Status

No longer wearing my wedding rings…

rings

… for now.

Precious Readers, for the first time in almost a decade, I’m wandering the streets with no wedding ring anymore. Here’s why:

For those who haven’t met me in person, I’m a large, fat gal. Not being self-deprecating. It’s the truth. This topic has come up a few times over the last few weeks with my hyper-health-conscious co-workers. I figure, since I already share so much of my life with you already, that I should also address this issue:

Since childhood, I’ve struggled with having a healthy weight. Yes, another American cliché of being obsessed with my size, while also not taking care of myself and being clinically diagnosed as obese.

Now, before I get started, I’d like to disclaimer this post that sharing my childhood with you is not making excuses as to why I was unhealthy. It is merely stating what has already happened in the past and possible issues that may have influenced my life choices about my health.

As I’ve shared in the past, both of my parents grew up incredibly poor in Oregon on farms. This often led to limited budget and food sources. My parents, having grown up with this experience did not want their children to ever be without anything. They also were slightly above average age at the time of my adoption. My Mom was 38 and my Dad was 39. They also both worked full-time, I was put in daycare if I wasn’t in school, and they would come home exhausted after working a full day to take care of the normal household needs. My mom making dinner, my dad taking care of the lawn, etc. Without siblings, and with severe upper respiratory allergies, I was either playing gentle games in the car port or reading. I wasn’t as active a child as most of my time was spent trying not to sneeze, cough, get sinus and/or ear infections during the year while trying to get the right allergy prescription that helped my body allow me to, you know, be an actual normal kid. This meant that while fitness wasn’t ignored, it wasn’t a high priority in our home. They were mostly focused on keeping me breathing normally and from getting constantly sick.

As much as I loved my grandmother, she often focused on the weight of me and my cousins. She would pinch our wrists and our sides. Now, keep in mind, a full-grown woman who weighs 115 lbs will still have skin gather if it is pinched. My grandmother would do this to my cousins and me and skin would gather, and she would say we were getting fat. The earliest I remember her doing this to us, I was 5 years old.

You heard me. 5 years old.

For the rest of our lives, my cousin Car Guy*, Star*, and I would battle a lifelong issue of individually varying levels of body dysmorphia. Car Guy and Star participated in sports, but Star would fluctuate in weight (while still always thin) and it took all of us many years to move past it and just live our lives. I look back on childhood pictures, and while I had a rounder face than my family, I was definitely not a fat kid. Neither were they.

But, we thought we were, and that’s what we were told, every time we visited her.

In third grade, there was a classmate, I don’t remember his name, but would greet me every day as I entered the classroom with, “Get out of here, you fat cow. Everyone hates you, you stupid, fat cow.” Standing there, in the doorway as I’ve entered the classroom. My coat and backpack still on. Every single school day of my entire third grade year. This didn’t help my self-image at all. I was also being bullied emotionally and physically by several other students, so needless to say, elementary school sucked. It was literally a couple of decades later, and after being married to a special education teacher named Pilot-hindsight is 20/20 after all-that I remembered all of the work the teacher was forced to do with that student, how much he hurt others’ feelings. He had behavioral issues and only lasted 1 year at that school. Again, it took a couple of decades to realize it wasn’t me or my body he had an issue with, he was constantly calling everyone in the classroom something horrible. However, when you’re 7 years old, you don’t always understand these things happening around you. The horrible thing he happened to tie with my identity just happened to be weight-related. He didn’t realize how much more those comments affected me over something else he could’ve said.

As a teenager, I did gain weight, and my mom was so obsessed with clothes shopping–again, never wanting me to “be without” and it was out of love–that as I got bigger, it wasn’t a big deal. I’d just get the next size up and have more clothes. I never participated in school athletics, though I wanted to do volleyball and track. My parents were concerned that my grades would slip, so when I asked, I was told “no”. While I wasn’t a poor student, but I wasn’t great. I am a strictly B-average gal. I managed to score straight-A’s my last semester of high school and the first quarter of college, but those were the only times in my life that occurred. I was that stereotypical quiet, reading, anti-social, book nerd, but I wasn’t as smart as my friends. To be fair, I went to highly strict, private, high academic performance-based, college-bound schools, so my idea of “not as smart as my friends” might still be relatively skewed compared to an average Washington State school.

I digress.

As you can see, a compounded lifestyle pattern emerges. I’m already thinking I’m fat (even though in childhood, I wasn’t), thinking my body type will never change, my life had no physical activity, and athletics was not prioritized in my home. It was normal that I was “the fat kid” and I had accepted that I always would be. That was my role. I hated it, but I had accepted it.

Breakfast was never important to me. By high school, I drank coffee in the morning, no food until lunch. I got used to not eating in the mornings. Personally, I only started eating breakfast routinely in the morning about 1 year ago, and I’m now in my mid-30’s. My point was, I had already gotten into the habit of skipping meals.

When I got to college, as I’ve mentioned before, there was someone I loved and cared deeply about. We had been (what I thought of as) best friends since middle school, through high school, and both got into Central Washington University together and lived in the same freshman dorm. His mom had gotten sick during our junior/senior years of high school and went through a horrible ordeal. When we got to freshman year of college, he was away from home for the first time and was also grieving and processing everything that had happened to his mom and his family the last two years. He went from being the person I’d known and loved into a hard-partying guy. He quickly stopped talking to me and cut me out of his life, and I was completely heartbroken, confused, hurt, and depressed. When he tried to talk to me later, it was too much and I cut him out of my own life. It was too painful to relive all of those memories.

Now, by the time I reached my first year of college, I was obese. Weighing in around 178 lbs (yes, a real adult woman has shared her actual weight with you), I was unhealthy, large, and still not active. Navigating being away from home for the first time myself, not having developed great social skills, and now in a deep depression, I eventually stopped sleeping.

multi people

I also stopped eating… almost completely.

My days’ worth of food consumed ended up going from 2 meals a day reduced to ultimately: 1 water bottle and 2 soda crackers a day. That’s it. Well, for those who purposely starve themselves, you already know that you drop water weight, and your body starts pulling from the fat as energy. Because you’re literally starving yourself.

I dropped 30 lbs in 3 months.

I went from a size Extra Large down to a tight-fitting Medium. I hadn’t been Medium-sized since I was 11 years old. To be fair, now being at college, I was walking/bicycling everywhere instead of driving. (Ellensburg is a small town.) But, I was still not eating anything.

Now, here’s the kicker: With everyone who knew me growing up and in college, the response I got was incredibly positive. When I visited home, I was constantly greeted by my friends and family with:

“Oh my gosh! You look amazing! Whatever you’re doing, keep it up!”

“You’ve lost so much weight, you’re looking great!

My friend, Glamazon* greeted me with, “Holy cow! You shrank!”

Always followed up with the next question:

“How did you do it?”

I answered as any young woman who is being told that her body looks “the best it’s ever been” while dealing with severe depression and an eating disorder would.

I lied.

I told everyone it was because I was “eating better” and exercising. The truth was, I wasn’t consuming any food, barely staying hydrated, sleeping less than 3 hours per night, and in a clinically depressed state. I forced myself into focusing on my academics and no socializing (hence the straight-A’s my first quarter, but I wasn’t living a good life).

How did I stop? While I would love to credit my darling husband, Pilot, as while I was mourning an officially non-romantic, long-term relationship, I was getting to know Pilot who also lived in the same dorm. He, and the help with the few new friends I had made, helped me remember that I was still a human being trying to be a good and nice person every day. That my self-worth wasn’t tied to my body and appearance, but my personality. Some people have body dysmorphia to the point where they need additional help, and that’s good.

A separate note: Do whatever you need to do to remind yourself that you are valued, you are loved, and the only person whose opinion matters about your health is your own. Screw everyone else. Mental illness should not be stigmatized, it is always good and important to ask for help if you need it. You are not alone.

After being rejected by someone I had loved for several years, I was reminded that I was still a funny, smart, generous, and movie-loving person. After a couple more months, I started eating again. I ended up hurting myself because I took advantage of that knowledge. By now, I was in a steady relationship with Pilot, had made peace with my life without the boy/man from my past, and was focusing on graduating from Central’s Communications program.

I took that knowledge for what it was, that it didn’t matter what size I was, because Pilot will always love me for me. And he will, and he does. That didn’t change the fact that I was ignoring a responsibility to myself to be healthy. I would never encourage someone to stop eating as a method to lose weight, in 100% transparency, I went back to old eating habits. While I often cooked my own food for dinner, and tried to eat healthy for lunch, I was still not exercising, and eating portions far larger than necessary for any human being. My sophomore and junior year of college, I gained all of the weight back… and more. I skyrocketed to 193 lbs.

Pilot was always an active kid. His brother and sister participated in sports. While Pilot never did sports, he was in marching band every single year, playing the drums. Miles of walking while also getting an arm exercise in, and he was active at home. When I realized my weight was out of control again, we started working out together.

I worked out 2 hours per day, every day, and never saw a single pound melt off. I couldn’t figure it out. After 2 years of working out consistently, nothing happened. I didn’t gain weight, but I wasn’t losing it either. When I graduated, I gave up on working out. Continued eating majorly over-portioned food 2 meals a day. After several years of me being large and Pilot and I still being in love with each other, even long distance, I realized he truly loved me as a person. Not as a “trophy wife” not as “a good looking woman” who happened to like him, though he finds me gorgeous and I do too, but loved me for who I was. Scars, bad temper, and all.

Ladies, I will always be the first person to tell you that your value is not in your appearance.

Again, Ladies: your value is not in your appearance.

As much as society would like to convince you otherwise, it is not. If you like to wear makeup, do your hair, dress stylishly every day — as long as you’re doing it for yourself and no one else — DO IT. Don’t let society, men, other women, or anyone else dictate to how you wish to be appearance-wise.

That being said, there needs to be a balance between being healthy and having confidence in one’s self versus your body image being what defines you as a human being. Health is 100% important. Without it, your shorten and/or ruin the quality of your own life. I have a massive stubborn streak. I got so caught up in the newfound confidence, I once again ignored my own health. I ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and stopped exercising.

I ballooned.

A few blog posts ago, I talked about the death of my Dad, my Mom’s severe orthopaedic injury, and the next bout of severe depression I suffered. While I deal with my depression and anxiety every day, this was an especially difficult time in my life. I was also working at desk jobs with a staff that didn’t care about me. At my heaviest, I unashamed, but badly peaked at 285 lbs, and hit my limit when I was encroaching a size 20 in women’s clothing. This was about 4.5-5 years ago.

Our parents are aging. As of this year, every single parent on both Pilot and my side of the family, extended elder relatives, etc. will all be 70 years old or older. Many of them are not in great physical shape and weren’t for most of their adult lives. Pilot and I don’t want fat and inactivity to be a factor of poor health for the majority of our adult lives. We want to know we’ve done everything we can to keep ourselves healthy and in decent physical shape so we have as many years together as possible for ourselves and each other.

food

I convinced myself that this time… THIS TIME, I’d do it right. I didn’t join a “diet,” I didn’t do a “miracle pill,” I didn’t agree to this new thing called “red light therapy.” (What the hell is that? I’m sorry, it sounds like a massive scam.) Starting 4.5-5 years ago, I started to exercise again, but didn’t kick myself if I neglected to do it every day. Guilt is a horrible spiral that backfires in your fight to be healthy. I don’t go more than 2 days without some form of major physical activity. I eat the best natural/nutritious food that I can afford or prepare for every meal, even if it’s store bought microwave meals, but I’m not “dieting.” If I eat badly, I don’t eat badly for more than 2 days in a row, and then balance it out with the remainder of the week with healthy-portioned healthy food, sometimes only veggie-based foods. (I’m still an omnivore.)

I don’t like the term “diet.” Diet implies “temporary.” A temporary solution for a life-long result. Does that make sense to you? Not to me. I was looking for lifetime change. A lifestyle change.

It started out with small changes like parking further away from entrances and walking across the parking lot more. I got dogs, which require me to walk them 3-4 times a day for at least 10-15 minutes each time. I drank waaay more water, stopped purchasing soda except for social occasions, limited alcohol intake to social occasions and 1 glass of wine twice a month maximum. Pilot is a candy FIEND. If there’s candy, sugar, or ice cream in the house, he will eat ALL OF IT. We stopped buying ice cream for the most part, or buy non-favorite flavors so it’s less tempting to eat it after dinner. If he gets candy, it’s in the mini-size so he can better track how much of it he’s eating. We eat breakfast so we don’t splurge at lunch and are less hungry for dinner. We eat 4 smaller meals per day. If we have a snack, it’s pre-portioned so we don’t mindless-eat snack or we can physically track how many small portions we’ve eaten. Since we both get up incredibly early for work, it’s hard to only eat 3 meals a day. I try to make sure a vegetable or fruit is a part of every dinner and/or lunch. I cut out caffeine. I’m sleeping more — averaging about 5 hours per night. I think I’m just one of those people who doesn’t need a lot of sleep in general.

In the short-term, I trained for my first 5K two years ago and finished it in under 1 hour. That was a major accomplishment for me, as I had never run on purpose before that training. (Sorry former PE teachers. I still hate running.) I do run/walk with Pilot in the evenings, but there is nothing you can say or do to convince me running is fun. I do it because it’s good for me, but I am hating my life every second I’m doing it.

In more of the long-term changes, Pilot and I agreed to start taking evening walks together while the weather was good to do so. We got up to 2-mile walk/jogs by the end of this summer.  While people think of my nerdiness as tenfold when I tell people I still actively play PokemonGo**, I am proud of it because it keeps me walking. Pushing that walk a little bit further to hit that Pokestop or catch an elusive Pokemon. I got Pilot to start playing it with me and we incorporated the game into our daily lives, separate from our evening walks. (Go Team Valor!) On bad weather days, or to catch up with my friends, we typically meet up at the mall. Not to shop (at least for me), but to walk the premises out of the rain. (Washington State malls are huge.) It’s a great aerobic and cardio workout, and has a food court if we need water.

I still enjoy the occasional sweet, I enjoy big meals, but it’s not every day, often not several times per week. Those are made special occasions such as my weekly dinner with my mom, a visit with Pilot’s parents a couple of times per month, or a special night out with Pilot. We eat a real, regular meal before going to the movie theater so we don’t eat at the theater itself. We go to the movie theater far less frequently. (That’s been good to our wallets too). We shop at Grocery Outlet** and have a more routine set of recipes that we eat. While I haven’t gotten out of my habit of cooking for an army, the recipes are healthier and we eat them several days in a row and make them last. Pilot and I are realistic about our lifestyle. We’re super-busy people working full-time jobs and each have our own businesses to run. We keep breakfast (if we eat it) and lunch simple, while dinner is more involved nutritionally. We hold each other accountable, not afraid to bust each other’s chops about additional snacking or sweets. (While we never hurt each other emotionally, nor sling mud at each other, neither of us is afraid of a little “good old fashioned ribbing.” We have weird senses of humor.)

The weight loss has been slow. Painstakingly slow. Snail’s pace slow.

The difference?

swirly shrink

I’m losing the weight in a healthy way, and KEEPING IT OFF.

No yo-yo-ing, self-inflicted starvation, no losing weight only to gain it back and double it. I’ve found when you lose a lot of weight quickly, it’s super hard to keep it off. Again, strict dieting and exercise works, but unless you’ve changed your life to make it a daily automatic part of how you live, it’s a temporary solution for a lifetime result.

In 4.5-5 years, I’ve lost on an average of 62 lbs of fat. I’ll let that sink in a moment.

SIXTY-TWO POUNDS OF FAT.

Back to why I’m not wearing my wedding rings: I lost enough fat that my rings were falling off of my fingers. I was literally typing yesterday at work, and heard this “clacking” noise. I looked down and realized my wedding band and engagement ring (not fused together) were loose enough to hit each other while I typed, and the rings were slipping off of my fingers. I don’t want to lose my rings or get new ones. (By the way, the rings depicted are not our actual rings. Sorry for the misleading headline, but this is where it all ties together. See?)

I had to take my rings in to Shane Company** last night to have them resized smaller. My ring size went down to a 9. I haven’t been a standard ring size… ever. (I don’t wear much jewelry, so I don’t know at what point in my life I stopped being a standard ring size for women.) I realized I could go to any apparel/accessory store and pick a size 9 ring off of the rack and wear it. I’ve never been able to do that before. I’m so proud of this, and it’s an accomplishment to me.

I still have a long way to go, but I’m ready for the challenge because I’m finally approaching it the right way. The safe way. The right way. Eating right, exercising every day (if I can) in different ways, eating less fat/sugar/salt, and burning more calories than I eat. Life isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon (even though I still hate running). I don’t go by WEIGHT. I go with how my body feels and how my clothes fit. I have upper body strength where there was none for most of my life, and I’ve gained and toned a LOT of muscle, all from weight lifting and training. Weight lifting will not move the needle on the scale much. However, my pants have been falling off of my ass, my shirts are sagging on me, and my underwear didn’t fit anymore. I’ve had to buy clothes a smaller size each year around August/September. I’m not winded going up staircases anymore. I don’t have to wonder if I’ll fit in certain chairs, or trying to get past someone taking up space in a hallway. I don’t have to worry if a plastic chair will creak and groan with strain under me. I don’t have to worry about as much space I will take up in the movie theater or in the car.

I RUN.
NEVER did THAT before until 2 years ago. EVER.
(I still hate running.)

THAT IS SUCCESS FOR ME.  Weight fluctuates, sometimes hit plateaus. I still get strange looks from people when I talk about healthy eating and exercising methods because they only see me for my size right now, and see an elephant. They don’t see the lifelong journey I’ve been on and how much fat I’ve already lost. But I’ve gone from a size 20 down to, as of 2 weeks ago when I needed to buy new pants, a tight-fitting size 14. At losing 62 lbs of fat, you would think I’d be far smaller. I’m not. But, I’ve gained a lot of muscle and I haven’t been a size 14 since I was a teenager. I am now in my mid-30’s. Think about that. I weigh less from fat loss, but clothing-wise I haven’t gone down much on the clothing scale.  Again, it’s not about size ladies, it’s about how tall you are, your ethnicity, if you’re prone to certain conditions or diseases, it’s about your fitness and health. Not the size of the fit.

I am not skinny. There is a huge misconception that all Asian women are stick figured, waif-ish, short women. I am definitely a thick-thighed, big calved, curvy gal, and even if I was at a healthy weight, I will never be stick-figured boy-shaped. Many women of Korean descent still living in South Korea often get plastic surgery. It’s true. It’s not even called plastic surgery, they’re called beauty treatments. This includes calf muscle reduction (didn’t I mention I have huge calves? They’re super toned and big-muscled, not fat. Just huge) and eyelid shaping turning a monolid to a creased one like women of European descent. Many women of Asian descent are “skinny” or in healthy weight categories, but suffer from diabetes types I and II. It’s a DNA thing. Here’s a few articles to help with understanding:

Side Note: You need to eat nutritionally healthy and exercise the right way for your body. Everyone’s body is different and requires different nutrition either due to ethnicity, disease, health conditions, outdoor environment, etc. Do what’s right for your body. For example: I am lactose sensitive and other health conditions.

Someone once said to me, or maybe I read it in an article — I’m sorry, I don’t remember, I think it was Nerd Fitness**? — but they said “Health is 100% nutrition. Fitness is 100% exercise.” They’re not the same thing. You can have someone who only eats organic, plant-based, vegan lifestyles, but if they’re not exercising, they’re body isn’t physically fit and can still have health problems because you’re not taking care of your body.

The nutrition and health is there with how Pilot and I are now choosing to eat, but the fitness part is still in development. The plus side (no pun intended) is we’re already doing more fitness-wise than we were years ago, and continue to build upon what we’ve already established as a daily part of our lives. I am not skinny, I’m not sure if I ever will be “skinny.”

As the great Queen Latifah once said, “What size am I? I’m a size healthier.” That’s good enough for me.

Am I healthy? I’m far healthier than I’ve ever been. I can do push ups, I can run, I can run up stairs, I can walk/run farther in one go than I ever could, my food is more nutritious, I make better choices eating when I’m dining out, My husband and I are partners in this long-term health journey, I’m still flexible, I challenge myself. I may not be 100% healthy and physically fit–yet–but I’m much, much happier. I’m much, much healthier. I’m much more fit than I’ve ever been. Hell, I might even be able to do a pull up for the first time in my life soon, but I need to keep weight training my arms.

While looking at me now, no one would think I was “healthy” because of my size, believe me, but, this is healthier than I was yesterday. This is healthier than I was a week ago. This is healthier than I’ve been in years, perhaps my whole life. I’m doing my best, I’m doing it safe, and I’m doing it right. That’s good enough for me.

I’d love to hear from you. Share your journey or fitness goals!
What has worked for you?
Have you lost a lot of weight recently?

 

*Not this person’s real name. It has been changed to protect their privacy.

**Not a sponsor. I have not been compensated in any way to promote this brand.

Video

‘First Man’ nailed it. (Movie Review)

Hello Precious Readers!

Before I jump in, a quick BOOK UPDATE from me: The outline for my paranormal is underway. I originally was only going to do 2 books, but the characters refuse to stop talking at me. It may end up being a 3-book series. The outline for Book 1 is done, and I’m working on the Book 2 outline. I’m doing things a bit differently this time. I want to have all (however may) books completed and ready for the publishers at the time of submission. This means, if my proposed stories are contracted, they’ll be released on a nice and steady schedule. Faster from me to you! Whatever happens, it’s the story I’m working on, the story I need to be working on, and the story I can’t stop working on. Whether publisher picks it up is yet to be seen, but I cannot stop writing it.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled program. (Spoiler-free portion of review.)

FIRST MAN

 

Overall Rating: A-

Ryan Gosling’s Performance: A+

Claire Foy’s Performance: A+

Effects: A+

Directing Style: B+

PROS: Strong, subtle, restrained performances, excellent effects. The space training, first person point of view, and space stuff is visually stunning, leaving you holding your breath the entire time as you feel the clock ticking down.

CONS: The director’s handheld film style, while helps shape the performances of its A-List star actors and promotes the “sitting in the room with the actors” style of storytelling, is completely unfocused and nauseating in IMAX view. Be prepared for a slow burn, while the movie’s pacing fits the mood, you will leave feeling exhausted.

Overall Impressions: Last night, the hubby Pilot and I went to see First Man, the biographical story of Neil Armstrong. The movie doesn’t tell us much about Neil’s childhood or youth. Instead, it drops you right into the center of the middle of his life. He’s married, a father, and already a part of the government as a test pilot. If you’re waiting for a tear-jerking childhood trauma story, this isn’t it. Instead, the drama is in ordinary daily life experiences that Armstrong had in his personal life in dynamic juxtaposition of having an extraordinary career and skill. (It’s still a tear-jerker, bring the tissues.)

SPOILERS WARNING
(You’ve been warned.)

Now for the spoilers…

Let’s get the ugliness out of the way. It’s a biography, not a documentary. By now, if you’ve heard anything about the move First Man, you may have heard of the controversy revolving around the director completely skipping over the planting of the American flag on the Moon. If you follow me on social media, you already know how I feel about this, but for those who don’t… Come find me on Facebook and Twitter. You’re missing daily fun! Ok, back to the seriousness: This movie is a biography, not a documentary. There are countless film clips showing the planting of the flag on the moon by Armstrong that you can go and watch if you want a recollection of history.

To call this movie un-American, I’m afraid you will have completely missed the point of the movie. Its focus is not about USA’s attempt to be the first to the moon. While that is a major part of the movie, it’s not the focus. The focus is a human-interest story. The question “At what cost do you keep pressing on?” is asked repeatedly throughout the film, paralleling NASA’s Gemini and Apollo missions, and Armstrong’s dealings, or lack of dealings, with loss after loss of loved ones. It’s about the emotional toll of someone who is so specialized in his field, it takes laser focus and dedication, even at the cost of the life of his own making. It’s about the choices to connect with others, or not, and how those breadcrumb decisions lead you to where you presently are as a person.

Life of a pilot. As you can imagine, my husband Pilot and I were carefully watching the film over the actors’ performances. Would they accurately portray the life of a couple where one is constantly putting themselves at a higher risk of danger than your average person? Would they portray aviation accurately and objectively? Would Hollywood overblow and glorify what should be showing the everyday impact an extraordinary career can have on an ordinary family? Pilot was impressed with the accuracy of the time you sit in “Ground School” learning so much math and science you feel like your head will explode. The in-flight calculations conducted as you adjust your fuel rationing. The calm, cool, and collected mind that a pilot needs to have, even in the face of imminent death. He agreed the director did an outstanding job.

Merely opinion, but as Pilot and I have lived our lives, the aviation community is quite small. Pilots tend to fall into two categories: boisterous and friendly, or quiet and reserved–but still friendly. There’s something about the aviation world that I’ve appreciated. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone involved knows how much time, dedication, finances, and hard work that goes into learning how to fly something. That any miscalculation will affect how long or how far you’ll be able to fly, or if you’ll be able to get off the ground. Overseeing your own fate tends to make you cut the bull and recognize what real priorities are, for flying and in life.

Back to the movie…

Ryan Gosling’s performance was exceptional. Again, I am not a die-hard Gosling fangirl, but I appreciate his acting skills. Known for playing the ‘silent type’ he evokes a constantly running tickertape of emotions that flash in his eyes in a matter of a few, brief seconds. Deeply rooted pain, determination, failure, selfishness, and a desperate draw for connection that is severed within the first ten minutes of the movie, you can feel the one-two punch of every blow to Armstrong’s journey to the moon. (Sorry “Goslings” out there, I don’t remember him ever being shirtless in this movie. Personally, I’m grateful. Sucks to be you.)

10Reasons

Loving a Pilot. I have the utmost respect for and pride in my husband. He started flying at the age of 13 years old (before the FAA changed the rules requiring aspiring pilots to be a bit older) and achieved his private pilot’s license at 16 years old. Long-term blog readers know that we are college sweethearts. He was studying Flight Technology at Central Washington University and obtained his instrument rating for his pilot’s license. (For non-aviation people: this means he can fly without any visibility out of the windows, using only the instrument panel.) It almost literally means he can do it blindfolded. The training that comes with an instrument rating makes the student wear gigantic blinders over your face, only allowing him to see the gauges and dials in front of you, and topographical maps to fly. It doesn’t change the fear of being on the ground while a loved one defies gravity for suspended amounts of time. Nor does it quell the fear that the few minutes I see him before he heads out the door might be the last interaction I ever have with him.

It will never change the fact that for each moment my husband is in the air, whether piloting the aircraft himself, or he’s flying with other pilot friends, that a part of my mind and heart will unendingly worry about his safety until I hear he is on the ground.

I am forced to put 100% trust in my husband, his hours of experience in the air or most recent training, his training instructor(s) from over the years agreeing his skills are what they should be, that the weather will cooperate perfectly, and the FAA regulations. I must trust that bird won’t randomly fly into his plane that day. I am forced to trust that for however long he will be in the air, that he will land safely. I am forced to trust that a pine cone that is blown onto the runway will not make a multi-ton metal coffin, with the potential to ignite, to flip, crash, and/or cartwheel on the runway during takeoff or landing.

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Am I being overdramatic? Let me ask you: Does the love of your life hop into a small plane or helicopter, like a bug in the wind, several times a week? Sometimes flying through the mountains, being midair when a patch of fog rolls in, or landing in the middle of a forest with no cell reception? Smaller planes and helicopters don’t have parachutes. There are no computers guiding them. For my husband, it’s just him the yoke, pedals, and a rudder. If he’s riding in a friend’s helicopter, it’s the helicopter pilot, a stick, and pedals. That’s it. Is this considered a part of your daily life?

No?
Then, you don’t know.

You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that flying is safer than driving. I agree with you. I know the statistics as well. Millions of people are in the air right now, miraculously not crashing into each other, going from point A to point B and back. This summer, when Pilot considered going into agricultural aviation, and we had the fortuitous opportunity to talk with the owner of an Ag Pilot business in Quincy, WA. The gentlemen explained with ag flying, it’s not a matter of if you crash, but when you crash. Ag pilots fly within 100 feet of the ground, working hard to avoid phone lines and poles, trees, birds, buildings, etc.

This last August, John Sessions, founder of the Historic Flight Foundation in Everett, WA, was injured in a crash at the Abbotsford, B.C., Canada airshow and due to injuries, doctors were forced to amputate one of his legs below the knee. The airplane had passengers, but thankfully there were no fatalities. My husband knows and has worked for John in the past, and we were relieved to hear that was the extent of his injuries. It won’t stop him from flying. It shouldn’t stop him from flying. But, we need to acknowledge the crash happened. Crashes happen. This wasn’t the first crash to occur during an airshow this last summer. There were two, with Sessions’ crash happening later in summer.

Over the years, he and I have agreed that he not give me fine details about when he takes off for a flight. I only want to know when he’s landed on the ground. He messages me every single time, whether he has a signal or not – so the moment he is within range of cell phone bars, I can see he landed safely. Sometimes it will be the middle of the day and I receive a message from Pilot saying a friend offered to take him up flying that afternoon and he’ll be home late. I’m forced to think back to the morning and hope we had a good one together.

Claire Foy’s performance as the rock of the Armstrong family, heading things at home, and keeping her cool for her children while listening to the radio of Armstrong and Houston’s (NASA command) communications, even when things are going wrong, is the most perfect depiction I’ve seen on screen. She’s not a crybaby, she’s not a drama queen. She knows that it doesn’t help. She is not unemotional, she’s not a robot. She visibly worries, dreads, fears, patiently waits during excruciatingly long periods of time for her pilot to return to the ground and back home. If I could ever meet Foy, I can’t wait to thank her for portraying a steadfast strength and equal vulnerability in the same moment that comes when something has gone wrong and you’re merely a bystander.

A pilot needs to be able to go into a flight with a clear head, whether to fly for pleasure, work, the military, or in Armstrong’s case, space exploration. Pilots need to know home is a calm, settled, undisturbed bubble, and taken care of by those left behind on the ground, so they can focus on their flying. Sometimes it’s easy to be this rock. Sometimes it’s not. Pilot is not a toxic male. He does not ignore or bulldoze over my feelings or emotions. He respects my opinion and often, if not always, seeks it. We decide things together versus him “taking my opinion under consideration,” or vice versa. We talk about anything and everything. We laugh about almost everything. We joke, we fight, we support.

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Pilot and I had a long talk after the movie. We agreed the director and actors portrayed the pride, joy, elation, accomplishment, concern, strain, and the tiny sprout of fear of death that connects two people over the gravity-defying drive and skillset one has that can impact a couple at home. Watching the connection between Ryan Gosling and Claire Foy grow, stretch, strain, and watching how they moved with or around each other, how they discussed, blatantly ignored, or fought about their emotions that surround an aviation-based household… well, it hit a bit too close to home. Granted, we are the ant-sized micro to their macrocosm, but this movie was starting to feel a bit too much like transcription from our own lives.

There was an evening about five years ago. Pilot and a friend decided to go fly up in Northern Washington. There was no greater sound than when my heart fell out of my chest, and I received a phone call. Before I even said anything, the words, “We needed to make an emergency landing,” came through the receiver. It was immediately followed with “Everyone is okay,” but the infinitesimal seconds between those statements I felt a piece of my soul die. A thick fog had rolled in, and they decided to land in an empty, abandoned field with no lights or street signs around to give me an idea of where they were. I spent the next few hours with a friend of mine back and forth in the same area trying to figure out where they had landed. After about three hours, I found them, we all went to dinner, and when the weather cleared again, they both went back to their starting airport. (Pilot still had to pick up his own car.)

Again, I ask you: Do you feel that I’m being overdramatic? Does the love of your life hop into a small plane or helicopter, like a bug in the wind, several times a week? No? Then, you don’t understand the feelings involved.

Practical Effects. The effects used for the space scenes, are without question, some of the most stunning depictions of outer space I’ve seen as of late. The effects used for the training of the pilots/astronauts, and when the actors were inside of each vessel, made each person feel as isolated, claustrophobic, and tripled the intensity. Pilot had mentioned to me that this director prefers minimal CGI. The horrifying and engulfing sounds of metal stretching and yawing, scraping, skittering all around the tight confines of each manned vessel will scare the pants off you more than any horror movie ever will. Probably because it realistically sounds like the last noise you ever hear. I was blown away by the effects, and always prefer practical effects over computer generated.

Length of movie. You’ll feel it all. One thing I will give this movie, is the time spent on experiencing the above-mentioned effects. However, that doesn’t help the slow pacing of the movie. Though it is worth every minute, you will feel every minute of this movie. Be prepared to feel tired, and a little melancholy after this one.

Filming style: Bring out the in-flight vomit bags! We paid money to see this movie in IMAX. Personally, I wouldn’t have, but for Pilot, this was important we do this. The director used a handheld camera style, along with the texture of the film being in a vintage style appropriate for the 1960’s. What does this mean? A lot of bouncing and shaking, along with a lot of fuzziness on the outer parts of the screen. The outer space scenes were filmed statically so the shaky experience isn’t present during the space-y stuff. While unsure if the cost is worth the few minutes of outer space scenery sprinkled throughout the film, die-hard space exploration fans will get a visual treat in crystal clear IMAX format.

Final thoughts. Powerful and restrained acting, a not-so-steady-hand style of film, and the emotional pull and toll life has over a regular person with an anything-but-normal day job will leave you holding your breath until the last minute. Letting go of that single breath in the same way our characters do at the end. If you’re a science/NASA/space exploration nerd, it’s up to you if IMAX is worth it for you. For a “normal” like me, maybe see it on a regular screen and save yourself a few bucks. If Gosling and Foy don’t at least receive Oscar nods, I’ll be highly disappointed in the Academy (even though we all know awards ceremonies are complete shams).

“To most people, the sky is the limit. To those who love aviation, the sky is home.”

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Available now for FREE: Demo Release for “Amelia Darnell: Secrets of Silvercrest Village” 2-D point-and-click PC video game by Airtight Alibi Productions, LLC!

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Airtight Alibi Productions, LLC is PROUD to present the FREE digital download of our first game, Amelia Darnell: Secrets of Silvercrest VillageIt’s finally here! Our campaign and demo are live! Please try it out, spread the word, and enjoy about our awesome project! Thank you guys for all your support!

Amelia Darnell: Secrets of Silvercrest Village will be a 2-D point-and-click mystery game for PC. We wish to create a mystery adventure game that offers a meaningful and engaging experience for our players. While also promoting a strong female character in a traditionally male-dominated role, the Amelia Darnell game will further improve the development of critical thinking skills, comprehension, and problem-solving. We intend it to be for a family audience of ages 10+.

 

 #Gamer #Gaming #PCGame #VideoGame #Mystery

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NaNoWriMo 2018: It’s the most type-able time of the year

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Mark your calendars and get ready to don your favorite Viking helmet, Precious Readers! NaNoWriMo is on its way!

What is NaNoWriMo? It’s short for “National Novel Writing Month“! That’s right, you write an entire novel in 30 days!

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What does this mean? I’m going to participate! Well folks, this summer was lacking in motivation to write. I’m determined to make up for it by working on my next book. That’s right. Even after August 2018’s post mentioning that I wasn’t sure what my next book was going to be, inspiration–that fickle mistress muse that it is–struck my brain. I’ve been diligently working on an outline for 2+ books on a new series.

You’re not writing Roxy Summers #4? When will we see it? I’m taking a break from writing Roxy Summers. My latest book, Missing You, a Roxy Summers Mystery #3, wraps up major plot points in the series, though it’s been left open-ended for more to be written at a later time. I haven’t abandoned my beloved Roxy, more books will be written, but my brain is telling me to branch into a new genre. I can’t help when inspiration strikes, and I’m being pulled into a different direction for the time being. I have a paranormal that my fingers have been itchy to type, and I’ve already written several pages of notes of how I would want this series to go. These new-ish characters are screaming at me and are not leaving me alone. Look on the brighter side: it means new characters for you to meet and love, new adventures to sink your teeth into, and plot lines punched up with classic KB snarky humor coming at you!

Hold the phone, you’re going to be writing an entire novel in one month? Short answer: Yup, that’s right! Long answer: This will be a not-ready-to-publish first draft. Imagine the roughest and most typo-filled manuscript you will ever (not) see in your life. It won’t be perfect, it won’t be pretty, and it definitely will not be reader-worthy by the time November 30th rolls around. However, the basic outline and major details will be worked out. My goal is to complete my outline of the character’s story arcs for (however many) books it takes to complete their story by October 31, and then have 50,000 words written by November 30 for the first book.

Isn’t that a bit ambitious? Yes, yes it is. I am the kind of person where if I don’t have any kind of structure about a task or work, I will not do it. I’m self-disciplined enough where if I have a schedule I’ll stick to it, but if there is no plan in place, I get lazy. NaNoWriMo each November helps keep me motivated. Plus, there are some wicked fun chat rooms where you can connect with other writers in your local area who are going through this event with you. It’s a lot of fun, a lot of support, and helpful to keep me motivated on my next project(s).

What is the new book series? I’m working on Top Secret-Super-Secret-Squirrel-Hush-Hush project to bring a paranormal series to you. I hope it’s something you’ll be interested in. (Before you roll your eyes, although I love me some vamps, this is not a vampire novel.) Growing up, my top favorite type of book to read was science fiction. Although this will be a paranormal, the idea of abnormal characters and situations (sometimes otherworldly) make my little book-loving heart go pitter patter. Although I’m not ready to share details yet, I hope it will be a magical experience for you. (For longtime blog followers, you might already have an idea of what I’m working on.) I actually created these characters years and years ago, but decided to push Roxy Summers as my first book towards publication. My gut instinct won out, and now I have three books published. I’m hoping that you, as a blog and book reader, will continue along this publication journey with me and stick around while I venture into a quasi-new territory of genre writing.

Do you participate? If you are a NaNoWriMo participant, LOOK ME UP! I’m serious! If you’re participating, don’t be afraid to connect with me on their website! I’ll be wearing my virtual NaNoWriMo viking helmet proudly!

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Hope you have an awesome week, and remember, you can always keep more up-to-date with me by following me on social media!

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Wishing you a happy fall filled with warm beverages, snuggly blankets, and your favorite authors!

-KB

#NaNoWriMo #AmWriting #Paranormal #RoxySummers #RoxySummersMystery #Fall #November #30Days


Haven’t read the Roxy Summers Mystery SeriesStart with Capture Me and meet Roxy in a case of cat-and-mouse for a grand Seattle adventure! Then, travel with Roxy to sunny Los Angeles for a food competition to die for in her sequel novel, Crush On You! Roxy’s third book, Missing You has Roxy and friends searching of her ex-boyfriend, lost in a blizzard-riddled Alaska, hoping to find him before time runs out.

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Memento Mori

This is a blog by Patricia Johns. She’s a fantastic romance author, one of whom has my highest respect. I wholeheartedly agree with her blog post, and whether you are a believer in religion or not, *I* believe we should do our best to leave the world in a better condition than when we started it, whether that is at the cost of our own happiness or not.

I don’t like to post about religion too much on my page, as politically I’m an Independent and have some left-ist views on several points, plus I like to keep this space open for all readers and would never want to alienate someone based on their non/religious or political views. But I am a non-denominational Christian, and am unashamed to admit it.

One area Patricia points out is that at the end of the day, it isn’t what makes you happy, but what is right. It should also be said, that I don’t believe in a “soul points system”. It’s not how many good deeds one completes, it’s the heart and intention of your good deed, and I believe that Patricia is someone who implied this as part of her original blog post (but I’d have to officially ask her). It’s the intention of knowing you need to be doing the right thing when temptation is mild or the strongest it’s ever been. Helping someone because you want to do your best to make *them* feel a little bit better when the world is getting them down, because you know life is tough and can be harsh.

I hope you enjoy her post, it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s thoughtful.

Happy Monday, Precious Readers!

– KB

Patricia Johns

On Twitter, I follow a Catholic nun who has a skull on her desk. She keeps it there year round in a practice called Memento Mori, or the Medieval Latin Christian tradition of reflecting on your own mortality. This sister tweets daily about living her life as if each day could be her last.

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It might seem a little morbid, but she caught my attention and I continued to follow her because she intrigues me.

We often think about how life seems to fly by when we look back on it, but we don’t like to think about how fast it’s moving in the other direction. It’s… unsettling. No one likes to think about dying. However, I do want to live a life of no regrets. When my time does come, I don’t want to look back and realize I missed the point of it all.

Often, we’ll see quotes…

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A Change of Pace/Next Book

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This blog post is in memory of my Dad.
I miss you every day.

Hello Precious Readers!

Long time, no write, I know. In fact, that statement is far more loaded than it appears.

I released my third book, Missing You (a Roxy Summers Mystery) last month. (Have you read it? I happen to know that it’s fantastic. You should check it out, and leave a review!) I am already receiving questions: When is the next book coming out?

As I’ve learned from other author friends and mentors, this is a common question asked, typically the same day as a book releases. Similar to people asking newlyweds, or sometimes immediately following a wedding ceremony, when the lovely couple is having children. These questions are often asked in moments of excitement from the requestor, not necessarily meant as a slight upon the subject being asked. However, writing is time taking out of my day to literally sit and stare at a computer monitor while typing for hours, every day. It’s time not spent with my husband, my dogs, my friends, my family. It’s time separate from my full-time and part-time jobs. It’s time spent not sleeping, doing chores around the home, and overall taking away from the sliver of time trying to have a life outside of work.

This summer was a particularly awkward and painful one for me, and admittedly and unabashedly, I confess I did absolutely zero writing. None. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Other than social media, my computer was only used for paying bills and looking at funny YouTube videos.

Why? Why after working so hard to be published for the first time, and successfully launching a 3-book series, would I spend 2.5 months writing absolutely nothing at all? As we all know, life throws curve balls, and sometimes their emotional impact lasts longer than expected.

After nearly 11 years since my Dad’s passing, and 11 years spent on our family’s attempted healing, it was decided that this was the year my Dad’s ashes were to be interned into the Tahoma National Cemetery. For those who don’t know, Tahoma National Cemetery is specifically for those who have served in the U.S. military and their spouses. I won’t go into detail, but it was a small ceremony with traditions held by the U.S. Navy. My Dad served for the Navy during the Vietnam war, living on the U.S.S. Enterprise. (No, not a Star Trek reference… this time.) He was on the aircraft carrier during its initial combat deployment. He worked the night shift, complete with a schedule starting at 2:00 am, and a bedtime of 7:00 pm. He never changed this schedule for the rest of his life, save for family vacations. That discipline stayed with him from when he was 17 years old until he was 60 years old. That is, (let me get my calculator here), 43 years of tradition.

My Dad passed in a sudden, painful way, while at home, the day after Thanksgiving. It was supposed to be a year of celebration. My parents had celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary that year. I had just come home from CWU and was starting my first job post-graduation. My parents were approaching discussions of retirement and considering moving to Nevada where it was warmer. They had even flown down twice that year to scope out property. I was planning on looking for an apartment.

It had been a normal evening. We were all home from work, had eaten dinner together. My Dad was on his way to bed. My mom and I were up watching some lighthearted show on TV. My mom and I were with him. We didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, we didn’t know it was coming, and before we knew it, he was gone. My mother and I were immediately thrust into deciding how to live the rest of our lives without him. Our last moments together as a family were spent in terror, pain, confusion, trauma, and anger. While I would never, under any circumstances wish anyone ill or a long and a painful death, I envy families who had times to not only internally say goodbye to their loved ones, but know when the end was coming. They were able to make a plan, and a semblance of peace regarding the one they lost or are losing.

The end is not always a Lifetime movie drama with everyone around a gurney in a hospital, or someone lying on their death-bed. Sometimes the end is something that takes moments away from you. We never got to say, “I love you”, or try to keep him comfortable in death.

We never got to say goodbye. His life ended in pain, fear, and confusion. Surrounded by EMTs instead of his loved ones.

He had not wanted a funeral service, as stated in his will. He wasn’t a man for pomp and circumstance. His co-workers threw a memorial at the University of Washington, where he had just accomplished his 10th year working there. My mom retired three years after his death, after working for the UW for over 28 years. For the rest of us, we moved on, but others needed an official ceremony so we had somewhere for his remains to reside. So, we held one.

I don’t believe in the word “closure” as it’s used today. I don’t believe that the loss of a loved one is something you “close a chapter on” and then live as if their memory has no effect on you every day after they’re gone. The memory is an ever evolving blob. Sometimes it shrinks, sometimes it takes over, sometimes it’s a microscopic dot on your radar. While the ceremony provided much-needed release for my Mom and some of our family, it did the opposite for me.

After eleven years, I’d gotten to the place where my dad’s memory wasn’t gone, but it had morphed into just the good memories. The ones I enjoyed. The memories didn’t stand out from any particular event or milestone in my life. It was the little things, like seeing him smoking outside, leaning on the garbage can in his sweatpants. The way he always folded his hands on his stomach while reclined in his Dad Chair watching an old western. Hearing him whistle while he was working or tinkering at his workshop surface. The clink of ice while he was drinking his Pepsi, the constant, friendly battle between him and my Mom, my Mom being a die-hard Coca Cola fan. His hugs. The horrible, evil glint in his eye while I was sitting in my parent’s new car that had programmable seats (a new thing for any driver at the time). He had pressed the button causing the seat to start moving. I freaked out, wondering if I had broken the car and the robot apocalypse was trapping me inside the vehicle for all of eternity. The never ending trips to Costco as a family outing. Those were all thrown away for the last two months, temporarily vandalized by the gut-wrenching memory of the last hour of his life.

This had a severe impact on my mental status this summer. I’ve talked about depression and anxiety before, but I will continue writing about it until the stigma is gone. That people understand that it doesn’t “go away”, you “can’t snap out of it”, it’s not a “mood”. There are good days, there are bad days. There are long stretches of good days/weeks/months, swiftly hitting you up with time where you never leave bed, the lights are off, and you just lie there for hours. Doing nothing. No TV, no phone, no radio, no talking, etc. You feel weak, tired, achy, listless. The nightmares come back. Whatever quiet I was attempting to obtain was blighted by restless sleep filled with made up scenarios my backstabbing brain came up with to terrorize me in my dreaming subconscious. The dreams mean nothing, but their lingering effects on how they made me feel stick with me for days afterward.

You just… try to exist and hope it’s enough.

You try to remember that you exist.

All of these memories came up and made it difficult to find the mental and physical capacity to write. Writers are always saying, “Write every day. Even when you don’t want to you. Find time to write every day.” They never tell you how much. For me, it was sticking with social media, updating my Facebook Fan Group on its usual schedule, keeping a presence on Twitter. That was all I could do.

That was enough for me.

By the way, the U.S. military is dismantling the U.S.S. Enterprise this year. Did you know that?

Back to the Big Question: When is the next book coming out?

Now that I’ve talked with my publisher at Trifecta Publishing House, here is my answer: After two and a half years of solid writing Roxy, frankly, I need a break. While I have a general idea of how I want the her next story to go, and ideas for several more books, I’m not in the creative head space to continue her story at this time. There are some other ideas I’ve been mulling for years that I’d like to move forward with and get out of Roxy’s world for a little while, and I need to write something else. There is an idea for a fourth Roxy Summers book. The idea is with Trifecta. It is not under contract at the moment. It will be written.

I don’t know when, but in the near future.

Never have I been looking forward to going back to work in my life. As same for the students who attend, I like the structure. The reliability that the building will most likely outlive me. The steadiness of the schedule. Routine. It helps me stay on task. I actually write better when my schedule is full. I think it’s the discipline and the mental reminder that my writing time is limited, that if I don’t complete it now, I’ll have to catch up the next day.

The work is there, I just need to type it. Enough time has passed that I’m ready to metaphorically pick up the pen and put it to paper. (I do better typing than handwriting out my thoughts. I’m far faster, and a more accurate, typist.)

Wishing you a fantastic fall, filled with easily cleaned falling leaves, lots of vibrant tree color, and pumpkin spice only if you want it.

Love and hugs,
KB

*CONTEST CLOSED* PRIZES TO GIVEAWAY TODAY! Missing You Release Day!

EVENT: Missing You Release Party!

WHEN: TODAY, Monday, August 13th @ 6:30pm (PST)

WHERE: ONLINE here – https://www.facebook.com/events/330451244163653/?ti=cl

It’s here! Missing You is here! To celebrate, I’m giving away a bunch of prizes! You might win a free Kindle from Trifecta Publishing House! I look forward to seeing you there! Fun and Prizes to be had! Don’t forget to share the event with your friends. You’ll be able to ask me anything you want.

I have THREE (3) gift baskets* to giveaway! Each will contain:
~ 1 Autographed copy of Capture Me
~ 1 Autographed copy of Crush On You
~ 1 Autographed copy of Missing You
~ 1 jewelry item
~ Exclusive Missing You themed cookies, prepared by pacific northwest-based bakery, Trixie’s Cakes, handmade by Trixie herself!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Check out Katherine Bacher’s Roxy Summers Mystery Series! Available in print and e-book. Roxy Summers is a Seattle Sweetie who can’t seem to stay out of trouble. My books are full of mystery, hilarity, and sass!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Read the whole series:

💕 B1: CAPTURE ME
Nothing ends a first date faster than finding a dead body.
➡️https://books2read.com/u/3nOO29
⭐Amazon Best Seller

💜 B2: CRUSH ON YOU
Someone is stirring up trouble in Roxy’s world.
➡️books2read.com/u/bapznQ

💙 B3: MISSING YOU
When worlds collide, love can leave you cold.
➡️books2read.com/u/bWz0J7

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“Roxy Summers is the kind of woman anyone would want as a friend — spunky, loyal, and courageous!”

~ Jennifer Fischetto, National Bestselling Author
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

*Each gift basket is limited to only one (1) gift basket per winner. Facebook and WordPress is/are not a sponsor of this event or prizes. Please allow up to two (2) weeks for delivery. Winners must be residents of the continental United States of America. Winners are selected randomly. No P.O. boxes, must be a street address for delivery.

#Release #NewRelease #Party #FacebookEvent #Free #Freebies #Prize #Prizes #Contest #Giveaways #MissingYou #CaptureMe #CrushOnYou #RoxySummers #RoxySummersMystery #Mystery #Romance #NewAdult #Humorous #book #books #read #reading #amreading #write #writing #AmWriting #edit #editing #amediting #Amazon #BestSeller