Had any Time Gangsters pop in on you lately?

I’m crouched here in a New York City alley scribbling notes on Berin Stephens’ “Time Gangsters,” which is a refreshing new approach to time travel. Readers join adventurers 12-year-old Billy (boy) and his 12-year-old cousin Danny (girl… short for Dannielle - because her father wanted a boy.) The two are caught up in a time bridge from modern day Colorado to the speakeasy gangster era of 1927 New York City. If that’s not enough adventure for you, throw in some magical gold coins (or “medallions” as Billy’s best friend, Wheezy, repeatedly reminds everyone as he discovers their Egyptian words to unleash their really useful powers.)
Gangsters, cops, and kids travel through time, fighting for possession of the magical medallions that, as well as time travel, make the bearer jump high, throw fire, control wind and water and heal wounds. I really like how Stephens put the young protagonists in situations that are genuinely frightening where they face the possibility of real bodily harm from heartless gangsters, but also engage in funny banter amongst themselves, such as the "Middle Name Curse." It’s a great mix of suspense and humor.
Uh, oh. Here comes a gangster. Whaddaya mean, “How do I know?” Because he’s wearing a trench coat and a slouch hat and carrying a tommy gun. It’s pointed my way! Ack! He’s under the streetlight… what’s this? It’s Berin “Reeds” Stephens. Of all people, the one who created this adventure in the first place.
Berin: Sh. Keep your voice down.
Shirley: Oh, yeah, these New York streets are dangerous in 1927. Shall we walk? Let’s keep to the sidewalk under the streetlights and avoid the dark. Hey, Reeds, we all want to know how you thought of putting American gangsters and Egyptian gold coins together in a story.
Berin: Well, for lack of a better explanation, I had a dream about gangsters with magic coins. I added the Egyptian stuff later to make it a little more exotic.
Shirley: (Screams) Ahhh! Is that a rat?
Berin: You dirty rat! Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat
Shirley: Uh, don’t you think a machine gun is a bit of overkill?
Berin: Nope.
Shirley: Yikes! Headlights up ahead, on a black car, moving slowly!
Berin: Quick, turn the corner! Walk casually. There. We lost them.
Shirley: Good move. You've done this before. Hey, is there some of you as a kid in the main character, Billy? I mean, your names start with the same letter and have the same number of vowels. What gives?
Berin: No relation. And he's nothing like me. He's adventurous, I just drive a car and hide behind a saxophone while playing in clubs. But I did choose his last name of Fairbanks because I was born and raised in Alaska.
Shirley: Have you ever wanted to time travel? Where did you go? (Ahem), I mean, where would you go?
Berin: Let me take this opportunity to make a public service announcement: time travel is dangerous. Don't do it unless you are a certified time travel professional. There are too many consequences from it, like paradoxes created, people who end up not being born, and whole civilizations being wiped out. Not to mention the whole disruption of the space-time continuum that destroys all creation; that's usually considered kind of bad. But if I could travel through time with no consequences? Medieval England, but I'd only want to visit, not live there.
Shirley: I had to laugh when you made 12-year-old Danny taller than her 12-year-old cousin, Billy, because that is how it was when I was 12. Their banter was a funny spot in a frequently tense storyline. Did you have a sister or cousin to banter with while you were growing up?
Berin: No, I was an only child and so was my brother (we were six years apart in age so we didn't have a lot in common). But I do have five kids, who are great source material. And as far as the size difference, I teach music lessons to a lot of junior high aged kids and I visit schools a lot. It just strikes me as funny that junior high girls are often taller than the boys. I just wanted to have some fun with that.
Shirley: Hey, what’s that on the ground up ahead? It’s glinting like…gold.
Berin: I’ll get it.
Shirley: (Walking faster) No, it’s okay, I can get it. You’ve got that heavy gun and everything.
Berin: (Breaking into a run) No, I insist.
Shirley: Finders keepers!
Berin: Losers weepers! Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat
Shirley: (Screams) Ahhh! What’s that? You shot ink all over everything.
Berin: Writing is my secret weapon. You go ahead and keep the medallion, I’ve got plenty more in the pages on my laptop.
Shirley: Ladies and gentlemen, would you ever have guessed? A gangster with heart, and a great story. So where are you off to now, Reeds?
Berin: There are still many adventures happening out there: in outer space, in dystopian worlds, and with super heroes. As of right now, I don't have plans for a sequel for Time Gangsters. We'll see how well it does. But if there is a sequel, it just might take place during World War II, but no promises. But I gotta go. The boss asked me to fill up the Duesenberg before I drive him to the horse races.
Shirley: Bye Reeds! There you have it. Find "Time Gangsters" right here, at this link, go ahead, click on it! (I promise no gangsters will pop up out of your computer screen.) Now click! TIME GANGSTERS!
The Big Boss says to show you this exciting poster if I want to keep all my fingers. And I do. CLICK!
Fingers sore yet? Here's the website where it all came down. CLICK
If you're still conscious, try this blogspot. It could be fuuuun! CLICK
And the one who brought it all to light - the Big Boss publisher! CLICK

Do Cows Eat Snow?

DON'T MISS TOMORROW's SPECIAL EXTRA BLOG (details at end of post) and CLICK HERE to read about the MYSTERY OF MERMAIDS (hey, they live in MELTED snow!) at skyleefair.blogspot.com!
When I first saw the article about cows eating snow, I wanted to shout, "Stop! Don't! Hypothermia!" But it turns out that with four stomachs covered by hide and fur, cows CAN eat snow, and like it! In fact, in a year more snowy than this central Utah's balmy January 50 degrees, cows can get ALL their water needs from snow! But they have to learn how. It's a peer pressure thing.
"Ahem, excuse me, where's the water trough?"
"We don't use a water trough. We eat snow."
(Mooey sort of gasp) "No!"
"Come on, take a mouthful."
"No! It's cold! It's fluffy! It gets up my nose!"
"Come on, just one won't hurt. Look, I'll do it myself." (Bite, crunch, swallow.) "See?"
"Ahhh! Your tongue is blue!"
But, eventually, thirst or curiosity wins the new cow over and she gets addicted to eating snow.
(I wonder if cows eat yellow snow?)
Did you eat snow as a kid, catching snowflakes on your tongue? Or did you peel it off the road?
COME BACK TOMORROW for one of my inimitable book reviews (that means no one can imitate them! I'm the only one who can put you inside the story like I do by browbeating the poor, unsuspecting author!) So come back and read about Berin Stephens' new "Time Gangsters" adventure, you dirty rat!

Crazy - er - Creative Flavor

I was in the store the other day, innocently passing the candy aisle, when I was stopped dead in my tracks by a picture of a hot red chili pepper on a chocolate bar wrapper. What the hooey? At first I thought it was some kind of joke, like Harry Potter booger flavored jelly beans or something, but then I picked up the chocolate bar and saw printed on the wrapper, "Excellence Chili is an exceptional and entirely new taste experience combining Lindt's finest aromatic dark chocolate with the well balanced spice of premium red chili."
Excuse me, but calling something "premium" does not fix the problem when it has no business being there in the first place. (Did these people imbibe in too much liquid holiday cheer or what? They must have all killed their taste buds. That's the only rational explanation!) Chilis go in salsa, not chocolate.
Yet I suppose it's no weirder than the peanut butter baloney sandwiches my oldest son insisted on eating when he was three years old.
What strange tastes do you have? (Which ones will you admit?)

BUBBLES!

It's not snowing in the house... it's bubbles! I forgot how fun our bubble machine could be until my 12 year old dug it out of the basement and set it up in the bathroom. After playing in the spout of bubbles for awhile, he left the room and left the machine on. When I went in there a little while later, I burst out laughing at the bubble pile on the floor. It was very slippery, and very easy to clean with a towel from the laundry. (Always clean with dirty laundry... it must be washed anyway, so why dirty anything else?)
New Year's Resolutions are six days away. I'm an optimist at heart, but this past year I've been more uptight than I ever remember being in my life. I don't like it. Happy is better. So here's my resolution - laugh more. Laugh every day. Find fun in ordinary things. Find fun with you!
What is your New Year's Resolution?

Playground for Parents who Hate Kids

Yesss! Heather Justesen chased the Kindle formatting demons away with her mad skills! Now that the PDF monster is off my back, I'm now pursuing regular old WORD publication on my own, with the kindly offered resources that have dropped neatly in my inbox. THANK YOU! I love you for caring. (I love you anyway, but caring is a bonus!)
Okay, so, Christmas is all about loving and caring and hugging and sharing and taking your kids to the playground in spite of the snow. Right? But any parent who would take their child to this playground would most likely dress their little ones in shorts and t-shirts and pour water on the slide before sending the child down in order to make their bums stick to the metal. I mean, look at that drop at the end of the slide! It's got to be two feet tall or more! If a little person is barreling down and there is no one to catch them at the end, which any parent who lets their child play on this slide would not be, then the child falls their entire body length to the ground.
Some fun.
Maybe they aren't done yet... maybe there's a giant inflatable pillow installation pending... or a hidden camera for a candid camera TV show.
What was the most memorable play experience you had as a child?
And Merry Christmas, one and all... I love Jesus.

E-book NIGHTMARES!

Sorry, this is a scrumbly week. (Don't look up "scrumbly," it's only in MY dictionary!) I just can't seem to figure out how to publish e-books and it's driving me insane! All that beautiful writing time spent scrolling through web search results and all that wondrous creative brain power spent trying to figure out unfamiliar terminology!
WHO SAID IT WAS EASY? You must have computer parts in your genes!
Well, at least you can look forward to "Playground for parents who hate children" next week. Really.
I have a picture and everything.
What is hard for you to do? Do you keep trying, or shift your energy elsewhere?

Surprising Thanksgiving Eating Contest and Cauliflower Ships

Are you tired of Thanksgiving stories? Well, this one is weird, so it's worth going back in time a couple of weeks. Most of you know that I have boys. And boys don't generally think much about their weight. So before Thanksgiving dinner, my guys weighed themselves. After dinner, they weight themselves again. The differences ranged from 4.4 pounds gained to .8 pounds lost.
SAY WHAT? LOST?
Yes, lost.
HOW DID HE DO THAT? He ate. I saw him. But this is the son with the killer metabolism, who got so tired of eating continually in high school that he began eating normally and started losing weight.
Hm. He and I ought to split our metabolism and do co-transplants.

On Thanksgiving, even our entertainment was food-themed. When the grandchildren got together to do a play about the Pilgrims coming to America, they found a couple of mattresses stacked in a bedroom. "Hey!" our 7-year-old granddaughter said with wide-eyed excitement. "Those can be the Cauliflower!"
"Um," her nearly 10-year-old brother said, "You mean the Mayflower."