If you want to lose your heart, come to a small town.

We like to dress things up.

We like our art. Especially the kind you can hang right next to your delicates.

United we stand.

We cherish our history. No matter that it didn’t always end well.

Yet we welcome our foreign friends as well.

Especially when they know what to do with batter and a skillet.

Down at the square, they pipe in music to walk around by.

Family is everything.

We’d carry their burdens anywhere.

We know that many of life’s problems can be solved by just the right amount of sugar.

We know how to beat the heat. . .

…yet still cherish the day.

Hope you are sticky-lipped, sun-kissed, hands-to-sky, enjoying your summer.

10 comments

When last we left me, I was facing a long line of security (my second round in 15 minutes) thanks to an erring airport worker. . .

My Trip Home
Written by Jenny B. Jones

Opening Scene: Miami Airport
(insert sound of Jenny’s Tears)

It’s finally time for my flight from Miami to Chicago. From Chicago I will get to Arkansas. And when I’m in Arkansas, I’m home! After getting to bed at midnight that morning, rising at two, being denied Dasani, and being on a plane all day, I am exhausted.

So we board the flight to Chicago.
And then we sit.
And sit.
And sit.
Finally, the pilot comes on the speaker. “Our computer isn’t working. We have a backup, and we’re going to try and use that.”
You’re going to TRY and use that? And when will we know if this is a success? Upon landing? Upon, “Oh, wow, good thing we just dodged that mountain?” And when would we know if it was a failure–when we’re nose down in the ocean?

I try not to get worried. Honestly, I was too hot to be too concerned with a piddly little thing like crucial airplane parts. Because apparently the air conditioning wasn’t working. We continued to sit, and people started getting upset. I could feel the heat from the Miami pavement coming up through the floor. (Which caused me to think, “Why can I feel air AT ALL from the floor? This plane needs my caulking gun.”)

The updates continued, transitioning from “spare computer won’t work” to “we’re waiting for parts.” The flight attendants started passing out ice water and snacks. An hour and a half goes by. And hour and a half with NO AIR. Finally, “We’re moving you to another plane. Please get your sweaty butts off this aircraft.”

Another hour-and-a-half later, we are boarded on the new plane. THREE HOURS have passed. Pilot comes on the speaker, “We’re about ready to go. Oh, wait, we just found out there is no gas on this plane. We better get some.”  Okay, that’s it. When we take-off, I am so using my Kindle. And you can’t stop me.

We sit there long enough that my Large Wendy’s tea has gone straight to my bladder (the role of Jenny’s bladder will be played by a small peanut), so I go straight to the back. A male flight attendant stands near the bathroom door. “Can I use that?”
“Sure.” Sir Flight Attendant fails to remind me if we’re not in the air, the WATER doesn’t work.  So I get all soaped up and…no water. I exit the bathroom. “There is no water.”
The flight attendant doesn’t spare me a glance. “Nope.”
So I go back to my seat with foamy, sticky, soapy hands, with visions of a drink cart mowing down one particular flight attendant.

So someone obviously fills our plane up, and we take to the skies. By the time we land in Chicago, it is 8:30 pm, and I have long since missed my connection. I have also long since lost my filter and am grateful I’m not wearing my Never the Same mission trip tshirt, as did the other 350 participants. Because I had stopped representing the Faithful about ten hours ago and had crossed over to the Dark and Whiny side. I go to one of the American Airlines gates, tell them my situation. “You need to go over there.” She waves down the hall. “Go talk to American Airlines.” Um…I am talking to American Airlines. I ask her for directions to “over there” and she adds a chin jerk with her hand wave. Oh, THAT over there.

Waling down the hall, I stop at one gate and wait forever, never moving. I leave. I continue walking, yet see no magical spot with flashing lights that say, “Lost? Tired? Hungry? Here is your spot,” so I stop at another gate. That woman ends up being a flight attendant and truly can’t help me, but nicely points to a bank of phones. I end up calling American Airlines, and after configuring/reconfiguring every flight possibility, it is determined I’m not getting out that night. “But if you fly me to Buffalo to Houston to Little Rock…No? Okay, how about Alberta to Heathrow to Dallas then Tulsa?”  
The woman on the phone says, “You’re going to have to spend the night in Chicago. And you need to talk to an actual person in the airport to get your vouchers.”
I said, “Ma’am, I’ve been trying to talk to a real person for 45 minutes.”
“You’re in a major airport. You’re in Chicago. There should be American Airlines people all around you.”
“You would think so!” By this time, I am out of my mind tired. And I’ve just been told it’s all for naught, as I won’t be going home. To my bed. Which is on the ground. With air conditioning.

So I keep walking down the nearly-deserted gate. (Seriously, it was 9 pm. WHERE was everyone?)  and finally, finally find a counter where there were some folks working. There are two people, and I know immediately which one will be waiting on me when it’s my turn. The crabby old lady who just got off her Lemon Sucking Break. I wait, wait, wait. Finally my turn. Crabby Lemon Face asks what I need. I tell her my story. “Are you American or American Eagle?” she asks. Lady, I’m TICKED OFF CUSTOMER. She says some stuff about how she shouldn’t help me, about how it’s going to come back on her. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but with the last dregs of my energy, I give her my Teacher Stare No. 5, reserved for boys who throw gang signs and girls who forget bras. She prints out some vouchers.

I take my dinner voucher and go find something to eat. This is all I see.

The picture is hard to decipher, so let me tell you what it is. A CLOSED FOOD COURT. At 9:00 pm. In a major airport. To be fair, McDonalds was open, but I wanted real food.  (Can you hear the violins getting louder…?) I find a Dunkin Donuts and buy a water and a banana. The guy rings it up. “Do you need anything else?”
“A new life.” This literally came out of my mouth. See, in my head lives a narrator from an 80s sitcom. Because this is where the scene would’ve faded. This is where we would gone to a commercial for Midol.

So then I get sent downstairs to find out if my bags went on to Arkansas or are somewhere in the airport being held captive. I walk up to the baggage desk.Tell the guy my story.

“I need my bag if it’s here.”

“Ma’am, baggage shuts down at ten. You aren’t going to be able to get your bag.”

“It’s 9:30.” I lean over the counter. “Are you telling me closing time is at ten, but they do a warm-up closing at 9:30?”  Teacher Stare No. 4 (for spit wadders).

“I’ll go get your bag.”

Baggage Dude comes back 15 minutes later. “I saw your bag. Does it have a purple tag?”

“Yes. Where is it?”

“I can’t bring it. I have to put in a work order.” Ten minutes later….

“Okay, so your bag will be coming out in about 20 minutes. You need to go get it over–Oh, hey! Jason! Dude! Hold up!” Baggage man leaves mid-sentence. LEAVES.

My head whips to the other guy behind the desk. “While your friend is hugging it out, can you tell me where my bag will be?”

Twenty minutes later, my bag shoots out of Conveyor Number Nine. I catch the shuttle to my hotel, Comfort Inn and Suites. Remember this name. Because you do not want to stay here. This is where you send your enemies and unloved relatives.

I’m on the shuttle and the driver is so nice and cheery. And I’m thinking, it doesn’t take much, does it? Just to be positive? My evening is totally turning around.

I get to the front desk. Super kind folks. They tell me I can use my voucher for the restaurant, but there’s a private party going on. I just go straight to my room.

And this place is nasty. As my friend Snow Loving Holly says, “Pay by the hour motel” nasty. And it’s creepy. I walk into my room…and it’s like I just stepped in the club. Turns out my room is directly over the restaurant. And they are getting down. Walls are shaking. The bass is surely in my room. I take my bags and go right back down the creepy hall with the stained carpet and get in the creepy elevator and go to the desk.

“Hi, can I get a different room? Any one will do.” I don’t really need to explain the situation. The fact that the bags under my eyes have doubled in size is probably explanation enough.

The guy gives me a look. “I can put you on the sixth floor.” (Insert weird pause) “Are you okay with that?”

“Sounds good.” I would sleep on the roof at this point.

“Okay,” he says. “Let me go make sure it’s clean. And safe.”

I sit there for a second. Then I hear the voices of my sainted and worry-ridden mother AND aunt in my head and know if I died that night without inquiring about the unsafe room, the ladies would be so mad at me, they would not give me a proper burial.

“What do you mean to see if it’s safe?”

He looks at girl behind counter. Girl look at him.
He laughs. It’s fake. “Nothing. I didn’t mean that.”
I laugh. It’s fake. “Yes, you did. You just didn’t mean to SAY it.”
“Uh, nothing. Just that the other day I had to escort a woman to her room and check it out first and she was really glad I did and—never mind.” Swaps look with co-worker. “I’m going to close my mouth now.”

This should’ve been the point that I left, but I didn’t. Because if my choices were not sleeping at all or sleeping 2 hours before getting knifed in the gut, I was okay with some blood and stitches.

Room passes the gentleman’s inspection, but after I get up there, I have no idea what he was looking at. Because the room was disgusting. Window unit air conditioner leaking water all over the floor, stained everything. I will spare you other details, but let’s just say I put a chair in front of the door. And my 400 lb. suitcase. But the hotel’s soap made it all better. It was just what I needed.

I sleep a few hours, dreaming of ax murderers, bug spray, and Tupac. I forego the hotel’s free breakfast and get back to the airport four hours early. Where I find a whole new facility. There is sun. There are stores open. There is a Chilis. Check out this food court.

It’s open and everything.

And look at this.

Even saw an ad of me in my hotel room.

Clean sheets! Cushy bed! Windows without bars!

So I get on my American Airlines flight to Arkansas and we sit on the tarmac for a bit. Then the pilot starts YELLING at the baggage handler. Not as in gets up and goes and loudly speaks to him. As in sits in his pilot seat and yells out the cockpit to the guy on the ground. Cussing the guy out. And he wasn’t using your Standard Issue SDH’s, but words that, had I had any sleep in two days, I would’ve been offended. WHO DOES THIS? it’s one thing to yell at a coworker. It’s another to be so lazy you won’t even get out of your seat to do it. The business guys sitting around me were amused, but I just kept thinking, “He really needs some of my hotel soap.”

We finally hit the skies. With much turbulence.
And I got home.
Where I had to talk to baggage claim again. To find my luggage.

The End.

Music:
“American Airlines Sucks Worse than Wedgies”
Original lyrics and score by Jenny B. Jones

“Hey, American Airlines Lady, What Did I Ever Do To You?”
Original lyrics and score by Jenny B. Jones

“Hey, American Airlines Dude, I’ve Had More Fun With Paper Cuts and Jalapenos.”
Original lyrics and score by Jenny B. Jones

32 comments

Announcing the Winners of Mostly YA Fab Author Summer Extravaganza!

Winner of To Die For: Rachelle Rea

Winner of Miss Match: Lisa Carter

Winner of Perfectly Invisible: Tonya

Winner of Waterfall: Reagan

Winner of So Over It: Catrina

Winner of Swept Away: Macy Muray

Winner of the gift card & There You’ll Find Me arc: Felicia

Winners, shoot me an email w/your home addy using my contact page and put the title of the book won in the subject please. Congratulations!

If you didn’t win, let me tell you about yet ANOTHER contest. We’re giving away a Nook over at Southern Belle View. Pop over there and play along.

So did anyone see Harry Potter 7.2? My friend Snow Loving Holly and I lucked into some midnight tickets, so we went. I think we each had about 400 dollars worth of snacky contraband in our purses. It wasn’t the least bit obvious… And yes, Holly’s 4 year old son always carries a large handbag as well, why do you ask, Mr. Ticket Taker?

Anyway, I liked the movie a lot. Those films are something to see just for the special effects and imagery. So pretty. I can’t even imagine what it’s like as an author to see your book come alive in that way, especially in a way that is dead-on fabulous. If I had written some fantasy series, Hollywood probably would’ve done it in claymation. And sold it directly to Syfy. (And when did they become Syfy? What kind of spelling is that?)  I hadn’t read the Deathly Hallows (which, I know, is a personal insult to you true Harry Potter fans), so I was surprised by the nods to the Christian faith in the movie. Lots of them. Very cool to see. That JK Rowling is first class. I’d totally let her hang out with me and Holly.

What did YOU think of the movie, for those of you who saw it? Aren’t you sad it’s all over? It’s the end of an era! What was your favorite part? One of mine was when Mrs. Weasley had her big moment toward the end. That went a little too fast for me. She’s waited 7 books and 8 movies for that!

Okay, I said I’d be back with more of my Crappy Trip Home from Ecuador, but that is going to have to wait til Wednesday.  It’s working up to be 97 degrees here, and my air conditioning has died, so I am fixing that. Okay, I’m paying someone to fix that. But it is still taxing my brain. My very hot brain.

I will share Miller’s special welcome home to me before I go. Whenever I travel, my dear, sweet cat loves to catch up on all the talking we missed out on. So he meows. Every 2 seconds. Usually for 3 days straight. He is a joy…

And that ain’t nothing. At that point, he was already worn out and hoarse. You can hear me laughing in the video, but two hours later, I was ready to punch the both of us in the throat. Reasons to get a dog….

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Mostly YA Fab Author Summer Extravaganza (MYFASE) has been so awesome. Thank you all for participating. I’ve extended the deadlines for all the entering and such until Sunday Eve, July 17, 2011, the Year of Harry Potter. So if you haven’t entered in the individual post drawings for giveaways by Nicole O’Dell, Erynn Mangum, Kristin Billerbeck, Sandra Byrd, Stephanie Morrill, and Lisa Tawn Bergren, there is still time to secure the win. Also don’t forget, if you comment on all six posts, you’re additionally in the running for Monday’s giveaway of a $25.00 Barnes and Noble gift card PLUS a signed Advanced Reader Copy of There You’ll Find Me, the spin-off book from Save the Date.  (Also There You’ll Find Me is currently at an el cheapo Amazon pre-order price the likes of which I have never seen. And if you order within one hour, you’ll also get a ShamWow, a PedEgg, and a private concert with a Justin Bieber look-alike. Offer will not last long…)

So I have been bloggily absent as I was in Ft. Lauderdale, then Quito, Ecuador with Never the Same, a mission trip for teens by Susie Magazine. More on that later, but next year the group is going to Panama, and teens, you should totally consider going. It’s one of the neatest experiences you could possibly have.

Anyway, I have been gone exactly 100 days sixteen days. It was a great experience, but getting home…not such a great experience. Allow me to illustrate. (You might want to grab snacks and get comfortable.)

My Trip Home
Written by Jenny B. Jones

So the night before we leave Quito(technically morning), I get to sleep about midnight. My alarm goes off at two a.m., blasting music from the Latino Rob Zombie. I don’t know what the artist is singing, but he’s angry. Very, very angry. I am in the lobby at 3:00 a.m., and we roll out to the Quito airport. I pass through security no problemo. Then there’s a bonus security check point in our waiting area for our plane. (I would call it a gate, but it was so not a gate. It was a room. With chairs.) Anyway, they check out carry-ons using their hands, pointed questions, and mind-control.

“Do you have any liquids in that bag?” The gentleman doesn’t even check.
“Yes, I have hand sanitizer.”
“Is it in a plastic bag?”
“No.” Because I’m a rebel. You cannot contain my wild tendencies.
Quito Security Man looks worried, pauses, but says nothing.
“If it’s a problem, you can keep it,” I say. I’m home bound I don’t need the stuff. Plus, statistics show it doesn’t really work and we’re crawling with bacteria and organisms anyway.
“Thank you.” Man takes out sanitizer from tiny zippered compartment of my bag, the only compartment he’s checked. Was this really a security hazard? No. I just think he was enamored with the Sweet Pea-scented alcohol. “Do you have any other liquids?”
“No.” Senor Security does not even look. Just takes my word for it.

After passing Honor System Security Test, I go sit down. I enjoy the free wi-fi, because apparently the crap airports have this, including my own hometown mini-airport. The same is true for crap hotels, but that will come later.

I decide to get a water for the plane. I go out of the waiting area, buy a water, and they stop me on my way back in. It went a little something like this. . .
“You can’t take that in here.”
“Why?”
“It’s a liquid.”
“Yes. It’s a liquid I just purchased IN YOUR AIRPORT after going through a few rounds of security.”
“It’s a liquid. You must drink it outside of the waiting area.”
“What if I put this in my bag and we never speak of this again?”
“No. No liquids.”
“I’ve never heard of any airport in the world doing this.” (Because I’m such an international jet setter…)
“You cannot have the water.”
“Fine. I am going to go stand “over there” and drink my water and talk badly about your policy. Out loud.”
“Anything else?”
“There will be Stink Eye.”

So knowing I’ll be deprived of my newly purchased fluids, I down 20 oz. of water in 30 seconds, 5 feet away from security in the designated “drinking spot” with 4 other people  like we’re at some invisible bar. I then spend the four hours of the flight to Miami ticking off my sleeping seatmates by peeing every 30 minutes and cursing the Quito TSA.

Get to Miami. This airport is the second layer of Dante’s Hell. If you study the Hebrew text, Ephesians 4:29 says “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths. Unless it’s about Miami International.”  I am traveling with author, speaker, magazine creator/editor, all-around fun gal Susie Shellenberger, and though we both go through security and customs at the same time, somehow we get spit out in different places. We both get lost. Which makes it hard to meet for lunch.

We both try to work the maze and get to Concourse D. I stop a woman and ask if I need to ride the SkyTrain. (Except I couldn’t think of the word “Sky Train” and asked “Do I need to ride the thingie?” then whirled my finger about like a rodeo queen with a lasso.)

“No, you no need the SkyTrain. We are doing construction. You need to go outside to the tunnel and it take you right to D.”
I put up my lasso. “I go outside?”
“Si. Right out those doors. Easy.”
“But if I go outside, won’t I have to go through security again?”
“No, of course not. Eees okay. Go outside.”

So I go outside, take the short tunnel, and there is D.
And a huge line for security.
“Can I help you?” Random man in uniform asks.
“Um. . .I need to get to Concourse D. Do I have to go through security?”
“Of course.”
“But that lady just said I didn’t.”
“Ma’am, you just came from OUTSIDE.”
“I KNOW!” I try to bat my eyelashes, but the bags under my eyes get in the way. “Please, sir. I have to meet my friend. We are trying to get to Chilis. All I want to do is eat good in the neighborhood, for the love of all that’s holy!”
“Then I guess you better get in line.”
Slowest.
Security.
Line.
Ever.

And so concludes Part I.
Stay tuned for Part II on Monday. It only goes downhill from here.

Closing Credits
My Trip Home
Written by: Jenny B. Jones
Directed by: Jenny B. Jones
Produced by: I’ve Only Had 2 Hours of Sleep and You Don’t Want to Mess with This Productions

Music:
“Quito Airport You Are Ridiculous”
Original music and score by Jenny B. Jones
Performed by Jenny B. Jones, with guest T-Pain

“Miami Airport, Nobody Likes You”
Original music and score by Jenny B. Jones
Performed by Jenny B. Jones and the Miami International Sucks Band

“Chilis, I Didn’t Mean To Cheat On You and Go to Wendy’s”
Original music and score by Jenny B. Jones
Performed by Jenny B. Jones and some random dude behind her who plays a mean Spork

“Frostys Are Good Overture”
Original music and score by Jenny B. Jones

 

32 comments

Mostly YA Fab Author Summer Extravaganza (MYFASE) has been so much fun. We wrap it up with mega author Sandra Byrd, who like Lisa Bergren, Kristen Billerbeck, and myself writes for the womenfolk as well as teens. Last time we discussed fave book covers, I mentioned Sandra’s To Die For and knew I wanted to talk to her about this book. Sandra is also giving away a copy of the book, so stay tuned for instructions. In the meantime, welcome Sandra!!!

Tell us about To Die For.

To Die For is the story of Meg Wyatt, pledged forever as the best friend to Anne Boleyn since their childhoods on neighboring manors in Kent. When Anne’s star begins to ascend, of course, she takes her best firend Meg along for hte ride. Life in the court of Henry VIII is thrilling at first, but as Anne’s favor rises and falls, so does Meg’s. And though she’s pledged her loyalty to Anne no matter what the test, Meg just might lose her greatest love–and her own life–because of it.

Meg’s childhood flirtation with a boy on a neighboring estate turns to true love early on. When he is called to follow the Lord and be a pirest, she turns her back on both the man and his God. Slowly, though, both woo her back through the heady times of hte English reformation. in the midst of it, Meg finds her place in history, her own calling to the Lord she must follow, too, with consequences of her own. Each character in the book is tested to figure out what love really means, and what, in this life, is worth dying for.

Sometimes I think I would die for ice cream. I’m guessing Meg had stronger convictions. I can respect that.
Tell us how fiction and truth intersect in this tale.

Though much of Meg’s story is fictionalized, it is drawn from known facts. The Wyatt family and the Boleyn family were neighbors and friends, and perhaps even distant cousins. Meg’s brother, Thomas Wyatt, wooed Anne Boleyn and ultimately came very close to the axe blade for it. Meg was Anne’s Mistress of the Robes–she got to buy all of those amazing gowns! Two Wyatt sisters attended Anne at her death, and at her death, she gave one of them her jeweled prayer book. That sister was Meg.

Where did the inspiration for this book come from?

As a lifelong Tudorphile and historical novel devourer, I was the nerdy girl in the corner devouring a Victoria Holt or Jean Plaidy book, pages stained with Dorito dust, as I sat and read for hours. I remember my grandmother looking through my books, making sure they were okay for me to read.

You also have written for teens.

I’ve loved writing for teens, and I still do, and because I admire France adn enjoy baking, the French Twist series was pure pleasure to write. But my heart and head has always been firmly in historicals as a reader. Right now I want to spend my fiction-writing time writing what I most love to read. That would be historical novels based on true people and/or events.

Tell us about your research process. What was your most interesting discovery?

I’ve been reading Tudor books my entire life, but I have help off on reading any Tudor fiction while planning and writing this series so my historical conjectures didn’t riff off anyone else’s. I did, however, read about two dozen nonfiction books, lots of historical papers which my historical researcher dug up from the British Library and other places. And of course, I spent two week sin England, visiting Hever Castle and Hampton Court and hanging out in the Tower of London. Rough life.

Yes, I feel really sorry for you, having to travel all that way for research. While doing this burdensome research, did you discover anything unexpected?

I loved, for example, the Eavesdroppers, little faces,almost like softened gargoyles, carved into the high eaves of the Great Hall at Hampton Court Palace. Both men’s and women’s faces; they looked soft and sweet. But they were there to remind courtiers that someone was always listening, there was always a secondary audience to anything said at court, and that behind a pleasant face coudl be a heart of malice. I think it’s interesting, too, that being a servant or highborn attendant was a position of honor. Your status wasn’t determined by the job or tasks assigned to you, but by the rank of hte person you served. That’s good for us to remember, too, as Christians.

What’s the most important theme in the book?

There are some people, and some things, worth dying for. You might be called upon to do just that, so choose wisely and live well.

If they made To Die For into a movie, who would your cast be?

Jordana Brewster as Anne. Alexis Bledel as Meg. Toby Stephens as Henry, and Ryan Reynods as Will. (ScarJo, what were you thinking?)

Seriously, was she nuts? And then to date Sean Penn? Scarlet…girl. So what are your favorite songs this week?

“Unbreakable” by Bon Jovi and “Old Man” by Redlight King.

Interesting picks! I didn’t see those coming. Okay, Sandra, you stumble upon a time machine. The very one Lisa T. Bergren did not want to climb into because she likes her 2011. Where does it take you?

Much too easy. England, circa 1375-1700. Anything before then is too far back, anything before is practically modern day!

Where can readers find you?
Come visit me at www.sandrabyrd.com, where I promise not to serve roast swan or jellied eels if you walk through my castles and palaces page.

Thank you so much for visiting us, Sandra. I feel smarter just talking to you and am so excited to read To Die For. Readers, to get in the running for a copy of To Die For, you have through Sunday July 17th to leave a comment and answer this question: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG THIS WEEK? Winner drawn from your brilliant responses and announced July 18th.

AND don’t forget, if you comment on all six MYFASE blog posts (June 27-July 11),  you’ll ALSO be in the running for an ARC of There You’ll Find Me AND a $25 dollar Barnes and Noble card, in addition to any other books you win these two weeks of book/author fabulousness.  Winner of THAT contest announced July 18th as well. Lots to give away around here, and thanks for joining us for this summer of freebies!

62 comments