EJ Axelsson (Formerly EJ Valson)'s Blog

 On the edge of 44

In less than seven hours it will be my 44th birthday. In years past I'd always made some goal for my next birthday. It was typically centered around my body―my weight, more specifically. This year I just wanted to feel good in my body. And tomorrow I’m celebrating so much more than that. 

I had a goal at the beginning of 2023―I wanted to stop accepting the unacceptable. I needed to put myself back in the driver seat and take control of what only I could…my inner peace and my ability to operate happily in a world that I ultimately cannot control.

This ambitious mindset was not without its challenges and it certainly isn't complete. I've made some hard and drastic decisions work wise, and it has negatively affected our finances in the short term, but I know that will pass. It always does. 

The healing and introspection I've forced myself to do even if it required me to be vulnerable and admit my wrongs has been "interesting." The expanding of comfort zones and self-talk has been rocky, but then something clicked.

I found gratitude. So much fucking gratitude. I realized that all of these moments that seem mundane and miniscule are moments that I'll long for later on, so I'd better appreciate them now. 

I looked at all of the people who've shown up to share the love they feel for me through their actions and time as a testimony of what I mean to them. And I started loving the parts of myself I concealed out of fear of rejection. 

Last night my husband and I had an expensive dinner at a swanky place. I decided to be brave and wear lingerie under my outfit. Mind you, this is an undergarment I'd tried on months before and at the time I picked my appearance apart.

But when I put it on this time, I proudly exclaimed "Look at me!" to my husband. I couldn't believe it came out of my mouth. I found nothing in the mirror to criticize―I rejected any negative thoughts. Progress.

After getting dressed, I hustled out of the house to avoid any opportunity to look in the mirror and obsess over a wrinkle or another imperfection I could manifest. Instead I choose to stay in the moment and make a memory with my husband.

We had a wonderful dinner eating, drinking and talking about our hopes and goals for the next year. We made a quick stop at our oldest daughter's apartment on the way home. I know, not much of a sexy night, but the fact that I could call a twenty-two-year-old up on a Saturday night and she excitedly told me to stop by is another affirmation of how lucky I am.

After the short visit we drove home with the windows down, music up loud and wind blowing through our hair as we headed toward the golden hour sunset.

Once home I freshened up for part two―dance party in our underwear. My husband indulged me, but it had been my plan all along. As of late, I've found a reason to incorporate dance into my life every day. Music is to be enjoyed and it feels so good to celebrate it. So for this occasion, I pre-made a special playlist.

We had the house to ourselves with exception of our big black lab, but even he got into the festivities. And for the next few hours we were young and free without any obligations. Happily in our bubble of fun and relaxation. And we slow danced. I don't think in 17 years, we've actually ever slow danced, as we had a courthouse wedding and no real reception. But last night, we did.

We wound down the evening with some chips and TV and called it an earlier night than I expected. This morning we enjoyed a walk with the dog and a quiet start to the day. And I just can't stop thinking about last night. I can't stop reminiscing about the way it felt the moment I realized that for the first time in my life, I FINALLY feel good being me. 

Happy 44th, Emy J. Happy Birthday to me.

I don't pretend to know more than I do about who I am and where I came from. Some days I feel guilty about this, like I didn't ask enough questions or pay attention when stories were being told. I worry that those I rely on for ancestral information will be gone and I'll have no point of reference. My history will be intangible, just like my grandparents, and the bits of the foundation that created our family will vanish.

But today the fact that I have always been what I consider an "in-betweener" was magnified in a painful way and brought to the surface many insecurities I felt growing up. Someone I know posted on social media that you cannot consider yourself Mexican if you don't speak Spanish. 

I'm the proud granddaughter of Mexican immigrants. As children, both of my father’s parents migrated across the border for a safer land with more promise. It was no easy venture, but in many ways a much simpler process than today. I'm ever so aware that their parents worked hard to assimilate and raise their families in the Merced Valley. 

My grandparents married when my grandma was 19 and within 12 years she birthed five boys, took care of her husband and home, attended church like a good Catholic and worked at the local cannery and chicken processing plant. My grandfather served in World War II, worked in garlic fields, did other manual labor, started the first local all Mexican baseball league and continued to work hard even after he suffered a heart attack when my father was 14. In all honesty, I'm not sure about all of what he did, but I can tell you that his funeral had standing room only inside their local Catholic church. The sight of a church filled to the brim with people I had never met in his honor made me realize there was much I did not know about him. He was a very quiet, humble man. Soft spoken, clean cut and had a special way of speaking I couldn't imitate if I tried. I've been told he wasn't always this way, especially as my father was growing up, but I assume that much of my grandmother's strong will and fighting spirit tamed that out of him. All I remember of them together was unity. He was her world. 

They were my only living grandparents. They were all I knew for family. Every major holiday or vacation was spent at their home four hours away in the tiny town of Livingston. They had a very small two bedroom one bath home, with a deep back yard. The kitchen was my grandma's area and you best move along quickly through it while she was cooking. 

The dining table took up much of the living space, but that was necessary to host everyone. And the small living room had just enough space for the adults to sit and watch sporting events on a modest television. There were no bells and whistles. Everything in their home was earned. It wasn't overly decorated or gaudy. It was simple and functional, but it was full of some of my favorite people when we’d visit.

I was blessed to have tons of cousins, most of them had siblings and I was basically an only child. My older sister was the first grandchild and was often looked up to by my cousins. I was an oddball--but I didn't care, I loved being around them all and envied their sibling relationships. 

Music and food were big in my grandparent’s home. It could be anything from Motown to Mariachi. The food was the center of it all. Whether it be tamales at Christmas, pork in the ground at my uncle’s or the most simple pleasure of my grandma's homemade beans, fresh tortilla's and a glass of Sunny Delight (a favorite comfort food to this day). And the sounds of my grandma and grandpa speaking Spanish to each other in passing---these are some of my favorite memories. It felt like a whole different world from the one I knew daily. It had different music, culture, food, scenery. Sounds and smells were different, and at that time it was as close as I was going to get for quite some time to anything international. And I loved being a part of it, even if I didn't truly feel like I blended in. Because in many ways, I didn't.

We didn't speak Spanish in our house. Why would we? And my grandparents reserved that for when they didn't want the kids to know what they were saying, or if they were speaking to each other in passing. To this day, I'm unsure about how many of my cousins actually know Spanish, it was not something we spoke or were encouraged to learn to speak. After all, in the 1980's, the thought of America becoming bilingual was not on anyone's radar and my grandparents had to assimilate and teach their children the same if they were going to "make it" in America. 

There were no dual-immersion schools or bilingual services. The mindset was, you live in America, you speak English. And in that, some cultural preservation was sacrificed in the name of survival and success. What we have available today was never foreseen by my parents, and especially not my grandparents. 

To be clear, I wasn't raised to be ashamed of my heritage. But beyond the traditional food, religion, music and celebratory nature, I wasn't encouraged to preserve it either, because at the time, no one anticipated that it would be necessary or beneficial. We were Mexican, but we were American. The journey for that to be wasn't easy for my grandparents. I do not blame or resent that mindset. It's unfortunate, but I understand it. 

I grew up in a VERY small town in Northern California---not like Bay Area Northern, but Shasta County, Northern. I often say I grew up in Redding because people know where that is, but in actuality, I lived in the small town of Anderson eight miles south, in a rural neighborhood. We were in a very small, right-wing area with little amenities. It still mystifies me to this day how my six foot tall, very brown, enigmatic Dad liked it there, made so many friends and never appeared to let his race be an issue. 

Because I lived in a very white town, I didn't meet another Mexican kid until middle school and coincidentally enough, he had the same last name as I did, so everyone thought we were brother and sister. Even with my last name being obviously Hispanic, I was often white-passing or occasionally mistaken for Italian. 

One of my first encounters with racism was at the age of 11, hearing a popular girl use a slang term for Mexicans on the bus home from school one day. From an early age I was taught two words that were NOT OKAY when referring to Mexicans and she used one of them. I was horrified, embarrassed, angry and sad. I wanted to stand up for myself and my family, but I was too afraid. 

When we moved out of California and to Oregon when I was a teenager, I thought the bigger town would offer more culture. But over the course of my high school years I was called "Juan" by a couple of "friends" and didn't feel like I could relate to the small group of Latin students who had recently transplanted from Southern California because I didn't speak Spanish. I was once told by a friend that I wasn't "that kind of Mexican" because she was used to only agricultural workers. I wasn't Mexican enough to be Mexican, and I wasn't White enough to not be. But regardless, my family was my favorite part about me. Any chance to be with them was special. Any celebration was made that much better because of how celebratory we were, the food we ate, the music we danced. We were different from any other family I knew and any of the friends I took with me to visit my family always noticed the difference, but in the best way.

It wasn't until I was nearing my 20s that being bilingual started to become popular, and in many ways, an asset. Local schools had dual-immersion to cater to the growing Latin population. Businesses were hiring Spanish speakers and more of the Hispanic culture was immersing itself--FINALLY! But I was complacent. I tried to learn Spanish from books and tapes and quickly gave up because I couldn't pronounce things correctly. And regardless of the societal changes, I still encountered racism from those who thought they were in the presence of another white person. If they didn't understand name origin, or had never met my dad, they wouldn't know I was anything else. But then there was also the flip side. On occasion, if someone found out I was Mexican, they would expect me to speak Spanish, and when I couldn't, they were shocked as if I should and made fun of me for being a bad Mexican. Hence, the role of the "in-betweener."

Now reading all this, you might think that I'm a whiner and it's quite possible I am. You might also wonder, what the hell this rambling is about. Let me get back to my first point. Because in all honesty, this entire blog post is all one large justification for why I am the way I am, and also to let the person who so ignorantly posted a rant about someone not being allowed to call themselves Mexican if they don't speak Spanish or are immersed in their culture enough that statements like that alienate allies and those like me (there are plenty of us) who were born into a time when we didn't know there would be so much space, reliance and acknowledgement of the Latin community and their heritage. 

We didn't know speaking more than English, which generations like my grandparents' were told they needed to speak, would be encouraged. They also worked very hard to immerse themselves, there weren't easily accessible English classes, books or immersion courses, other than a society they were forced to blend into--so I'm sure you can understand why they felt it was so important that their children and their grandchildren knew how to properly speak, read and write the language of the country they lived in. They were worried if they didn't follow suit, they would be chastised. My grandmother didn't make it past the eighth grade and she moved the USA at ten. That should tell you all you need to know about how hard it was for her to go to school when it was all in English and she was still learning the language. I can only imagine that struggle enforced her sentiments, that she didn't want her own children to suffer the same. 

It's true that I could probably be a "better" Mexican. I could learn more about my ancestors and the state from where they came from. I could take a Spanish course or two. But what I can tell you is that where I came from and who my family is, is so important to me that it has influenced by oldest daughter to take Spanish all through high school. She has more Mexican friends than I ever had. She sings in Spanish, loves Spanish music and has an affection for Latin culture. But she too felt the influence and specialness of our family and our Hispanic roots. That has never been withheld. 

I have often joked that I am the "Whitest Mexican" I know. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, to beat someone else to the punch, but it's not true. I deeply value my heritage, my parents, my grandparents and my ancestors who sacrificed and struggled to live the American Dream. I cry for those who still try to obtain it and are met with horrific prejudices and treatment. I pray that the decisiveness and racism will end. And I hope that those who feel someone isn't "enough" of something to identify with it understand that they are being counterproductive in their fight for injustice towards the Latin community. 

 
The following post has been making its way around social media. And, I think we are all getting exhausted from the rhetoric from both sides.

Dear Trump Supporters; Let’s have a conversation, time to clear some things up about what you believe below.

“If you are a liberal who can’t stand Trump, and cannot possibly fathom why anyone would ever vote for him, let me fill you in.

It’s not that we love Donald Trump so much. It’s that we can’t stand you.

And we will do whatever it takes — even if that means electing a rude, obnoxious, unpredictable, narcissist (your words not ours) to the office of President of the United States — because the thing we find more dangerous to this nation than Donald Trump is YOU.
 
How is that possible you might ask?

Well, you have done everything in your power to destroy our country.
From tearing down the police, to tearing down our history, to tearing down our borders.
From systematically destroying our schools and brainwashing our kids into believing socialism is the answer to anything (despite being an unmitigated failure everywhere), while demonizing religion and faith, and glorifying abortion, violence, and thug culture.
 
From calling us racists every time we expect everyone of any skin color to follow our laws equally to gaslighting us about 52 genders, polyamory, grown men in dresses sharing public locker rooms with little girls, and normalize the sexualization of young children, you simultaneously ridicule us for having the audacity to wish someone a “Merry Christmas” or hang a flag on the 4th of July, stand for the national anthem, or (horror of horrors) don a MAGA hat in public.
 
So much for your “tolerance.”
(See why we think you are just hypocrites??)

What is described above is the FAKE NEWS that keeps being peddled. So let me clarify how many of us feel.

Many of us respect law enforcement and the risk that is taken when choosing to serve and protect. But the fact that we have good cops leaving the force due to the corruption and infiltration of cops who have power complexes and are not adhering to their oath, should tell you that we are not the only ones seeing the corruption. We want accountability, better resources and for our cops not to be the only option for a mental health call that they are not qualified to handle.
 
Our schools are being destroyed because funding is continuously pulled from them and budgets for administration are inflated. We have a Secretary of Education whose children are in private schools, has multiple homes and a yacht, tell me how she can relate to working class parents? Not to mention, out of the top ten states for the worst education, 8 of those are Red States. Ask your local legislators why that is.
 
No one is demonizing your faith, many of us are also religious. We are questioning how you can align a man who exploits your faith for his own gain, with Christian Values. He has a repeated record of lying, stealing and cheating. Values that the bible refers to as sins.
 
I am not sure which Liberals you are referring to that are OK with a grown man sharing a locker room with a young girl, but I personally don’t let any adults (besides myself) be around my children when they’re dressing. To insinuate that we don’t value our children the same as you is asinine. However, for the little boy who feels like he’s in the wrong body at the age of 8 and feels suicidal, I will make concessions to save that child and try to understand his plight. A sexual predator is another thing and on that note, I would ask why you are not more disturbed by the flight logs that Trump’s name is on for planes to Jeffrey Epstein’s island. Or the fact that he’s said would date his own daughter if she were not his. Or the fact that he says it’s OK to “grab a woman by the P&$$@” Rest assured that I am not OK with ANY politician normalizing this behavior, Left or Right. You shouldn’t be either.
 
Abortion is nothing to glorify, it’s something to prevent through common sense measures. Perhaps if we hadn’t shut down the very organizations that offer comprehensive birth control methods at little to no cost, we would be able to prevent abortion. But you chose to focus on 3% of their services, which were NOT federally funded. I agree, abortion should not be used as a birth control method and only in circumstances of rape or medical necessity. So let’s find a way, together, to prevent those procedures by actually educating our children on sex education and making sure they have methods to protect themselves, not just from unwanted pregnancies, but diseases that could cause their death.
 
And Christmas? I love Christmas, I say “Merry Christmas.” I do all that Christmas stuff, cookies, Santa, the tree, you freaking name it, and I’m doing it! But I also have respect for other cultures who just like most of us, have immigrant origin. And just like I respect your faith (which did NOT originate in America) I choose to respect theirs as well by saying Happy Holidays. I don’t consider it a “War On Christmas.” It’s not, it’s a sign of respect that you yourself are asking for.

And the American Flag? I have ZERO problem with honoring our country. What I do have a problem with is its being hijacked by right wing ideology of those who also fly the traitor flag in unison. Yes, the confederate flag is Anti-American. As it was flown by an opposing side who wanted to separate from AMERICAN COLONIES. To fly it is contradictory to your message when you’re trying to show pride for OUR country. Let’s all fly the flag and not attribute it to one side or the other, let’s reclaim it as a sign of unity on our common goal to live amongst each other, even if we live differently. Isn’t that what our nation was founded upon?



We’re also not interested in the fact that you think you can unilaterally decide that 250 years of the right-to-bear-arms against a tyrannical or ineffective government should be abolished because you can’t get the violence in the cities you manage under control. That free-speech should be tossed out the window, and that those who disagree with your opinions are fair game for public harassment or doxing. Those spoiled children with nose-rings and tats who still live off their parent’s dime should be allowed to destroy cities and people's livelihoods without repercussions. That chaos, and lawlessness, and disrespect for authority should be the norm.
This is your agenda. And you wonder why we find you more dangerous than Donald Trump?
 
I am curious why you believe that Liberals are not gun owners? Do you know how many of us there are? Just because we don’t support the NRA which has monetized the 2nd amendment with its own TV channel, which have programs that demonstrate how you can “craft with guns,” is ridiculous. If you are not acknowledging that a gun is a tool to protect yourself and instead, considering it an accessory, this is the problem we are referring to. Instead, what we want is for an acknowledgement that guns are getting into the wrong hands. We have mentally ill and dangerous people out there that are able to legally buy guns with vague vetting in the name of the 2nd Amendment. Without a record they can legally purchase a gun in some states, easier than others. And when we have irresponsible gun owners not properly securing their weapons, we have also given these unbalanced people access to something that can cause mass tragedy. If good gun owners want to keep their rights intact we have to ensure only responsible people have access to them. And “good guys with guns” aren’t preventing any of the things you mention above.
 
As for the spoiled children with tattoos and nose rings who live off their parents, there are plenty of those on the right as well. If you are going to lump peaceful liberal demonstrators with Antifa, then I guess we have the right to lump all Trump Supporters with White Nationalists? By the way, all of what you are describing above have happened on Trump's watch, this was not the way it was prior to his being in office. How is he going to resolve a problem he perpetuates?



Your narrative is a constant drone of oppressor/oppressed race-baiting intended to divide the country in as many ways as you possibly can. You love to sell “victim-hood” to people of color every chance you get because it’s such an easy sell, compared to actually teaching people to stand on their own two feet and take personal responsibility for their own lives and their own communities and their own futures. But you won’t do that, you will never do that, because then you will lose control over people of color. They might actually start thinking for themselves, God forbid!

We don’t have to sell “victim-hood,” as stated above. They ARE victims and they are telling us that. We are just supporting their message just as the Equal Rights Movement has done for decades. You believe “they” can stand on their own two feet, and take personal responsibility. Breonna Taylor is just one of many examples of someone who was doing that. The cops who shot her without cause while she was sleeping, have still not been held accountable. When will you speak to that injustice? Or does it not matter because she is a person of color? Had she been White, I am certain this would have played out differently. And to insinuate that “they” cannot think for themselves because we want to control them, is like saying their race is less intelligent and proving why we believe there's more racism in the Republican party than not. Prove us wrong.



This is why we will vote for Donald Trump.
Not because he is the most charming character on the block.
Not because he is the most polite politician to have ever graced the oval office.
Not because he is the most palatable choice, or because we love his moral character or because the man never lies, but because we are sick to death of you and all of the destructive crap you are doing to this once beautiful and relatively safe country.
Your ineffective and completely dysfunctional liberal “leadership”(?) has literally destroyed our most beautiful cities, our public education system, and done it’s damndest to rip faith out of people’s lives.

I will not fault you for why you voted for him in 2016. He was not your typical career politician that many of us were tired of. MANY of us wanted change for America and Election Day was not easy for us either. It was a lesser of two evils. But at the end of the day, you don’t hire someone without any experience for the very job they are applying for. Hiring Trump to run America without any true understanding of the political system, laws or global relationships was the equivalent of hiring a butcher to be a gynecologist. And to this, I say no one should ever be allowed to run for that position without having served in some political capacity whether that be a Mayor, State Representative, Governor, etc. There has to be a track record of their donors, what they support and what they have voted for so American Voters have something tangible to support their voting decision. Without making these types of changes, we will continue to have people like Kanye West on our ballots. Our democracy is not a joke.




However bad Donald Trump may be, and he is far from perfect, every day we look at you and feel that no matter what Donald Trump says or does there is no possible way he could be any worse for our country than you people are.
We are sick to death of your stupid, destructive, ignorant, and intolerant behavior and beliefs — parading as “wokeness.” We are beyond sick of your hypocrisy and B.S.
We are fed up with your disrespectful divisiveness and constant unrelenting harping and whining and complaining (while you live in the most privileged nation in the world), while making literally zero contributions of anything positive to our society. Your entire focus is on ripping things down, never ever building anything up. Think about that as there is something fundamentally very wrong in the psychology of people who choose destruction as their primary modus operandi.

When Donald J Trump is reelected, don’t blame us, look in the mirror and blame yourselves.

We won’t be doing this either. Why? Because you yourselves had an opportunity to look for a better candidate for your party and support their efforts to take on Trump within his own party in 2020. You’ve acknowledged several points about how you know he is essentially corrupt, but you continue to blame us for the fact that he is President. Your party had a chance to jump off the “Trump Train” and find someone more qualified and reasonable. Had you done so, you might have turned Liberal Voters into Republican Voters. Instead you’ve had many Republican’s jump ship and choose Country over Party, as you always should. Where is your accountability for keeping someone within your own party that you think is terrible? If you don’t believe there is a better candidate within your own party that is not what you described about the President you support, what does that say about Republican values?



Because you are the ones that are responsible for the rise of Donald Trump. You are the ones who have created this "monster" that you so despise, by your very actions. By your refusal to respect your fellow Americans, and the things that are important to us.
 
You have made fun of the “fly-over states,” the people who “cling to their guns and religion,” the middle class factory workers and coal miners and underprivileged rural populations that you dismissively call “yahoos” and “deplorables.” You have mocked our faith and our religion. You have mocked our values and our patriotism. You have trampled our flag and insulted our veterans and treated our first responders with contempt and hatred.
You have made environmentalism your religion, while trashing every city you have taken responsibility for. You scream from the rooftops about “global warming” and a “green new deal” while allowing tens of thousands of homeless people to cover your streets in literal sh!t and garbage and needles and plastic waste without doing a single thing to help them or solve the environmental crisis your failed social policies are creating. But we’re supposed to put YOU in charge of the environment while gutting our entire economy to institute this plan when you can’t even clean up a single city??

You do realize that 3 years, ago the “threats” you claim today were not so. You were instilled with irrational fear in order to obtain your votes. Instead rural communities have been greatly impacted by Tariff’s that WE pay for, not China. This left many farmers at risk of losing everything they worked hard for. To fix this, Trump provided bail outs, on YOUR dime to appear he was fixing a problem HE created. And where are the factories and jobs he promised us? How is rural American thriving under his reign?
 
Many of us are Veterans, love Veterans and support Veterans. Instead he's taken credit for a Bill to support Veterans that John McCain, also a Veteran which Trump insulted before and after his death, actually wrote. And back to my point of track records, Biden has voted more than not on bills that support Veterans, as his own son was a war Veteran. Instead, you defend a man who’s draft-dodged multiple times and whose sons did not serve themselves And you’re OK with him insulting Veterans? How is that Patriotic?
 
Yes, let’s speak about that homelessness and trash on the streets. Let’s talk about the fact that during the Reagan administration the War on Drugs was the start of punishing, not rehabilitating. We have privatized prison systems, which are money making machines. We have depleted funds for mental hospitals and rehab facilities. Those homeless people are both victims of mental illness and addiction. Many of those addicts are from rural America and small towns that have been plagued by the opioid crisis that was a direct result of pharmaceutical companies pushing drugs and "Dr. Feel Good’s" over-prescribing a drug that proved to be cheaper in the form of heroin after someone had already become addicted to a prescribed medication. Take a look at the funding records of many of these politicians and see who their donors are--follow the money. This is on the Left AND the Right.



You complain — endlessly — yet have failed to solve a single social problem anywhere. In fact, all you have done is create more of them.

We’ve had enough. We are tired of quietly sitting by and being the “silent” majority. So don’t be surprised when the day comes when we finally respond. And trust me it’s coming, sooner than you might think. And also trust me when I say it won’t be pretty. Get ready.

 So let me understand this; You want to engage in a hybrid of a Civil-War/Nazi Germany scenario on American soil against people, you believe, don’t have the same ideals as you? And that adhere's to the Constitution and Bible how? You would choose to do the very thing you’re angry with rioters for doing? Burn down cities, wreck businesses, schools and neighborhoods-- for your ideals? And then what? When you feel you’ve eradicated the Left, their children, and the innocent, you will be satisfied? The fact that you’d be living in a war zone and have destroyed your economy and land in the process, will be OK with you because it was all in the name of your beliefs? You do realize that our Founding Fathers devised the Constitution (you like to bring up a lot) to ensure a balanced system to avoid this kind of upset that they fled from? You’re supporting a dictatorship at this point and the very freedoms that you cherish, are now an illusion.



When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because you and your “comrades” have chosen to trash the police, harass law-abiding citizens, and go on rampages destroying public property that we have all paid for and you have zero respect for.

When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because we are sick of your complete and utter nonsense and destruction. How does it feel to know that half of this country finds you FAR more despicable than Donald J. Trump, the man you consider to be the anti-Christ?

Let that sink in.

We consider you to be more despicable, more dangerous, more stupid, and more narcissistic than Donald Trump. Maybe allow yourself a few seconds of self-reflection to let that sink in. This election isn’t about Donald Trump vs. Joe Biden.

This is about Donald Trump vs YOU.

So if on the morning of November 4 (or more likely January 19, by the time the Supreme Court will weigh in on the mail-in ballot fiasco that we are headed towards), and Donald J. Trump is reelected?
The only people you have to blame is the left-wing media drones and yourselves.
You did this.
Yep you.”

In conclusion, I will state it again. WE DON’T BLAME YOU FOR VOTING HIM INTO OFFICE IN 2016! Many of us were wanting a change, something out of the norm, too. We were tired of political speak and being sold empty promises. We know Middle-America and the working class have been the most impacted for generations because the rich got richer, and the middle got poor, and the poor got poorer. We know, because we have suffered through it too! The truth is, we have no good choices. And they know that. They know that the ones who could actually make the change that we all crave, would affect their bottom line and those who fund their campaign accounts. They have used ALL of us and in the process divided us more than I’ve ever thought possible. When will we take our country back? When will we learn to live in a place where it’s OK to disagree, but at the end of the day, still take care of each other because we care more about our neighbors, than a politician who knows nothing about the life we live. When?

Today a woman was woken up one hour before she needed to be by her three-year-old son, who was hungry. She lovingly took him downstairs, pushed the Brew button on the coffee pot, and fumbled in the dimly lit kitchen as she made her kiddo cereal. 
As the coffee brewed she thought a little Christmas ambiance would be nice. As she bent over to plug in the Christmas tree lights, she heard the sound of brittle pine needles falling off the dying tree onto the presents under it, so the lights remained off in fear of a fire hazard. She must keep this tree alive until Christmas morning, or the magic will be lost.
After sucking down a cup of coffee at record speed, battling with her toddler about his screaming waking up the rest of the house, arguing with her husband about not wiping up water around the rim of the sink that ALWAYS seems to get her shirt wet after he uses it, and sending a now crying toddler on his way to daycare, she finally had an hour to get some work done before taking her middle child to school. 
After the regular school drop off, she thought it would be a good idea to get some errands out of the way. Heading to the grocery store, she tried to keep her spirits up and be pleasant and smile to each person she came across....it's Christmas time....it's the season of joy and hope, right?
Feeling as if she'd annoyed an employee with too many questions about the location of saffron and raisins, she made her way with a cart full of groceries to the checkout stand, where she and a nice cashier had a chat about the holidays and how stressful they can be. Finally, someone she could relate to (she thought), and perhaps she'd made their day by empathizing with them. As she left, she made a point to wish the cashier and the courtesy clerk a Merry Christmas by name and felt a little lighter having made nice conversation. 
While crossing the parking lot to her car, she made sure to smile and wave at the driver of the car who stopped for her. This time of year is stressful on everyone and it's important to be kind, as we never know what someone else is going through. As she loaded her groceries into her trunk, a box of sparkling water cans ripped and one fell on the ground, requiring her to grab it before it rolled away while balancing the half opened water box on her leg. Embarrassed and quickly trying to shove it all in the car, she banged the top of her head on her trunk. Dammit!
After collecting herself, and fighting off tears, though she had no idea why she felt like crying other than her banged head, she made her way to a department store to pick out a western style shirt for her nine-year-old daughter, who needed it for a school Spirit Day. Luckily, she found one and this lifted her spirits. Still trying to be mindful of the holiday spirit, she let an elderly person go ahead of her in line, again waved to thank the person who allowed her to cross the parking lot, stopped at Starbucks for a treat and made her way home while making phone calls for work. 
Finally, home to unload the groceries and devour the egg bites she felt she deserved after all of this. Following this simple moment of pleasure, she began unpacking her bags and noticed the frozen chicken nuggets bag had ripped and she had no idea if it was purchased like this or not. Increasingly annoyed, she tossed the bag into the trash so as to not risk illness in the family, as she'd already spent five days disinfecting and bleaching whatever stomach flu had recently claimed members of her household’s digestive tracts. She would NOT risk food poisoning on top of it, no Sir!
After tossing the nuggets, she grabbed another grocery bag, only to have it rip in half and the contents spill to the floor. As she stared at the mouthwash now lying on the floor, she felt the Holly Jolliness leave her completely and a feeling of defeat overwhelmed her instead. Not even 11:00 am and she felt like small things were piling on. Nothing was going right and interruptions were abundant. She. Was. Done.
Isn't this supposed to be the most magical time of the year? Well, Bing Crosby thought so, because almost on cue, the Pandora app on her smart phone suddenly started playing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" randomly and without initiation on her part, piping through the kitchen and stopping her in her tracks. But rather than feel frightened, or laughing about this unwelcomed event, she glared with despise at her phone. No, Bing! This is NOT the most wonderful time of the year! And it may LOOK a lot like Christmas, thanks to her ability to make Christmas magic with the tree, lights, peppermint scented wax melts, presents under the tree, cozy blankets, Christmas-themed pillows, and garlands galore, but Mom isn't feeling the frickin' magic....Mom is feeling EXHAUSTED!!!!
And this, folks, is the moment in which I felt like finding a green fuzzy Grinch costume, hiking up to the top of a hill and hiding out until the spring. This woman is me. But I can't help but feel like this woman is many of us. 
This is honestly the time of year I get most excited about. But then somewhere in the midst of all the "magic" I feel tired, frustrated, inadequate and OVER IT! I've been told to "stop doing so much" and "no one is asking you to do these things." But that's the whole point...no one HAS to ask. They’re simply done, by us, and if they are NOT done, then we are asked, when will it be done, or how come it wasn't done? 
Apparently, some time ago, let's say about 18 years ago, when I committed to being THAT mom, I set a precedent for how Christmas would be in our house for the rest of eternity. If I missed even ONE "tradition" that I had done before, something was off and the holiday just wasn't the same. Being a people-pleaser, I’ve had a hard time not living up to the expectations I set for myself that now others hold for me as well. That. Sucks. And now I’m feeling like the scroogiest Scrooge there ever was. I want to throw the dying tree out into the street, unwrap all the presents just to expedite this damn holiday, and then take a LONG winter’s nap until it's warm enough to go outside without a parka.
But instead, I’ll take a deep breath and remind myself that even though I feel like day drinking martinis and binge watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, this is often NOT the most wonderful time of the year and I am not alone in that feeling. Even more than that, I’m actually blessed to have these problems. Being fortunate doesn’t mean I can’t feel stressed or a little depressed. It doesn’t negate those feelings. But it does put into perspective how my “problems” could be someone else’s desires.
I GOT to get up with my kids and husband today. I GOT to go buy groceries, clothes and a Starbucks coffee. I GOT to come home and despise my smart phone for eerily playing Christmas music as I was having a "Merry Meltdown" over chicken nuggets. I GET the opportunity and privilege to make "Christmas Magic" for my family, and so many others do not. 
So what does that mean for my feelings of anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion over the holiday? It doesn't make them nonexistent, but it does remind me that there are many who have bigger stresses than making a holiday a giant explosion of wonderfulness, like even having Christmas or any of the privileges that many of us find mundane.
Truth is, I'll continue to try and make it the most "magical" time of the year for those I love, and it will be work for another week. And then next year, I'll get excited, forgetting how much work it is (like childbirth) and be ready to do it all over again like a damn fool, if I still have the good fortune to do so.
This time of year is hard for many, for various reasons. I'm not ignorant of that fact and even more aware of it now as I write my blog filled with "First World Problems." But my hope, in the TRUE spirit of this season, is that each and every one of you who may also be struggling with the "Jingle Bell Blues" or anything else happening in your life right now, finds some solace in knowing that this is literally just a season. And if you have the ability to help another or to see past the "bah-humbug" that may reside in another and have a little compassion as to what they may be going through, you will. 
My thoughts are with all of you this year and I wish you all a very Happy Holiday and a prosperous New Year.
Cheers!
EJ

I'm not sure if it's the time change or just change in general, but lately I've been feeling distracted and slightly overwhelmed by the daily nuances, and never feeling fully accomplished. Most days, I honestly feel like a giant "B." Trying to find the small victories can be hard, especially when you have children of various ages telling you you're not doing something right in one form or another. Whether it be a tantrum, the silent treatment, or out right telling you they aren't pleased with a choice you've made for them. Combine that with trying to be a good partner, employee or both, and it's a doozy at times.

While taking a quick shower this morning, I was interrupted by two fighting children. As I did my best to hide behind a glass shower door from the small, bickering privacy invaders, I found myself shouting back at them. And just like that, my morning quickly turned into chaos and rising blood pressure. After I composed myself and washed the soap out of my hair, it dawned on me that I'm soooo not the Mom I want to be. Or should I say, expected I'd be.

I always assumed I'd be a "super-mom." Loving, fun, cool, energetic, but firm when necessary. I'd like to say I'm those things at times, but usually it's in small spurts fueled by a nap or coffee. I've been a parent for almost 19 years and even with all this experience under my belt, I'm still a work in progress. I've already gotten one through high school, but her going into adulthood has been one of the hardest periods yet. I also have a toddler and a nine year old--it's not for the birds either. It's hard work, mentally, emotionally and physically.

I should stress that I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm a blessed woman, who's been fortunate enough to have most everything I had desired growing up. A loving husband, three healthy and mostly happy kids, but still feel like I come up short a lot. And I often wonder, "Am I wrong to feel this way? Am I being ridiculous? Am I just never satisfied?" All of those shaming thoughts just make me feel worse.

A lot of us feel pressure to be a combo of Betty Crocker, Alice Brady, Marilyn Monroe, Rosie the Riveter, a PTA-soccer mom, and whomever else we assume has their crap together. But who's really asking that of us? Somewhere along the line I began to believe, even though I was not raised this way, that if I was all of these ideals, my life would be perfect. I'd have a perfect marriage, happy kids, beautiful home, etc. I have no idea where I got this from, but I'm pretty sure I'm enabling this belief. Even something as small as another mom inadvertently criticizing the plates I provided for a class party, can press that doubt button within me and make me feel inadequate. That's not her fault, I allowed it to bug me, (side note--don't be that mom) but it still feeds into my insecurities, regardless.

So how do I make this stop? How do I get to being OK with my short-comings? Meditation, alcohol, Zumba, therapy, massage, humor....all of the above? Ladies, I have not the slightest clue. But what I do believe, and so should you other Mama's, is that ---- YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS! For every morning that you got up, had a cup of coffee and then everything went to crap by 9:00 am-- you are not alone. For every well-intentioned moment you had that imploded--you are not alone. For every time you've cried in the shower, car or closet, because you've felt like a failure--you are not alone. 
After the shower incident and my negative self-talk and doubt casting about what I'm doing wrong, I came to the realization that there's no way I'm alone in this feeling. No mom is. And I believe the issue stems from expecting WAY too much from ourselves. I've decided that I'm going to commit to being a little easier on myself. It's time for all of us to put away those meaningless motherhood "goals" and focus on the basics. "Do my kids have food in their bellies? Do they have clothes on their backs and a roof over their head? Do they know that I love them?" If we can answer, "YES," to those simple questions, then we're doing good so far. 
We aren't always going to get the recognition we deserve or immediate gratification. And praise is often short-lived. We may not pack the right snacks, get to school on time, go on all the field-trips, or bring the right plates, but dammit, at least we try. If we snap a little, make a boxed dinner because we're too fried from the day, stay in the bathroom longer just to get a few extra minutes of "alone time," we are NOT failures. We are just one woman trying to be several, and that's a lot of pressure. The PTA can wait, the play-dates aren't mandatory and the few extra pounds on the scale will not kill us. Most importantly, at the end of the day our kids will still love us regardless.

Today, on my 40th Birthday, I woke up with an excitement in my belly. A sense of adventure and change on the horizon, combined with a deep sense of appreciation to be right where I am, now resides within.
The last ten years flew by like whiplash. Didn't I just turn 30? Wasn't I just stuck in that spot of wanting, needing, hoping, for things I'd felt I hadn't yet obtained? More stability, more children, a better house, more love in my marriage. More.
I remember turning thirty very well. I was delighted by multiple celebrations put on by friends and family to commemorate my milestone. Grand gestures meant to make me feel special and loved, which they did, took place. But, even then I still wanted more and it was nothing that any of my friends or family could provide to me--I had to find that on my own. 
I'm so very lucky--the luckiest. When I was young, I'd unknowingly put out into the universe exactly what I wanted. A loving husband, children, stability and safety. It may sound bland and boring, but for me, that was a big dream of mine. I was basically an only child, and though my childhood was mostly happy and stable, there were fractures in that foundation I believed I could mend by having my own family.
I spent most of my teen years rushing my life, making poor choices and trying to tie up that package. By twenty-five, I found myself a divorced single mom of the most amazing little girl. I had no formal education, but was a hard worker and I was blessed to stumble into an administrative position that offered me more than I could have ever thought possible.
By the end of my twenty's, I was pleasantly surprised to find a best friend and my greatest love story in a Swedish intern, four years my junior. I spent two years in a long-distance relationship with someone that I'd put all my faith and hope into. It was one of the hardest, scariest and patience-testing periods of my life. And in the end, love won.
At thirty-one I gave birth to our baby girl. She was my dream come into fruition. Before turning thirty, I had the worst case of "Baby Fever." My husband was hesitant, scared and apprehensive, but when she was born, he fell in love. And I fell more in love with him as I watched him become the most amazing father. 
The following years proved to be strenuous for us career wise, financially and emotionally. My husband and I worked for the same company, and when things took a turn for the worst, my instinct to control EVERYTHING took over, and that took a toll on me mentally, emotionally and physically. Some days I can't even remember certain parts of my youngest daughter’s life. It’s as if I was absent. Thankfully, home videos and pictures have proven otherwise--lessening my guilt. But it is still a broken blur.
By thirty-five things were better and I thought we were settled. Our only new adventure was my husband’s decision to work full-time while taking on an MBA program. We believed this would be the thing that would catapult us to financial stability and a better quality of life. He was committed to succeeding and I was committed to supporting him by taking on more of the "everyday" duties, and working part-time. Our oldest was going into high school, our youngest into Kindergarten and we were in a good place. 
Spring of 2016, we got a VERY big surprise with a positive pregnancy test. This was NOT in our "plan." We thought we were done, and had taken most measures to prevent this. We were even talking vasectomy for him before we found ourselves expecting again. 
From the moment I found out, I knew it was a boy. Everything felt different. I was thirty-eight and committed to, in my words, "Rocking this pregnancy." I was not going to let my body fall apart like it had six years earlier. I was not going to come out of it with pain and stress. I wanted this to be better. I wanted to look and feel better. And I did. 
Our "bonus-baby," was born around 1:00 am, post-election night. I joke that my labor was high-jacked by election coverage. My mom, sister, husband and oldest daughter sat watching live coverage on TV, phones or laptops, while I patiently waited (pain-free thanks to my epidural) for our lives to change for the better. 
Our hearts grew exponentially when our son arrived. I always worried I wouldn't be able to love one more, the way I loved my first two. But that's not how this works--your heart expands and makes room. All of our hearts expanded and made room. Our family became better.
The next two years rushed by, but were not dull or uneventful. We worked hard, but enjoyed each and every milestone. Proms, drivers licenses, first jobs, birthdays, holidays--we took it all in. We celebrated our ten year wedding anniversary, and then our eleventh. And with each passing day, we knew we were getting closer to a change. 
I knew a year ago that it was time to say goodbye to the home I'd known for twenty-five years. The place that I alone, had made my safe-place. A little town in the heart of the Willamette Valley, Oregon. Every corner of that town had a memory for me. It was a place of the most growth for me. Pain, love, heartache, weddings, births, loss--it all happened there. The painful thought of leaving it all behind was what kept me in that city for so long. But I knew it was time to go. Life was making that decision for us. The economy there would no longer allow for middle-class family of three to live comfortably. We could stay and struggle, or we could see what else life held in store for us. It broke my heart, but I knew there was a reason behind it. 
My husband graduated, my oldest was about to, and we knew it was the best time to plan for a move. After we made that decision to try something new, everything moved like a well-oiled machine. I'm a firm believer in going with the flow, and not fighting the current. That mindset is what has always led me to the most profound periods of my life. And today, I awoke in a new state, one month in to this new period, farther from some family, but closer to others and ready to take on the new.
So, again-- today on my 40th Birthday, I woke up with an excitement in my belly. A sense of adventure and change on the horizon, combined with a deep sense of appreciation to be right where I am, now resides within.
I don't quite know what that means, or why that is, except for the fact, that today- I don't really want a damn thing. I only have hope. Hope for continued happiness and contentment that I've been blessed to find at such a young age. And I have gratitude--immense gratitude. I'm so grateful to whatever powers that be, for letting me have my childhood dream. 
I don't need the big party, the room full of friends or family in one place, to make me feel loved or special. I'm the big 40 and should know by now how to find the pleasure in the little things. The text messages, phone calls, Facebook messages, my husband kissing my cheek this morning and whispering "Happy Birthday." My little boy singing me the Birthday song, my youngest daughter making me a frozen waffle, and my oldest daughter being here. Everything I'd hoped for as a young girl, is exactly what I have surrounding me. What a blessing.
I'm not saying by this age, everyone should have EVERYTHING they desire. But I am saying, that if you don't--let go a little. Open up and let it unfold for you. I didn't get here easily. There were sacrifices, heartache, losses of friendships, jobs, ego.....BUT, I am appreciative of those moments, because they brought me here.
I have no idea what the next week, month, year, decade (Fate willing) holds for me, but I know by now to be open and appreciative, because life is fleeting. 

I couldn't have written it better myself. Mid-thirties mom, thinks she knows exactly how her life is going to go. Has a great husband, steady work and two growing girls. Then something unexpected happens and things change. And they did.

Five years ago the hubby and I decided that we'd try for another kid when he turned 30....if we felt like it. Well, we didn't feel like it. We realized that our youngest was like having two kids in one body (boy and girl), sleep was finally getting back to normal and we liked having some "freedom" back. Not to mention the money we saved without having to pay for daycare anymore!

Fast forward to March of 2016 and SURPRISE WE'RE PREGNANT! We pretty much had a moment that resembled two teenagers who had A LOT of explaining to do when we saw the positive sign on the EPT. I was terrified to tell my then 15 year old that her mama got knocked up. When I sat her down and said I had something important to tell her she started panicking, assuming that I had cancer. Perhaps I was a little dramatic leading up to what I had to say...way to go mom!

Regardless, it all worked out. My oldest embraced it and the youngest was excited to be a big sister. Last fall we welcomed a beautiful eight pound, brown eyed boy to break up the estrogen wafting through the house and carry on the family name.

Sometimes my husband and I adoringly look at "T" and ask, "where did you come from?" Sparing you the personal details....he truly was meant to be and determined on becoming a part of our family-- I'll leave it at that. In all honesty, it's like he was always in the plans, but still miraculous. He was not on our radar AT ALL, yet I couldn't imagine life without him and don't even want to think about it.

But here we are almost a year later. Life moves faster and faster and I can't find the handbrake to slow it down. Our oldest is in her junior year of high school, the youngest daughter just started second grade and the hubby is preparing for his third year in the MBA program. And I'm still "mom-ing" it while working part time and aspiring to be an aspiring writer.

I'm grateful for everything I've been handed in life. I even wrote a book about it. And then I wrote another to celebrate some other things I appreciate--but unfortunately that's still sitting on my computer...on hold....pending a few edits....waiting to get out and breathe on the screen of a Kindle. And I feel like a big, fat procrastinator.

I know I'm not. I'm just busy. Busy with a lot, but then nothing at all (apparently, not too busy to write this post.) I LOVE to write. Even when I'm not good at it, it feels so good! Something about the escape of it. The story I see in my head, the characters and situations that manifest from nothing but a spark or idea. It's awesome! But unfortunately for me, it requires a quiet place, a block of uninterrupted time and most importantly, the urge to do it. Is it this way for all writers?

I've been talking to my husband about how much I miss it. He's wonderful and willing to do whatever to make that possible, but I put it off for various reasons. So far, all I've done is submitted a few queries to literary agents because its "Manuscript Wish List Day" on Twitter, which I didn't even know was a thing until this afternoon. But I did and I tried and was quickly reminded about the part of writing that I hate--taking a chance. Putting yourself out there and hoping for good feedback. I don't write with the hope of making money, though it would be nice! I write for my soul and put out what I write to share a little of that soul, and maybe it connects with another persons soul. Nothing I create is particularly profound, but it comes from a real place within me.

But today I cannot write because what I thought was only a fictitious scenario in Made in Sweden (not yet released) has actually happened to me and it's awesome. The point of this long, rambling blog is this--life isn't always what you planned. It's often the complete opposite. Sometimes you get exactly what want, but in the most round-about way. And sometimes wonderfully unexpected events delay something else you wanted to accomplish, but that's okay!

I know I'll eventually release my book. And maybe one day I'll get published. If not, oh well! I've got a whopping twenty-two Amazon reviews that make me pretty happy and I've entertained some people. Coincidentally, I received three new reviews of The Nostalgia Effect this month, almost as if it's a sign to finish what I've started or do what I love. But for now, I need to go wipe banana off my son, get the kids from school and make dinner for the people I love.

Thanks for letting me ramble...now go do something YOU love! Or don't, I won't judge.....

THIS IS KATIE! Say "hello" to her. She's my little friend. Seriously, my very little friend. I'm 5'2 and the top of her head only reaches right below my shoulder. No, she's not a "little" person. She is perfectly proportionate. She's just....compact. 

Katie and I met when we were almost two. I don't remember when or how we came to be best friends, but we just did. Katie was always very petite. But so was her mom and sister, and she was also premature, so it was no surprise that she was on the small side.

I remember once, when we were seven, walking through the playground during recess. I noticed that she wasn't growing as tall as I was. She was then, too, right below my shoulder, and I wasn't a particularly tall child. Regardless, it didn't seem to be much of a big deal to anyone at that time. 

Katie and Me On My 7th BirthdayWhen we hit middle school, things started to change. Due to her size, she became somewhat of a novelty item, and though she handled it well, I think deep down it bothered her. People thought she was "so cute," and that was fine and all, but I do remember a time that someone tried to make fun of her and I yelled, "Well, dynamite comes in small packages!" Katie just looked at me like I was a dork (which I was), but I wanted to protect my friend. 

There were a lot of things Katie went through that I wasn't made aware of. I remember occasional trips she would make with her mom, who was a nurse, to the Bay Area or UC Davis to do special testing on Katie to determine why she wasn't growing. She was pretty private about it, and I never pressed her, but somewhere in that time period, I remember her telling me that she had Turner Syndrome. That was just it, nothing major, and she and her family didn't seemed concerned about it, because now they knew what she had. 

However, Turner Syndrome can cause heart defects, infertility, kidney problems, skeletal deformities and lymphedema. Luckily, Katie wasn't on the extreme end of the spectrum with this condition, but she hasn't gone completely unscathed either. She's had some effects that aren't mine to share, but they have made an impact on her life. The point of this blog isn't to go on and on about Turner Syndrome, or to drum up any sympathy. Besides, if Katie knew I was writing this, she'd tell me to stop, because she doesn't like to be the center of attention. But, being who I am (pushy and enthusiastic), I want to celebrate her because she deserves it. 

Despite whatever circumstances Katie has been given, she's always powered through them. She's what I like to call, "a natural born survivor." And my God, is she independent! I took her to Sweden last year and she had no problem maneuvering her way around, paying for things like train tickets, or retail items. She LOVED just being there and was happy to get in on the action. I just stood there like a dumbass (mind you, I've been there several times) watching her do things that I'm too much of a coward to do! And this is how it's always been. 

Katie would never say that she's "brave." But she is even more than that. She's fearless adventurous. She's intelligent and funny as hell (seriously, she’s so funny, I’ve begged her to write a blog). She's compassionate and fiercely loyal. And lastly, she's one of the best friend's anyone could ever hope for. This could be why I no longer consider her just my best friend, but instead a "sister from another mister." She's family. And in my home, my children call her "Auntie Katie.” 

Last night my "sister," put out a post on Facebook sharing some news about a charity walk called "Chasing Butterflies," which takes place in Portland, Oregon on June 20th. This walk is in support of Turner Syndrome, and intended to bring awareness and research to a condition that affects up to 1 in 2,500 girls. Unfortunately, mainstream doctors aren't always familiar with this condition. Often times they don't treat patients with Turner Syndrome proactively to make sure they start checking their vitals and organs often enough. 

Within the last year Katie has become more active in the Turner Syndrome community. Thanks to social media, she's reached out and met new friends with this same condition from all over the world. This summer she will be attending a conference so she can become more involved in this effort to promote awareness. I've honestly never seen her so happy and comfortable in her own skin. She's found a place where people really understand her, because they are her. 

Because I love my "little" friend, I want to support her however I can. I've shared her exciting news, I've donated to her cause, and I've tried to recruit others to support her endeavor. But sometimes, people just don't. Maybe because they don't understand the importance of it...or they don't understand the importance of the person it's affecting. So, this is my attempt. I wanted you to know about this person named Katie. My best friend and "sister," who deserves so much more than what she's asking for. I wanted to put a face behind the cause. 

I hope you'll consider supporting her. I've enclosed some links on Turner Syndromeand the Fundraising page. Any little bit helps.


Thank you, friends!

EJ

I have another blog called Whine The Hell Not. Yesterday I came across a post that someone shared on Facebook and it was entertaining, but I mentally kept replying to each of the stated man "rules." I decided to put those thoughts on my blog and share with you. I hope you enjoy and subscribe to what I like to refer to as "my alter ego's blog". Ejoy!

http://whinethehellnot.blogspot.com/2...

Hello friends, fan and family,

It's been quite a long time since I've put anything out there, creatively or otherwise. Most recently, I've been preoccupied by kids sports, work, work, work and you know...the usual. Unfortunately that's created a little procrastination on my part from blogging, writing and editing.

First, I've totally stunted myself on my next book, Made in Sweden. EVERYTIME I start reading it to edit, I fall in love with the characters and the story all over again. However, finding the time to ACTUALLY edit it and get it out to my beta readers has fallen short. Perhaps it's because of a bit of discouragement on my part. I think I made the mistake of pitching it to Literary Agents before I actually put the book out there in a self-published format. Because of this, I've managed to deter myself from finishing it--I know, I need to knock that off!

Anyway, I just wanted to say a little "hello" to all of you out there in book land. I hope you are coming across some amazing stories, and maybe throwing The Nostalgia Effect in there for some entertainment.

Happy Wednesday!

-EJ

PS: For you music lovers, check out my "official" playlist (meaning that a book can't really have a soundtrack) for The Nostalgia Effect. As some of you might know, I CANNOT write without listening to music as I found it brings out emotion. Sometimes I will even loop a song if I'm in the middle of a scene that would be perfectly set to the track that's on. Anyway, long paragraph short--if you like music, take a listen. And if you've read the book, tell me what song you think fits what scene:).

Spotify (FREE WEB PLAYER)  The Nostalgia Effect Soundtrack