Category Archives: Adventure

Gratitude

Billy Blackwell performing live at Wade's Place, Aug 24-2014

Billy Blackwell performing live at Wade’s Place, Aug 24-2014

Over the weekend we attended a large function where there was a live band. It consisted of five people, three of whom are very dear to me: my ex-husband, Darryl, on guitar, my younger brother Robert on bass, and my stepson, Billy (who is the child of my heart), on drums.

It never ceases to amaze me how much of an influence music has been in the life of my family, over many generations.

This tie binds us and has sometimes cut us apart, but in the end it always brings us back together.

Family is so much thicker than blood.  Gratitude is too.

Robert (Mad Dog) Johnson performing live at Wade's Place, Aug. 24, 2014

Robert (Mad Dog) Johnson performing live at Wade’s Place, Aug. 24, 2014

We are a close unit, bound by love and children.  Music is the common thread that runs through our lives–two horn players, one sax player, two drummers, three guitarists, three keyboardists–four working musicians and everyone else singing harmony–music is the core of our life, and a new generation is learning at their knees.

I loved this weekend.

The air held the peculiar quality of serenity that is unique to Black Lake-the lake of my childhood home.  The crowd loved  the music they played. Children ran wild and the food was fabulous–even the vegan found something delicious to enjoy!

Darryl Riffero performing live at Wade's Place, Aug. 24, 2014

Darryl Riffero performing live at Wade’s Place, Aug. 24, 2014

Seeing these three men, none of them blood related to each other, but all of them family and close as brothers, made me once again realize how much I have to be grateful for. Each has faced and overcome demons that would have killed a lesser man, and they are stronger for it.

Happiness and love of life fill their music, and it is beautiful to me.

My blessings are many, and I count them every day.

 

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SomeWhen Over the Rain Clouds, Lisa M. Peppan interview

KCover-SWOtRCThe Pacific Northwest has been the home of many famous authors, Frank Herbert, Ken Kesey, Ursula K. Le Guin, and J. A. Jance among them.  There is something about the dark and the damp that encourages creativity. We have a huge community of authors, with critique groups and strong support for each other.

Recently one of my friends from Bellingham, Washington, author of historical fiction J. L. Oakley, introduced me to another friend of her’s, fantasy author Lisa M. Peppan. Lisa’s book, SomeWhen Over The Rain Clouds is an intriguing book I am currently reading on my vacation–I can’t put it down!

Here is the BLURB:

SWotRB blurb

Lisa has consented to answer a few questions about her writing process and where her book fits into the genre of fantasy.

CJJ: Tell us a little of your early life and how you began writing:

LMP: Once I got the hang of it, I became a voracious reader.  My favorite still is L. Frank Baum’s Oz books.  It’s his fault, me writing.  I tried my hand at a few short stories but it wasn’t until after reading a poorly written fantasy that I was inspired to write a better story.

CJJ: What are you currently working on?

LMP: While my cover-artist works on a cover for the sequel to “SomeWhen Over the Rain Clouds”, I’m working on a third book.  Might be a fourth, possibly a fifth.  Maybe more.  Same alternate universes and most of the same characters, all bundled together as The Geaehn Chronicles.  The Geaehn Chronicles has a Facebook page.

CJJ: Do you have a specific ‘Creative Process’ that you follow, such as outlining or do you ‘wing it’?

LMP: SomeWhen started life as 98 handwritten pages.  With a rough idea of the kind of people I wanted my characters to be, I ran astrological birth charts for them and compatibility charts for every possible combination of the four.  While mulling over potential plot complications, I wrote detailed biographies for my main characters, drafted maps, and re-read a selection of mythologies, and, well, once I knew my characters and the world I was sending them to, I wound them up and let them go.  So far, this has worked for two and half books.

CJJ: How does your work differ from others of its genre? Why do you write what you do?

LMP: In all the fantasy I’ve read, cab drivers were things that moved protagonists from Point A to Point B.  Three of my four main characters are Seattle cab drivers who recognize that they’ve become involved in a fantasy-novel-type situation; the fourth knows it’s so much more than that.   I drove a taxi cab for 11 years, did a little dispatching, and knew cab drivers were so much more than things (most of them), and wrote the kind of book I’d enjoy reading.

CJJ: I know why I chose the indie route for my work, but I’m curious as to why you’ve chosen this path.

LMP: In the Spring of 1984, on a particularly slow day as a taxi cab driver, SomeWhen Over the Rain Clouds was born.  Over the years, I got many really nice rejection slips.  Then along came a first novel contest on Amazon.  Though I shot myself in the foot for the contest (ask me why and how bad), I was among the 100 best entrants that year.  It also made me aware of that most marvelous purveyor of POD novels, CreateSpace.  When a long-published author friend went Indie, because it appeared to be the direction publishing was going, I took the plunge.

CJJ: What advice would you offer an author trying to decide whether to go indie or take the traditional path?

LMP: Most traditional brick-and-mortar publishers want to see smartly written synopses.  I tried but my best effort (to date) is 23 pages, and Indie doesn’t require one*.  Indie or traditional…?  If you write fantasy that you’ve given a truly fresh spin and you keep getting really nice rejection slips with handwritten notes saying things like, “Great premise” and “Best wishes finding a home for it!!”, go Indie.

*You won’t need the synopsis but you will want a snappy blurb for the back of the book

CJJ: Your experiences with traditional publishing rather closely mirror mine, Lisa!  Thank you for agreeing to be virtually here today, and for the insight into how your creative process works.

Here is a short excerpt of this wonderful book:

excerpt SWotRB

Intrigued?  Lisa’s book is SomeWhen Over The Rain Clouds and can be found at these fine stores — just click on the links:

www.amazon.com

Barnes & Noble

‘Like’ Lisa on Facebook

LMPeppan

Born in Seattle as the eldest of three, Lisa was a curious and adventuresome child who delighted in taking things apart to see just exactly how they worked.  It is a Testament to the Bravery of her parents that they went on to have two more children.

In 1981, after having held a number of jobs in a variety of fields, it was no real surprise to her parents or brothers when Lisa went to work as a cab driver for North End Taxi, a small mom-and-pop cab company in north Seattle.  During the summer of 1984, as a cab driver, after reading what she felt was a poorly written fantasy novel, she said, to no one in particular, “I can do better than that.”

Unplanned early retirement in 1992 gave Lisa time to learn about computers and html coding.  Armed with these new tools, she resumed her family research.  This led to a new hobby–19th century Living History–and from there she caught a glimpse of the scope and diversity of her Aboriginal heritage that spanned North America, north and south of the border.  What her father and his parents worked so very hard to hide, she works diligently to recover so the next generation will know who they are and where they came from; the time for hiding has passed.

When she isn’t reading, writing, researching, or playing in the past, Lisa enjoys quiet moments in the mountains, ferryboat rides on Puget Sound in November, windy days on any beach, hairy chests on men, rare steaks, and purple roses.

Lisa can be contacted at lisapeppan at gmail dot com

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Kicking off the annual PNWA writers conference

300px-DocsavageWell it’s that time of the year again–today is the first day of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association Conference, held in Seattle, Washington. I’m a proud member of PNWA, and find incredible inspiration at these conventions. This year’s keynote speaker is James Rollins, the well-known master of magic, mayhem, and monsters.  According to Wikipedia, the fount of all knowledge,  “Rollins found the authors of the Doc Savage series inspirational as a youth and acquired an extensive collection of the popular 1930′s and 1940′s pulp magazine stories.”

Quite frankly, I too adored Doc Savage, and discovering that another author was influenced by that wonderful, lurid, misogynistic series is quite a treat.  I’m looking forward to hearing him speak tonight.

Another person whose seminar I am looking forward to will be given by Lindsay Schopfer, author of The Beast Hunter. He will be talking on the subject of unlocking character motivation, and I am quite interested in hearing what he has to say on the subject, as he is an accomplished author, and his characters leap off the page.

The Beast Hunter, Lindsay SchopferIt’s one thing to understand the mechanics of writing, the nuts and bolts of how to put together a coherent sentence and join it together with other sentences to make paragraphs. Most writers can do that. It’s quite another thing to write paragraphs that become stories other people will want to read.  Attending writers conferences and seminars gives me insight into how successful authors whom I’ve admired over the years think, and helps me stay fired up about my own work.

I will reconnect with many local northwest authors who I’ve become friends with over the years, and of course I’ll be connecting with agents and editors from all over the country.  This is a huge opportunity for me to absorb the mojo that happens whenever writers gather to talk shop. My next blog post will cover the events and hilarity of this one.

Jake RansomLast year I did learn one important thing–even the Hilton doesn’t have a clue when it comes to providing decent vegan entrees, no matter how the conference organizers claim they will offer them. Rather than starve as I did last year, this year I am commuting from home and bringing my own sack-lunch with plenty of snacks. It’s a bit of a drive, a little over 1 hour each way, but if the dinners provided are less than adequate, I’ll survive.

Today’s lunch will be an avocado, lettuce and tomato sandwich on whole-wheat. ♥  It doesn’t get any better than that!

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Pareidolia

Martian_face_vikingSo I was reading a rather badly crafted novel last night–one that was entirely forgettable other than this one word: pareidolia.  I tried to get my kindle to find the meaning, and it was unable to answer that question too.  But  Wikipedia, the fount of all knowledge, came to the rescue:

Pareidolia (/pærɨˈdliə/ parr-i-doh-lee-ə) is a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant, a form of apophenia. Common examples include seeing images of animals or faces in clouds, the man in the moon or the Moon rabbit, and hearing hidden messages on records when played in reverse.

The word comes from the Greek words para (παρά, “beside, alongside, instead”) in this context meaning something faulty, wrong, instead of; and the noun eidōlon (εἴδωλον “image, form, shape”) the diminutive of eidos. Pareidolia is a type of apophenia, seeing patterns in random data.

Sir Paul McCartney, image from Rolling Stone MagazineHuh. Who knew? Apparently people have been suffering from pareidolia  for thousands of years: seeing patterns in the stars and calling them constellations,  faces and images in clouds, and seeing the face of the Virgin Mary in the patterns on their french toast. They also hear the Beatles implying “Paul is dead” when you play their songs backwards.   The Rorschach inkblot test uses pareidolia in an attempt to gain insight into a person’s mental state.

330px-Francesco_Melzi_-_Portrait_of_Leonardo_-_WGA14795You aren’t crazy–you are extremely creative and able to visualize it pretty clearly. Even Leonardo Da Vinci understood the phenomenon–apparently he wrote of pareidolia as a device for painters, writing “if you look at any walls spotted with various stains or with a mixture of different kinds of stones, if you are about to invent some scene you will be able to see in it a resemblance to various different landscapes adorned with mountains, rivers, rocks, trees, plains, wide valleys, and various groups of hills. You will also be able to see divers combats and figures in quick movement, and strange expressions of faces, and outlandish costumes, and an infinite number of things which you can then reduce into separate and well conceived forms.”

Well, it’s a word I most likely won’t use, but there it is — pareidolia — a new word in my vocabulary.

 

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Analog, I revile thee, or how The Martian redeemed my faith in science fiction

The MArtian Andy WeirI’m a book addict. Each time I crack open a book, whether in hard copy or on my Kindle, I’m hoping to be blown away by the imagery the author presents, hoping for that amazing high that comes from living a true classic. Lately I have been reading wide of my usual slot, not abandoning fantasy, but going back and seeing what I loved the most about the genre that was my first introduction to reading for pleasure. I recently had the experience of being completely and utterly blown away by a science fiction novel, The Martian, by Andy Weir.

It’s one of the best science fiction stories to come out of the last 20 years.  A real adventure story from the get-go, this story of an astronaut inadvertently left behind is gripping from page one. As a main character, Mark Watney is hilarious. He is the sort of man who gets through life by finding something positive in every disaster, and mocking the hell out of everything that is negative.

A horrendous storm destroys much of their base, and his team is forced to abort their mission.  During the emergency evacuation of the Ares 3 landing site, he is severely injured in an accident that appears to have killed him. His body is unretrievable, and unaware that he is still alive, he is left behind. His companions begin the long journey back to Earth, grief-stricken at his sudden death. THIS is an awesome, gripping, and hilarious story.

300px-Astound5006I’ve been a subscriber to a well-known science fiction magazine, Analog,  for many years. I am actually considering letting my subscription lapse, because for the last five years or so I have struggled to find something enjoyable in their magazine.  I no longer enjoy the work they are publishing and they no longer seem to care. While there are occasional nuggets, the majority of work they publish is frequently harsh, lifeless, depressing, and incomprehensible. The fact is, perhaps they have forgotten what real science fiction is about, what the average reader wants. Perhaps I am no longer smart enough for their publication–and I hate paying to be sneered at.

Despite the efforts of the publishing community, the genre of science fiction is not dead. Andy Weir ‘s brilliant work on The Martian proves that there are writers out there with exactly the sort of stories I am looking for.  And guess what–he published it in 2012 AS AN INDIE.  This is a really telling thing, that the watershed books are no longer being put out there by the Big Six, until they have proven their worth in the Indie market. Hugh Howey, A.G.Riddle, Rachel Thompson–INDIES, all of them.

In my sci-fi, I want human frailties, drama, adventure, intense life and survival against great odds, set against a backdrop of understandable and realistic science.

I want a Space Opera.  Andy Weir gave that to me.

It is that high drama that made the Star Trek empire what it is. High drama set in exotic places made George Lucas’s Star Wars series of movies the poster child for space operas. Those two series translated the intensity of feeling that the great authors of science fiction all brought to their work.

Over the years, I have written many short space operas for my own consumption. However, this fall I am embarking on the real test–putting my writing skill where my mouth is.  It just so happens that off and on for the last  3 years, I’ve been outlining a science fiction story.  Originally, I began this project  in preparation for NaNoWriMo 2013, but this will be the year to implement it, so in November this will be my work.

As a devoted fangirl of many well-known physicists, I’ve been doing  research for the last three years, and feel sure my science will hold up, which, in sci-fi, is key to the longevity of a tale. I have great characters, and a really plausible plot. I just have to spend 30 days stream-of-conscious writing to the prompts I have set forth and…well, that is the trick, isn’t it? But even if I fail to write anything worth publishing, I will have had a good time, and that is what this gig is all about: enjoying the ride.

 

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la vie fantastique

Map-pugetsoundMy hubby and I went to Victoria, British Columbia (Canada) over this last weekend. It was a wonderful two days, spent in a town that exists partly to govern the Province of British Columbia, but mostly to help you lighten the burden in your pocket book, and make you beg to let them do it again.  We got up at 3:00 a.m. and left our house at 4:45.

(Gah!)

I am often up at that time of the day, but not intentionally, so it was no surprise to me that I could hardly pry my eyes open. Then we drove up to Seattle, collecting two of his sisters along the way.

It’s amazing how little traffic is on I5 at that time of the morning–perhaps I will do all my traveling at ungodly hours. And parking…OMG, it was heaven.

(Sorry, too much texting the GKs lately. Makes me want to lol out loud. Might write my next book in textspeak.)

Anyway, I had my pick of prime spots in the parking garage, and found one I was easily able to maneuver the old minivan into with no trouble. I hardly gave my poor brother-in-law, Dave, a heart-attack  at all on the way up to Seattle. He  is a sweetheart of a guy but the man is a nervous and verbal passenger.  The trip back–well lets just say he wanted me to take the Alaskan Way Viaduct, and I didn’t want to.

I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that. 

I don’t trust the viaduct. It’s as shaky and narrow as a one-legged ladder.  I’d much rather drive in aimless circles around downtown Seattle hunting for a southbound freeway on-ramp, counting the number of times we pass Nordstrom’s and he doesn’t see the fun in such an exercise. But that’s another post (the one on how our family puts the fun in dysfunctional.)

Catamaran_Victoria_Clipper_IVSo we got on the Victoria Clipper at 7:30 a.m., which is definitely the way to go if you are traveling from Seattle. Victoria Clipper catamarans typically complete a one-way trip in less than 3 hours, in our case, 2 hours and 45 minutes.   To drive there would take 6 hours from our house anyway and we would still have to take a ferry, so why not just leave the car in Seattle and go in style? And we were flying over the water, traveling at 30 knots, which is just a hair over 34.5 miles per hour in landlubber-speak. That’s cruising pretty fast on the inland Salish Sea.

Then we toured the Butchart Gardens. THAT place is most definitely a fairyland.  I can’t even find the words to explain how beautiful it is.  My cellphone photos suck, to use a technical term, so I am using images cadged from WIKIPEDIA to illustrate this:

1200px-Butchart_Sunken_Gardens

 

1200px-Butchart-gardens-002

Needless to say, after a long day of hiking the most gorgeous gardens, and then trundling all over the downtown, spending money like water in Victoria proper, I was SO ready for a lovely meal in what is really a lovely, vegan-friendly city. A long soak in the hotel hot tub, and followed by gin & tonic in the hotel lounge (light on the gin and lots of lime wedges, thank you) and this old lady was ready for bed.  I got on the internet just long enough to check my email.  I wasn’t completely out of writer-mode–I did note my ideas down in my little book while I was on the ferry.

So, while I didn’t get any writing done I had a wonderful time with my in-laws, and that’s paradise, to me.

Victoria_harbour_-_Victoria,_British_Columbia_-_2014

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Lamed in the land of Language

IBM_SelectricMy first draft sits sullenly on my desk, glaring at me with repetitiousness and flatness of prose.  No matter how I grasp for words, a sword remains a sword, remains a sword…since to refer to it as a blade or weapon would require stretching the vocabulary…

…ellipses rise and fall with frequency across my page…boring, jarring frequency…

My characters are Angry!  Not mad, furious, enraged, excited, wrathful, indignant, exasperated, aroused, or inflamed–no–they are merely

‘angry.’

I frequently tell them how awesome they are, because my mind is inelastic, and awesome is all I know. Truthfully, they are amazing, incredible, unbelievable, improbable, fabulous, wonderful, fantastic, astonishing, astounding, AND extraordinary. But my lamed vocabulary shall forever deem them ‘awesome.’

Roget's Thesaurus 1st editionMy thesaurus has been used and abused, and still my lazy (indolent, slothful, idle, inactive, sluggish) mind gropes for words.

Inspiration has played me false. Fake, fraudulent, counterfeit, spurious, untrue, and unfounded? No! ’tis erroneous, deceptive, groundless and fallacious, this twisty beast, Inspiration.

I go quietly into the depths of the Room of Shame, that hall of horror that is my office, where I shall once again attempt to wrangle words in the desert of desperation.

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Maya Angelou April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014

Caged_bird2Today, Maya Angelou died at the age of 86, a true hero to me and to women all over the world. She is best known for her series of seven autobiographies, which tell of her childhood and early adult experiences. The first, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (first published in 1969), tells of her life up to the age of seventeen, and brought her international recognition and acclaim.

From Wikipedia: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings is the 1969 autobiography about the early years of African-American writer and poet Maya Angelou. The first in a seven-volume series, it is a coming-of-age story that illustrates how strength of character and a love of literature can help overcome racism and trauma. The book begins when three-year-old Maya and her older brother are sent to  StampsArkansas, to live with their grandmother and ends when Maya becomes a mother at the age of 16. In the course of Caged Bird, Maya transforms from a victim of racism with an inferiority complex into a self-possessed, dignified young woman capable of responding to prejudice.”

Beyond her struggles with the obvious bigotry and ignorance of the times, she represented to me the most beautiful thing of all–that a girl with very little education, who was blessed with a love of reading, could rise above the place society wanted to put her.

Some things I learned from her: “One isn’t necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can’t be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.”

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”

“We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.”

The world is a better place because of Maya Angelou and what she represented. The literary world is a better place because of what she wrote.  Heaven is a better place, because she is there.

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Cats and the Physical Laws of the Known Universe

ceramic cat and cupI realized the other day that I am a cat-lady. Oh, I don’t own a cat, or even a dog for that matter, but I am still a cat-lady.  I love cats…ceramic cats. I have 3 of them.

They are the perfect companions. Their demeanor is a little aloof, but what do you expect from a cat?  They rarely meow, eat very little, require only an occasional dusting, and never try to hijack my laptop.

I’ve never yet had to clean up a hairball.

That said, there is something lacking in my relationship with these strangely well-behaved creatures.

Alas, I am a lazy woman. The amount of vacuuming a living cat introduces into my life breaks the laws of physics. Let’s do the math–I’m an author so we’ll do it with a story-problem:

Mr. & Mrs. Catpeople  are humans who currently have 0 cats. They are ordinary people, not too messy, and not too tidy. Normally, they only have to vacuum their bungalow once a week. One spring day Mrs. Catpeople  loses her suburban mind and decides to bring home a cat. If she only had to vacuum the house 1 time a week when two humans resided in her home, how many times will she vacuum with the addition of a cat?

Cat on MozartOkay… 2 people + 1 cat = 3 creatures.  so, if she cleans once a week when there are 2 creatures in the house, with the addition of a third creature, and assuming you can’t half-vacuum (although you can vacuum half-assed), it should mean she has to vacuum twice. But the fur on the sofa appears every day as if by magic, increasing exponentially with the arrival of guests, which requires her to vacuum morning and evening…. so that = 14 times a week that Mrs. Catpeople must haul out the Hoover.

See? I’ve done the math and it doesn’t add up. Of course, I failed traditional math classes regularly, but according to my calculations,  Mrs. C will be up to her eyeballs in cat fluff inside of two weeks, because no normal human being can keep up with that amount of flying  fur.

The only reasonable conclusion one can come to is that cats clearly do not obey the same rules of physics as humans do. After all, when it stands on your chest at 3:25 a.m., does your 7 lb cat not gain 25 lbs?

And when they see an invisible object of their desire at the top of the new drapes, are they not able to travel faster than the speed of light?

These are proof to me that cats are like subatomic particles.  They are here and not here, both before and after, and only exist when you are looking at them.

Cat with attitudeBut, while math, or indeed physics, was never my forte, extrapolating stories always was, so here is the true ending of our story-problem, the one math teachers never tell you:

One day while eating his organic Cheerios, Mr. Catpeople suddenly realizes the cat is speaking to him. At first it seems fun, but gradually he realizes the evil creature is shooting feline  thought-rays at him, trying to take control of his mind. Every where he turns, the cat is looking at him.   “Get an ax…Kill the dog….”

Mr. Catpeople sets his spoon down and his remaining Cheerios go soggy while he wrestles with this directive. It seems reasonable, but… “Um, we don’t have a dog.” 

“Did I say ‘dog?’ Sorry. I meant kill the annoying woman with the evil vacuum….”

So the true answer to the problem is ‘0’ because after the funeral Mr. Catpeople will be vacuuming.

 

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Vegan Fried Chicken

photo courtesy 'Taste of Home'

photo courtesy ‘Taste of Home’

Tomorrow I am hosting a gathering of local authors at my home, for an all day immersion in the craft.  I am providing a lunch, and it will be a lot of fun. The menu will be:

Fried Chicken (a vegan will have fried it, so there you go–Vegan Fried Chicken)

Potato Salad – vegan

Green Salad – vegan

Avocado Salad – vegan

As I have said before, I was not always a vegan, and am frequently a reluctant one.  But for my health’s sake, I avoid meat, and dairy. I am careful what I consume, because I have an autoimmune response to these foods–inflammation of my joints that cripples me. While I love fried chicken as much as anyone, I really prefer to be mobile and off the cane.

The negative effects of going off my vegan diet are immediate–maximum suffering occurring within 24 hrs. Then it takes two or three days to clear out of my system.

tacos and burritosDue to the  way our food is grown and processed by the large food manufacturers, many people nowadays are suffering food related allergies. All the food I prepare for groups is gluten free, nut free, organic and locally grown (except the avocados-they don’t grow in Tenino.) Even the chicken is organic and raised humanely. I have become re-attuned to the notion of being connected to your food as more than a consumer. If you know where it came from, how it was grown, you have more appreciation for it, and each meal becomes a celebration.

Food is love, but only if love went into the preparation of it.

I am a vegan, but those around me are not, and I do love them, so I frequently prepare ‘blended meals,’ keeping the side dishes vegan, and creating a separate high-quality, organically raised meat dish for those who expect it. If I provide dairy, it is clearly labeled so that it isn’t accidentally mixed with the non-dairy foods.

SO–the vegan will fry the chicken, and carnivorous authors will consume it. The vegan really won’t miss it at all, as I have found new sources of protein that really satisfy me in the crucial areas of taste and texture, and the quality and pronounce-ability of the ingredients is excellent. That is the basis of my ongoing cookbook project that I hope to launch in late 2015.

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