My third teen novel, now in progress, is flavored by the ultra-paranoid mindset that saturated our country in the days immediately following 9/11. In creating that flavor, I researched trivia about President George W. Bush this morning.
I now know, thanks to the always credible Internet, that Bush’s SAT score was 1260, Read More…
Even if my second novel, BIG MOUTH, wasn’t about competitive eating, this news would’ve caught my eye: Joey Chestnut just ate 103 hamburgers in 8 minutes to win the Krystal Square Off IV World Hamburger Eating Championship.
You read that right: 103 hamburgers in 8 minutes. That’s a world record. Or does that go without saying? 23-year-old “Jaws” Chestnut’s win broke the 97-burger record set by three-time champion Takeru “Tsunami” Kobayashi. Funny how 97 burgers sounds paltry now.
And there’s my real interest—the quashing of Tsunami’s records, one by one. Tsunami is the inspiration/hero/nemesis for 14-year-old Sherman “Thuff Enuff” Thuff, the main character in Big Mouth. Read More…
Three blog posts in a row about the firestorm, eh? Hmm, things are getting awfully serious around here. Enough! It’s time we started laughing again—after all, laughter is the best medicine. And what better way to get a laugh than at my expense? So, here’s a little Halverson adventure from a few months ago. Yes, there are some flames in it, but it should transition us from the sad to the happy. Perhaps you’ll learn a lesson from my story, perhaps you’ll see yourself in it, perhaps you’ll just shake your head and wonder how I got picked to be responsible for three impressionable young humans. . . . Read More…
As I sit here writing the account of my family’s adventures during San Diego’s Firestorm 2007, I do so with tears in my eyes. The stress of the crisis really wasn’t overwhelming during our seven hours of driving around San Diego looking for refuge—though it did flare up here and there much like the fire itself. And the stress really didn’t do much more than rear its head the morning after our arrival at Casa Murrillo, the home of a triplet family who’d welcomed us with open arms. It’s really now, fully forty-eight hours after we originally waved goodbye to our house near the lake, that I’m feeling most overwhelmed, for just minutes ago I crossed a parking lot and spotted four firefighters on a break from battling the flames. I shouted out to them and waved, hollering a huge “Thank you!” They waved back and said a simple “Your welcome. Stay safe!” and I choked up instantly. Goosebumps ran up my arms, and the reality of what could’ve been hit me. My family is so very lucky. Read More…
It’s unsettling, the sight of a police car cruising your street, its bullhorn announcing a voluntary evacuation of your neighborhood as flames dance in the distance. That’s what we faced four years ago, during San Diego’s Firestorm 2003. We chose to stay in our new home then, opting to hold out for a “mandatory evacuation” order that luckily never came. The lake a few miles from our house stopped the fire, a sacrificial natural barrier, confirming the wisdom of our decision.
This Monday, though, at three o’clock on the second day of San Diego’s Firestorm 2007, I wasn’t feeling nearly so wise. Read More…
We’ve spent the last 24 hours driving all over San Diego, our “key” belongings packed in our minivan as we drove from one “safe location” to another. In essence, we’ve had a motor tour of San Diego’s Firestorm 2007. But now, even though we smell of smoke and our limbs sag with weariness, we are once again in our own home, safe and sound. Read More…
For the second time in four years, San Diego is one big bonfire, with small patches of unburned quiet in which hundreds of thousands cower. My parents are among those who are on the run. Just last night, we’d considered their home our haven should we need to flee. Now we are the ones in our home, and they are in the hands of fate, unable to reach our house due to the road closures and fire walls.
As of now, the Halversons have not been told to evacuate, and are staying put as instructed. But we are packed and ready to flee within minutes of the order.
I don’t know what the days ahead hold, but I’ll have my laptop and try to be responsive to everyone. Thanks for all the emails of concern that I’ve received so far.
Wish San Diego luck.
Biological Billboards. Human Directionals. Banner Shakers. Sign Twirlers. Whatever you call them, they’re eye-catching. And they’re in Honk If You Hate Me. Read More…
I’ve lied to my husband for seventeen years. It’s a white lie, the kind that doesn’t cause nightly tossing and turning, but it’s a lie nonetheless: I told him that I like being short. That being 5-ft 1-inch tall is a good thing, way better than being tall. The proof I offered? On our walks, I walk right under low tree branches. Now isn’t that nice? And in our house, its no problem for me to crawl under furniture to extract wayward crawling triplets. And the balls that roll under the cars in the driveway are easily slithered to when you’re my size, too. It’s darn handy, being diminutive.
However, there are disadvantages: Read More…
It’s true, triplets have a special connection. I witness it in action every day.
If you give my trio a whole yard to play in, they will inevitably clump together. Give them a kitchen or living room, they’ll do the same. This was true when they were little and did only side-by-side play as well. They get so close sometimes that they overlap, crawl across each others’ limbs, and even run toys right over each others’ heads. The human drawbridge of the moment rarely squawks about that. In fact, he often giggles.
The biggest clue-in to their deep bond comes when you try to separate them. This is not easily done. Read More…
Being a writer hurts. In my efforts to finish Teen Novel #3, my “momoir,” my website revamp, my promo materials, and get my freelance editing caught up while raising my triplets as a work-at-home mom, I’ve given up sleep. And that’s barely an exaggeration. Take last night, for example: I got just four hours of shut-eye, on the generous side. This morning my body hurts. Really, physically hurts. I think I may have a head cold, too, but that’s beside the point—which is that I’m suffering from sustained sleep deprivation. Again. Read More…
Apparently our homeowners warranty has expired. I know this because less than a week after we spent $500 for new garage door springs, two light switches near our bathroom failed within hours of each other. Unwilling to risk electrical shock and death or other similarly permanent damage, we opted to call in a trained electrician.
Enter ALEX THE ELECTRICIAN. Read More…
Move over, Tractor Man. You’ve been replaced! There’s a new superhero in town, and he doesn’t wear a black ballcap with a CATerpillar logo. No, THIS hero of small boys wears thick black gloves and a tan shirt with a patch that reads “JOSH”.
He is THE GARAGE DOOR REPAIRMAN. Read More…
Last night I hung out with a great bunch of girls in a beautiful home built in 1893. Girl Scout Troop #6493 invited friends, moms, teachers, and a dad to join us in that grand house atop the hill for an evening of book talk, bookmark making, and cookies and lemonade.
I’ve always loved talking with readers. In the past, it was through my role as an editor of the books they’d loved. Now, I get to talk to them about the book I’d written. They thanked me for coming, but the the biggest thanks were from me to them, for inviting me. I don’t think they know just how cool it is to have people excited about your book. Read More…
I love words. The sound of them, the way they make my mouth twist and my tongue roll, the way I can simply change the stress on a word to give it the exact opposite meaning. Few things are more tantalizing to me than stringing together a new combination of words to create a thought that’s never been uttered before, at least not in quite that way, and which would never have been uttered had I not existed. It makes me heady just to mull that power. Words are like a drug—I’m totally addicted.
And now my 2.5-year-old triplets are hooked, too. Yes! Read More…