gazillion-fold in recent years. So, maybe I’ll have to name a Year of Reading Dangerously come some future New Year’s Eve.

Anyway, while full of attitude yesterday about all the authors I’ve been hoping to read but haven’t (Kate Morton, Bill Bryson, Jhumpa Lahiri, etc., etc., etc.) I found myself in two bookstores. The first was Bookman’s, a longtime Flagstaff institution and gathering spot, where you can trade your old books for new/used ones and find some real treasures along the way. One evening back in the early nineties I was hanging out in the poetry section when a guy asked me if I knew where they kept Robert Graves’ books. I didn’t know, but I wish I had. Maybe that way I could have given Michael Stipe of R.E.M. a little tour of the store and then the town while we hung out and discussed our views on life. I could have asked him about his inspiration for Fall on Me (my favorite R.E.M. song of all time – and his, too, according to this old Unplugged recording), and I could have told him that the first boy I ever really kissed had a big R.E.M. poster on his bedroom wall. Of course, once I realized who the guy in Bookman’s was, I got all tongue tied instead (which was probably just as well), and there went my fifteen-second brush with fame. The next day it was all over the local grapevine that he’d been in town.

My next stop was the local B&N where I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for. I did, however, find a really cheap hardback copy of Special Topics in Calamity Physics, which has been on my list ever since it came out and started that whole debate in the writing community about author photos and whether or not it's easier to get published/marketed if you're drop-dead gorgeous - especially if you've just graduated from pre-school when your debut novel comes out.

Before I dive into the Pessl novel, though, I need to finish Messud’s book. I’m in the home stretch and still, for the life of me, can’t figure out how this became a National Bestseller. Maybe you have to be a New Yorker to get it. Then, I plan to read Tammy’s Two Rivers. So, maybe Calamity Physics will have to wait just a bit. I mean, how long can it take me to finish one book and then read another? I figure I’ll easily be cracking open my new find by the time grandkids arrive.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

photog friday (or, there she goes with the blog format thing again)

I'm going to try using the blog for some photography talk on Fridays. Nice way to keep in touch with my ever-expanding picture collection, I figure.

It occurs to me that I very rarely post pictures of myself here (or anywhere, for that matter), and it's because I very rarely like pictures of myself. But here's one anyway, because, while it's no longer the year of "Try It," it is "The Year of Writing Dangerously" (and, for me, this counts as the latter):

I kind of like it, actually. My dad took it over Labor Day weekend when I was manning (womanning?) my booth at the County Fair. It's one of those weekends of my life I will likely never forget, mainly due to the confluence of extremely stressful/world-altering events that were all going on at the same time in my personal and professional life.

It's a bit blurry (which is maybe one of the reasons I like it), and my hairstyle's changed since. But I don't know. Maybe it's the conversation I had with an old friend about martial arts last night - how that type of discipline can break you open in necessary ways, can give you a perspective from which you can start to see that you've actually made some progress along the path toward betterment. Man, that sounds cheesy. Hopefully, I'll figure out how to say it better someday.

Anyway, something about this picture makes me want to turn around and look at the path behind me. It makes me want to walk up to the gal smiling in her cute western shirt and say, "Right now, you're acting like it's all going to be okay. Keep doing that. Because you're right."

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fancy buns and cool eye news

To quote an oft used Internet phrase: Wow. Just...wow. (Hey, Honey? All I was trying to do was vacuum up some dust bunnies under the table, and now the darn thing's clogged!)

I owned a rabbit once. I was in grad school, and I kept her in one of those collapsible dog kennels in my rented, upstairs bedroom of a tiny yellow cottage in the country. She was a dwarf lop (or some such thing) and she used to thump incessantly on the wood floor in the middle of the night. She also liked to eat paint and drag the dog kennel across said wood floor with her teeth, until I'd say, "Shut UP already." We made each other nervous, to say the least.

In other, totally unrelated news, Mama has a new set of eyes. I was actually hoping to have LASIK done, since I'm pretty much legally blind when I'm not wearing my glasses or contacts. Unfortunately, I was told that because my prescription is so severe and due to the shape of my eyeballs (which apparently resemble eggs lying on their sides, pointy ends out) the doc would have to laser off so much "material" (read "cornea") that I would actually lose contrast in my vision. Yikes.

"But would my eyelids droop, since there wouldn't be so much eyeball there to hold them up?" I wanted to know. At which point the technician just stared at me and said, "Uh, no. Those eyelid muscles pretty much work on their own."

So, I was bummed. I've been in hard or RGP (rigid gas permeable) contacts now for over twenty years, and I was really looking forward to the miracle of vision without corrective devices. No such luck, BUT...

Enter Hybrid Contact Lenses!! They're basically soft lenses with RGP centers, which means they should, in theory, be much more comfortable. Also, I have 20/20 vision on one eye while wearing them - and darned close to 20/20 in the other eye. Now I'm just crossing my fingers that they stay as comfortable and clear as they are at the moment.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k. wednesday (or, picasa had me at hello)

It's Whiskers-on-Kittens Wednesday again already, which means you get to be subjected to my expounding on one of my newest favorite things.

So, I've been having image anxiety lately. Not about my own image which is, as they say, what it is (i.e. sometimes meh, sometimes rather J. Garner-ish (if frequent, random comments by strangers are to be believed), and sometimes (to moi, at least) a little Krypt Keeper-ish - 5 a.m. mirror check after being up grading papers until midnight, anyone?).

Ah, January...

No, what's been making me lose little bytes of sleep here and there ever since my laptop started acting out a few months ago are those literally thousands of digital photos I have stored on the hard drive. Not a good idea, I know, especially since I'm shooting with a 10 mp D80, and most of those files are still in their original size. At least I don't have any RAW files on there, but still. I know they've been slowing down the Dell's performance significantly, and if the system ever had a major hotflash, all those precious images could be toast.

t. greenwood's premiere reading of Two Rivers in Flagstaff

Now, I'm not a total butthead. I have been backing up the files, to an extent: I've been a (mostly) happy Shutterfly customer for year, and I've found it to be an easy way to organize, share and print photos (I even made a leather-bound photobook for my dad's birthday a few years back, and it turned out really well). I also have a few jumpdrives that are packed to the gills. Still, I was fairly disorganized about backing stuff up, and most of the original files were still on my hard drive, because Shutterfly does not do high-resolution downloads (which means you can't pull the original files back off their site for editing in, say, Photoshop after you have uploaded them to Shutterfly). Result: Total virtual clutter (e-clutter? iclutter?) on the 'puter, and while I'm hardly FlyLady, I do grow less tolerant of unnecessary clutter as the offspring grow.

Happy 23rd Birthday to my guy, Zzari!

So, the hunt was on for an online storage site that would allow me to upload and store lots and lots of images and would also allow me to download the full-res, original files for frequent Photoshop playdates before re-uploading the revised files. I didn't care much about editing features of the prospective site, since these features are generally pretty limited and I'm a PS groupie at heart. So, I hunted and I gathered, checking out sites like Fotki (which looks pretty cool) and Carbonite (which has gotten great reviews, but is more like an entire system backup tool - and which I may end up using anyway).

Congrats on your new family, little Belle!

Enter Picasa. Not only is it free (unless you want a ton of storage space - which I do), but it automatically uploads images from your hard drive and organizes them in a logical way. Plus, you can pull those original files any time. Also, since it's Google's baby, chances are it's not going to go belly-up overnight (and I'm not going to wake up one morning to find that all my images have vanished into the ether). I still won't use it as my only backup, but I'm pretty secure with Google since I use it daily for email/browsing and since my employer has recently switched over to Gmail as well.

So, I'm sold, and I'm sleeping better at night, too. Which means I may start to resemble the Krypt Keeper a little a less and the female half of Bennifer a little more. (Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?)

What's not to love?

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attitude at altitude tuesday

It's Attitude at Altitude Tuesday, Folks - where you get to hear me opine from 7,000 feet on anything that contributes to me having a big 'ol attitude (good, bad or ugly). Let us begin:

Bad character - my own or anyone else's. It ticks me off when someone gets the chance - over and over - to simply do right, and they choose to do wrong anyway. A bit of a vague "thing" this is, I know, but it's true. It especially ticks me off when I realize I've chosen to do the wrong thing (i.e. getting whiney about a situation rather than getting productive and doing something about it, thus becoming part of the problem rather than part of the solution).

I was driving home from town in the late afternoon the other day and was treated to one of those cotton candy-and-violets winter skies that are peculiar to the month of January here at Arizona altitude. The 4Runner's radio was tuned in to a country station (unusual lately, since I've been more inclined toward Thousand Foot Krutch, Nickelback (Chad, sigh, yada yada), etc.). Anyway, this song was on the radio. I kinda like it, and it kinda speaks to the whole character thing.

Tuesday 'tude over and out.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

whiskers-on-kittens wednesday

I was also thinking of titling this post "Nicki's Favorite Things," but it just seemed to be a too-blatant Oprah rip-off.

So, here's the deal. I'm already figuring out that keeping up with the blog is going to be a bit of a challenge during this Year of Writing Dangerously. So, I figured I'd try to carve out some kind of format, little by little.

And I'm well aware that most people don't give a rat's patootie about my favorite things, but it might help me keep in touch with my itsy corner of the Interwebs. So, there.

Oh, and in case your brain hasn't yet found that file of origin for the phrase "Whiskers on kittens," think Julie Andrews. Think nun. Think the vast green hills of Austria. Think Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... sung in her inimitable voice. Got it? Good.

In fact, I think I'll kick off this first installment of WOK Wednesday by taking us right there, right now:

Hence.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

food for sunday thought

I came across an interesting signature line recently:

"Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future."

Turns out, it's a pretty well known saying, but I'd never heard it. The pithiness impresses.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the year of writing dangerously

...may not sound like much of a motto. Maybe it's more of a theme. But I've decided it's going to be the overarching challenge to myself for 2009.

That may mean I blog more, or it may mean just the opposite as other projects pull me away from AWAAR a bit. I don't know yet how it's all going to shake down.

What I do know is that this year of writing dangerously begins with an edit, which I am in the thick of (of which I am in the thick?) as I type. I know this book and these characters so well at this point, and it never ceases to amaze me that they can both continue to change significantly each time I go back in for a rewrite.

I've got another book on the back burner as well, one I've been working on in fits and spurts throughout the past year. And, who knows? Maybe I'll even take another crack at NaNoWriMo in November.

I plan to read a lot as well, since I've had so many great-sounding books recommended to me by friends old and new this year. But I intend for the writing to be at the forefront. We'll see how it goes.

So, the burning question: What's your motto for 2009?Follow @nicole_mcinnes