DREAM SHOPPING LIST FOR READERS

To celebrate the manic holiday season ahead, today I'd like to write my "dream list" for readers.  Be forewarned, the key word here is DREAM...

... as in, DREAM BIG.

Does anyone else remember the drool-worthy bookcases in the movie MEET JOE BLACK?

Anthony Hopkins was in the movie, too.
What more do you need?

These bookcases are what I really want for Christmas. 
Sigh.  Never gonna happen. 
Okay.  Let's find something smaller.

I've always dreamed of a window seat.
Wait a minute...
Is anyone else getting a TWILIGHT movie vibe from this?

I need to move to this house, right now.
And paint the walls something besides white.

So cute for a kids' room!

But enough about bookshelves. 
Let's say your partner wants to sleep and you want to read just a little bit more...

 

 

Awwwww.  Aren't these just the cutest?  They are from www.dhgate.com (if you're five years old or if when you see these lamps it just feels that way)

 

 

Sorry, but I find the these next ones creepy.  I just don't like it when figures don't have heads.  Or if heads don't have a body.  Like Santa heads.  Or--worse yet--clown heads.  Who could sleep with one of these gutless, headless wonders in the room?  Not me.
 

 

 

 

And for the super hero worshipers...  (www.aliexpress.com )

 

 

Does anyone else find something wrong with this next photo?

 

 

(It's like E.T.'s finger, except it's her boobs.  Good grief.)




No, I'm not suggesting a pet as a Christmas present, because this often goes awry despite the best intentions.  I just liked this picture.

But don't worry.  I still have a few more gift ideas up my parka sleeve.

 

Every reader's dream list includes books. 
Piles and piles of books.
Here's some books to fill those beautiful new bookshelves from my "need to read" list.

 

Without Bloodshed (Book One of Starbreaker) by Matthew Graybosch
“All who threaten me die.”

These words made Morgan Stormrider’s reputation as one of the Phoenix Society’s deadliest IRD officers. He served with distinction as the Society’s avenger, hunting down anybody who dared kill an Adversary in the line of duty. After a decade spent living by the sword, Morgan seeks to bid a farewell to arms and make a new life with his friends as a musician.Regardless of his faltering faith, the Phoenix Society has a final mission for Morgan Stormrider after a dictator’s accusations make him a liability to the organization. He must put everything aside, travel to Boston, and prove he is not the Society’s assassin. He must put down Alexander Liebenthal’s coup while taking him alive.

Despite the gravity of his task, Morgan cannot put aside his ex-girlfriend’s murder, or efforts to frame him and his closest friends for the crime. He cannot ignore a request from a trusted friend to investigate the theft of designs for a weapon before which even gods stand defenseless. He cannot disregard the corruption implied in the Phoenix Society’s willingness to make him a scapegoat should he fail to resolve the crisis in Boston without bloodshed.
The words with which Morgan Stormrider forged his reputation haunt him still.

 

The Devil's Flower (The Eternal Beings, Book One) by Lisa Collicutt
Killing isn’t exactly on Rosalie Lockwood’s list of things to do when she runs away from home. But despite her search for peace; guns and motorcycles become her latest fashion accessories as Divine interference leads her to Steele, co-leader of the Fallen Paladins motorcycle club.
Leathered and tattooed, Steele’s presence scares off most people he comes in contact with—but not Rosalie. She’s immediately drawn into the dangers of his biker world—and into his heart.
But Steele guards a secret that if Rosalie knew, could shatter their new love—along with destroy the human race. And the truth comes at a price.
Will Rosalie risks her soul to prove her loyalty to Steele?
The Dark and Light Realms collide as Rosalie chooses between life, death, and the ever-after to become that which she is fated to destroy.

 

 

Legasea by Krystalyn Drown
When sixteen-year-old Aileen Shay sees a dead girl floating in the bay during a midnight yacht party, she never imagines Jamie Flannigan, her new boyfriend, may be involved. The only thing she knows about Jamie is that he personifies the one thing she has been drawn to her entire life – the ocean. But as she grows closer to him, she realizes he knows more about the murder than he’s telling. When another girl is attacked, and Jamie refuses to answer her questions, Aileen searches for answers on her own.
Aileen learns that Jamie’s family belongs more to myths and legends than they do in the real world. They are selkies, and after the Flannigans threaten her family, Aileen suspects they are responsible for both attacks.
But they aren’t the only ones in her small fishing town who can keep a secret. As Aileen uncovers the truth about the murder, the selkies, and her own family, she learns why her soul is bonded to the sea. But with that revelation comes a choice – to permanently sever her connection with the water, which comes at a painful cost, or embrace a legacy that just might get her killed.

 

Darkness Watching (Darkworld #1) by Emma L. Adams
Eighteen-year-old Ashlyn is one interview away from her future when she first sees the demons. She thinks she’s losing her mind, but the truth is far more frightening: she can see into the Darkworld, the home of spirits– and the darkness is staring back.
Desperate to escape the demons, Ash accepts a place at a university in the small town of Blackstone, in the middle of nowhere – little knowing that it isn’t coincidence that led her there but the pull of the Venantium, the sorcerers who maintain the barrier keeping demons from crossing from the Darkworld into our own world.
All-night parties, new friendships and a life without rules or limits are all part of the package of student life – but demons still stalk Ash, and their interest in her has attracted the attention of every sorcerer in the area. Ash is soon caught between her new life and a group of other students with a connection to the Darkworld, who could offer the answers she’s looking for. The demons want something from her, and someone is determined to kill her before she can find out what it is.
In a world where darkness lurks beneath the surface, not everyone is what they appear to be…

 

Pop Travel by Tara Tyler
POP TRAVEL is the way to go!
(at your own risk!)
In 2080, technology has gone too far for J. L. Cooper. He is happily hidden in his simple, secluded life as a private detective in a small town, far from any pop travel laser teleportation stations. Until he takes on a client who insists pop travel made his fiancé disappear.
When Cooper investigates, he finds evidence of pop travel’s deadly flaw, sparking a series of murders, attempts on his life, and threats to his brother. He’d like to pass off the evidence but knows he’s being watched and can’t trust anyone. And who would believe him
The only way he can save his brother is to fool his observers while looking for a way to expose the problem. He decides to go to the source and confront the Creator of pop travel. On his way, Cooper meets Southern siren, Geri Harper (an undercover FBI agent) who tags along despite his protests. When they reach the Creator, he has plans of his own and leads them on a wild detour.

 

 

Shadow of a Dead Star (Wonderland Cycle, Book One) by Michael Shean

Seattle, 2078. The future hasn’t been kind to the spirit of humanity; commercial obsession and technological fetishism rules the day, religion and belief has died screaming in the fires of war, and what remains is moral decrepitude. Life in the future is hard on the soul.
As an agent of the Industrial Security Bureau, it is Thomas Walken’s duty to keep the city of Seattle free of black-market technology. But when a trio of living sex-dolls he has recently intercepted are stolen from custody, Walken finds himself seeking a great deal more than just contraband; he will be forced to use his skills and preternatural instincts to try and keep his career, his freedom, and his life.
As questions mount and the list of living suspects begin to shrink with alarming speed, Walken must hurry to find the truth – but finding it will challenge his understanding not only of the world in which he lives, but of a world which may exist beyond it for which he cannot be prepared.
A dark and brooding tale, Shadow of a Dead Star follows one man’s plunge through depravity, vice, and ultimately existential conflict in a technologically-obsessed world of the near future.


Hope you enjoyed shopping!
Please visit my author facebook page at:  https://www.facebook.com/ann.noser?ref=tn_tnmn#!/AnnMNoser

 

 

 



THANKSGIVING SAFETY TIPS FOR PETS

I hope you're all looking forward to Thanksgiving as much as I am.  A day off of work (hopefully), special time with family and friends, and perhaps the best eats of the year.


This little guy is ready... Are you?

What could be the harm in that? 
The trouble with Thanksgiving is this guy right here, just hoping to sneak a bite, or two, or three, or twenty...

Remember, now, Miss Piggy says not to eat anything bigger than your head.

 

Here's an article I wrote for the local newspaper in the hopes of keeping the furriest members of the household safe (and, no, I don't mean your Uncle Ralph with that bad case of back hair):

 

http://www.postbulletin.com/life/lifestyles/pet-vet-don-t-let-your-pet-join-in-thanksgiving/article_552548f4-66a5-54b9-8034-677aaf66a270.html



Following these guidelines can help avoid a trip to the veterinary hospital with a sick pet.

So carve the turkey, serve up the pie, and count your blessings this Thanksgiving. 

And watch out for this cat...



 

P.S.  I'm all grown up now.  I have a publishing contract, a Good Reads page, and a Facebook author page.  Feel free to visit:

https://www.facebook.com/ann.noser?ref=tn_tnmn#!/AnnMNoser

NEWS FLASH

I've been waiting a very long time to say this:
SOMEONE WANTS TO PUBLISH ONE OF MY BOOKS!

I just signed a contract with Curiosity Quills to publish HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS.
Who is Curiosity Quills?
You can check them out here:  http://curiosityquills.com/

You may have questions: 
Where will it be sold? 
When will it be available? 
What is it about? 

At the moment, I can only answer the last one.  The others will be revealed in time.

HAHA

Some version of the following write up may end up on the back of my published book.


HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS

Quiet college sophomore Emma Roberts remembers her mother’s sage advice:  “don’t sleep around, don’t burp in public, and don’t tell anyone you see ghosts”.  But when cute Mike Carlson drowns in the campus river under her watch, Emma’s sheltered life shatters. 

 

Blamed for Mike’s death and haunted by nightmares, Emma turns to witchcraft and a mysterious Book of Shadows to bring him back.  Under a Blood Moon, she lights candles, draws a pentacle on the campus bridge, and casts a spell.  The invoked river rages up against her, but she escapes its fury.  As she stumbles back to the dorm, a stranger drags himself from the water and follows her home.  

This is a Blood Moon.  So cool.  Right?

 

Instead of raising Mike, Emma assists the others she stole back from the dead—a pre-med student who jumped off the bridge, a young father determined to solve his own murder, and a frat boy Emma can’t stand…at first.  More comfortable with the dead than the living, Emma delves deeper into the seductive Book of Shadows.  Her powers grow, but witchcraft may not be enough to protect her against the vengeful river and the killers that feed it their victims.

  (Look at cute little innocent Willow.)

Emma is a cross between Whoopi Goldberg’s psychic in Ghost and Willow’s transformation from bookworm to witch in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Inspired by the controversial Smiley Face Murders theory, HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS will appeal to paranormal fans of all ages. 

 

 (This is powerful, angry Willow)

 

So what made me write about witchcraft, death, and misguided resurrection?

Read about it in my previous blog:  http://annandersonnoser.blogspot.com/2013/06/mile-20-why-do-you-write-sudden.html

 

 

 

 

PET HALLOWEEN SAFETY TIPS

BOO!



OK, so these aren't the most fearsome ghoulies you've ever seen.

But some of the things that can happen to pets on Halloween ARE quite scary.

I'd advise reading the following article to keep your pets safe on this fun holiday:

http://www.postbulletin.com/life/lifestyles/pet-vet-practice-safety-with-pets-for-halloween/article_db897cc4-9cd7-5a40-835c-c5c864061d1c.html

- Happy Halloween!
Dr. Ann M. Anderson

THIS IS HOW I FEEL ABOUT ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE

 

My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease a dozen years ago.

She now resides in a Memory Care facility.

She hasn't called me by my own name in at least a year.

This morning was the first time that, when she looked into my face,

she saw a complete stranger.

 

Hence the poem.  My form of therapy, I guess.

 

 

I MISS YOU

I miss you, Mom

Even when we’re in the same room.

I push your wheelchair down the hallway to church

And remember our hikes through falling leaves.

I even miss our arguments.

Couldn’t you, just once, tell me to not wear so much black?

That my hair is too long for a woman my age?

That my father wishes I’d take out the belly ring and go back to church?

But you can’t, because you don’t even remember my name.

This is what’s left of your life:

Monotonous days staring at the TV,

Institutional meals,

Elastic-waist pants the Real You would call “tacky”.

Brave, kind nurses

tending to you in this waiting room of death.

Days, weeks, and months go by

But you no longer mark them off on your calendar.

Your eyes don’t light up when I bring you flowers

Because your love for them faded away.

Your meticulously arranged photo albums

Confuse you

Who are these people?

Someday you won’t even smile at my kids.

I know the day is coming,

But it hurts just the same.

I can accept that you can’t remember their names.

Or mine.

When you call me anything, I’m your sister.

I don’t mind,

At least you picked a relative I like.

But today you looked at me as you would a stranger

And it makes me wonder

Just how bad is this going to get?

And how many other people cry in the parking lot of the nursing home

After every visit?

 

 

MY THOUGHTS ON LOVE

There's a good reason I don't write romance novels.  Back in undergrad, my roommate devoured romance novels by the bushel.  A generous soul, she said I could read them.  This was a offer I'm sure she soon regretted.  I betrayed her kindness by immediately hopping up on the couch, opening to a juicy scene and performing an improptu dramatic interpretation of the bodice-busting, chest-heaving, loins-throbbing encounter.

I was so amused by my own cleverness.  I can't say the same for my roommate, although I give her full credit for putting up with me.

But the reason I'm pondering romance today is that I went to a wedding this weekend.  Not just any wedding, but the ceremony of one of the best friends I'll ever have.  I met her when I was five years old and her family moved in next door.  I still remember watching Laura and her brother, Joel, spill out of the car that pulled into their drive.


My response:  "YES!!!  They have kids!!!"

Let me explain:  I am an only child.  (Enough said.)



Aren't we cute? From left to right, Joel, Ann (me), and Laura



 





Back to this past weekend:

The vows Laura and her bride spoke to each other were the most beautiful vows I have ever heard.  Which made me wonder what made it so.  After much thought, I decided it was because these two clever and creative people have already been in love for ten years.  Time gives you wisdom (along with lots of things I could complain about, but won't, because I'd rather be smart with crow's feet than stupid without them). 

Time deepens love, if it doesn't drown it. 

The first glimpse I had of actual, true love was at the age of 30, when I met my husband.  No wonder I never thought much of it before, because I simply had no idea how powerful the emotion could be.  But love changes with the years, hopefully growing instead of fading away with the bright fall colors.

I'm so happy I've been fortunate enough to be friends with Laura for all these years. 
I'm thrilled she met Dawn, and that they have built a beautiful life together.



Laura and Dawn

I'm so overjoyed that I can't stop thinking, smiling, and writing about it. 
My best wishes to them both, and my hope that the world can be a place built on love and not hate.

(No, I'm not running for Miss America, but world peace wouldn't be such a bad thing to wish for as well.)




DADDY'S NOT-SO-LITTLE-GIRL

THE LAST PICTURE I TOOK OF MY FATHER, JERRY ANDERSON

 

 

TOMORROW IS THE FOURTH ANNIVERSARY OF MY FATHER'S DEATH.

His body had been weakened by chronic lymphocytic leukemia.  Three days before his death, his beloved pit bull named Melon Head died from heart failure.  I was his veterinarian.  Dad passed away on a Saturday afternoon.  My husband climbed on the roof cleaning the chimney.  I crouched in the bathroom, changing my daughter's diaper when the phone rang.  Naturally, I ignored it.  After I had everything cleaned up, I came out into the kitchen and hit the PLAY MESSAGES button.

My poor mother, who had already suffered from Alzheimer's for almost ten years, spoke to me:  "Jerry's at the bottom of the stairs.  He's covered in blood and he won't speak to me.  Why won't he speak to me?"

Dad had fallen to his death while attempting to attach a coat hook at the top. 

At the time, I felt grateful he'd died so quickly, because his leukemia had weakened him to the point that he required a blood transfusion every two weeks just to stay alive.  But he was always cold and never felt well.  The doctor told him he needed to consider having chemo again, but Dad refused to give him an answer.

This way he didn't have to decide. 

I still miss him, but I miss the parents of my childhood.  Does everyone else feel this way when their parents die or lose their minds, I wonder.




THE POEM I WROTE ON HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY AFTER HE DIED

 

You wore the uniform of the elderly

A band aid on your elbow and a striped polo tee

A dark belt hiking up your faded old slacks

Your basement packed with things from the past

Inside your clothes

There was too much room

You had never been this skinny

You had never been so cold

I will never again hear your stories retold

 

Now that you’re gone

I see you everywhere

In slow moving vans

Pocket protectors and grey hair

But none of these strangers have your sputtering laugh

Or twenty-five napkins of penned physics graphs

None of them read me the Little House books

Or made TV dinners when Mom couldn’t cook

You ate Quaker Oat Squares

Sat on cracked vinyl chairs                                                                          

Used felt tipped pens

Had church choir friends

Liked big band tunes

Duct taped vacuums

 

But now your basement is empty

And your clothes have been donated

There’s no more chocolate cake for your birthday

And I don’t feel like your little girl anymore