But I’ve got it back and am excited about my blog again, so YAY! To make up for missing so many letters in the A-Z Challenge, I am going to hit on all the letters today by filling out this fun alphabet meme I found. It’s from the YA Book Club group on Goodreads so it’s largely, though not entirely book-centric. Enjoy – and fill one out on your blog for me to read!

A Author you love? Oh man, there are SO many. I’ll only name authors who are still living and producing work so I don’t ramble forever. Here we go: Sarah Dessen, Jackson Pearce, John Green, Maureen Johnson, Stephanie Perkins, JK Rowling, Jessi Kirby, Aprilynne Pike, Ally Condie, the list goes on and on. Lots of love over here.

B Best Friend Geek Husband and Baby Caveman, natch.

C Can’t live without? My family. Don’t want to live without? Books, movies, camera, computer, cookie dough, sweet tea.

D Dream destination? So many. Mostly Russia and Cambodia.

E Embrassing Monment? It’s pretty hard to embarrass me, I won’t lie. There was this one time at drill team practice where I was yelling at the other girls about their boobs (unknowingly) in front of the really hot volleyball coach. It wasn’t terribly embarrassing, actually, but it’s the first thing that came to mind when I got to this one.

F Favorite Food? Sushi and ice cream and fruit smoothies. Not all together.

G Greatest Achievement? Having Baby Caveman.

H Hometown? Great Falls, Montana

I Innermost Fear? Failure.

J Just finished reading? Sweetly by Jackson Pearce. Well, actually a submission for work, but that doesn’t count.

k Kindle? Nope.

L Love to Read? Duh.

M Makes You Laugh? Almost everything. I really like dry humor, especially British humor.

N Nook? Love it, love it, LOVE IT!

O One Wish? That Baby Caveman will have all the happiness he wants and deserves in life.

P Pizza Topping? Pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms. But only for thin crust.

Q Quote that describes you? “To me, the greatest act of courage is being the one who kisses first.” ~Janeane Garofalo (okay, maybe it doesn’t really DESCRIBE me . . . but I love it.)

R Reading Now? Destined by Aprilynne Pike. She mentioned at her signing last year that Illusions has a cliff-hanger ending, so I put off reading that one until earlier this week. I’m so glad I did, because if I read it right when it came out and then had to wait a year for this one, I would’ve gone crazy!

S Siblings? Okay, are you ready for this? I have one full-blood sister. I have three step-brothers. One of them is also my cousin. I have two step-sisters. They are also my cousins. And I have one adopted sister. She is also my cousin. And the half-sister to my step-brother and step-sisters. By blood, she is exactly as related to me as the other 3 are, but less related to them than they are to each other. Have I confused you yet?

Maybe I should have just said 7.

T Texted Last? Um . . . my mom, I think? Baby Caveman might have dropped my phone behind my headboard and I’ve yet to dig it out, so I can’t check for sure.

U Understands you best? Does that person exist? Sometimes I don’t even understand myself.

V Vanilla or Chocolate? Vanilla.

W Worst Habit Picking at my skin.

X X-rays you’ve have? Too many to count. I had one when I fell off the trampoline when I was ten and broke my humerus in two. They had to pin me back together, and – no joke – the reception on my grandma’s TV changed when I raised and lowered my arm. Then I had one on my wrist in 7th grade after I slipped and fell on the ice – just a sprain. One not too long after that when we discovered I had an extra bone in my foot. One when I broke my shoulder playing ultimate frisbee. One when I broke two bones in my foot at a table at work. A bajillion and a half on my shoulder (including one really long dye-injected x-ray (which involved a 9-inch needle)) when they were trying to figure out what the crap was wrong with me. And of course, a ton on my teeth throughout the years.

Probably I’ve forgotten a few.

Y Your Favorite book? Crime & Punishment, not that that’s a surprise to anyone here.

Z Zodiac Sign Taurus. I’m stubborn.

(All pictures link to Goodreads, so follow them over to check the books out!)

J is for Jackson Pearce!

K is for Kirby, Jessi Kirby!

L is for Lisa M Basso!

M is for Meadows – of the Jodi variety! (yes, I know it’s already out, but I’m still anticipating reading it)

N is for Nova Ren Suma! (again…it’s already out, and I’m just behind. Whatevs.)

O is for Oliver, Lauren!

P is for (aprilynne) Pike!

2. F is for Farming. ALPACAS!

Enough said.

3. G is for Gorgeous. The weather was SO nice today I actually had to go buy some summer clothes for Baby Caveman so he wouldn’t melt in his long pants. I know better than to get my hopes up that spring has finally completely hit Wyoming (it’s supposed to snow later this week), but it sure was nice to enjoy the sun today!

4. H is for Hunger Games. Geek Husband and I finally got out to see the movie last week, and I was so impressed with it. I’ll admit, when they first announced it, I was totally wary – not because I thought they would change the book, or the casting wouldn’t be what I imagined (um, the casting? spot on), but because I didn’t have much faith in the studio. Sorry, Lionsgate! It’s not you, it’s me…it’s just that your typical Lionsgate movie is so not my kind of movie and I was afraid they were going to turn The Hunger Games into a typical Lionsgate movie. They didn’t, and it was fan-freakin’-tastic.

5. I is for In The Woods. I recently finished reading this book, and I can’t even begin to describe how I can be simultaneously totally absorbed by a book and want to punch it in the face. This book irritated me to no end – I actually screamed in frustration twice – but I still want to read the next in the series. It’s been about four days and I can’t decide whether I loved it or hated it.

Okay, y’all, I can finally start to tell you why I’ve been so absentee lately. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve gotten hints at this already, but it’s finally becoming a reality:

Tomorrow afternoon I am having 23 alpacas delivered to my farm! We have been working like crazy to make this happen and I’ve been spending every bit of time I can find working on fences, researching, making sure paddocks are ready to go, and…

Training my two livestock guardian dogs puppies.

These are my new Turkish Kangal pups (Turkish what? you ask…don’t worry, you’re not the only one who has never heard of them. )

They are about 8 weeks old in that picture and already weigh 20-25 pounds each. The breed has been bred for thousands of years as shepherd’s dogs in Turkey, brought up to live among and protect flocks of sheep. These two guys will be living with the alpacas and put in charge of making sure no nefarious beastie gets at my livestock.

Turkish Kangals are one of the lesser known livestock guardian dog breeds (with the more popular ones being: Great Pyrenees, Maremma, Anatolian Shepherd [a cross-breed of a Kangal and an Akbash which somehow became registered as a pure-breed in America], Akbash, and Tibetan Mastiff). After a ton of research, I chose Kangals for four primary reasons:

1. They are very people-friendly. They bond not only to the livestock they are in charge of, but also to humans. They love human interaction and are eager to please. While they will growl and intimidate a stranger – who knows, the human might be trying to harm an alpaca – they are easy to socialize and will readily accept anyone who enters the pasture with their master.
2. They are a very docile dog. This is a great trait to have in a dog that can easily weigh 140-160 pounds full grown. Once they are taught who’s boss (which is why I’ve been gone training them so much), they defer to that human. But, they are not wimps; if a threat is posed to them, their humans, or their livestock charges, they go all Jekyll-Hyde and take that threat down immediately.
3. They are homebodies. A lot of the livestock guardian breeds have a tendency to wander – anything they can see is their territory to protect. This is why the leading cause of death for LDGs is not from predators. It’s from being hit by cars when they wander onto the highway. Kangals attach themselves to their area nearly as much as they do to their charges, so they are not prone to wandering. It’s important to me to 1) have a dog that will stay with the alpacas like it should, 2) not have my dog splattered on the highway, and 3) not have it try to protect the cattle of my crotchety neighbor who likes to shoot dogs when they go on his property (he’s not REAL close, since we have a bit of land, luckily).
4. They are FAST. This means is a predator does show up, they won’t have to chase it for far (like, onto mean neighbor’s land, or across the highway) before they catch – and kill – it.

And this is Raskolnikov (Rascal). He is 5 days older than Kiral and weighs 29.3 pounds. o_O

Okay, time for more pictures of the cuteness!

This is Kiral (it's Turkish for Supreme Chief). He's 9.5 weeks old (8 in the picture) and 26.1 pounds.

Which is really just my lame way to say: I FINALLY got out to see The Hunger Games movie tonight. I’ll say more later, but the gist is: I loved it, they did a great job, I’m tired and can’t think properly, m’kay bye-bye.

Remember back in the day (the one which I am too short on time to look for the post) when I gushed and gushed about how much I adored Moonglass, Jessi Kirby’s debut novel?

Well, her second title, In Honor, is coming out soon, and to celebrate, she’s holding the best giveaway EVER on her blog. She’s giving a Book Club in a Bag prize pack to one lucky book club. It includes:

• 10 hardcover copies of In Honor
• An annotated playlist
• Map of Honor & Rusty’s route
• Book discussion questions and special “Behind the Book” extras
• An author visit, either in person or by Skype, depending on location

All of that, contained (except for the actual author, of course) in a cute canvas bag.

Words cannot describe how badly I want to win this, you guys!

If you have a book club that loves to read contemporary YA, head to Jessi’s blog to enter the contest. (And if you don’t, enter it anyway, and if you win give it to ME I’ll make you an honorary member of my YA book club!)

Which means I’m taking part in the Blogging A-Z Challenge again. To learn more about the challenge (and sign up for yourself, if you want), click the banner below:

I was thinking about that this morning and realized that isn’t so much the case anymore – I haven’t been put in a cast for a really really long time. I’m not a walking liability anymore. Yay!

But then I got thinking that I’m kinda a walking contradiction instead. Case in point:

• I love the ocean nearly as much as I love Baby Caveman and Geek Husband. I could live in the ocean (for serious, I once had – and still harbor – dreams of refurbishing and living on an old houseboat…basing at some marina, probably in the Carolinas, and traveling up and down the eastern seaboard when I got restless). Mass amounts of love for the ocean. I live in the mountains. In Wyoming.
• If I could, I would go barefoot every day, all day long. Yet, as I was putting my shoes away the other day I discovered that I own 47 pairs of shoes. I guess if I have to wear shoes I should at least have choices…
• Same deal with clothes, y’all. If it were socially acceptable, I would just go naked (maybe I should join a nudist colony…on the beach! Except I don’t want to see other people naked, necessarily), but I have a ton of clothes. I got rid of a whole bunch of stuff right before we moved, but it still felt like I was unpacking and hanging clothes for eons. Again, if forced, I want choices.
• I’m a writer. I don’t care for caffeine. Or chocolate.

2. I’ve missed blogging and being so in touch online. But at the same time, the break was nice. There is something kinda freeing about having to be away from the internet for a period of time. Remember back in the day when we weren’t constantly connected? Times were simpler then. Though, I’m forced to wonder if that was because we weren’t so technologically-minded or because I was just younger and more carefree.

3. Speaking of, one of my biggest pet peeves in the whole world? When someone applies causality to a situation where there is none. Just because there is a situation and then something happens does not mean that situation caused it to happen. Think things through, people!

4. I’m working on something SO SO SO SO SO exciting and also SO nothing to do with writing. As soon as things get rolling along (not too long now), I promise I’ll post about it – complete with FUN pictures.

5. I’ve missed writing. Like deep down to the center of my bones, pining like a teenager in love, missed it. You see, these last several months, we’ve been living in Geek Husband’s grandmother’s house (she was living elsewhere) biding our time until we could move in here. It was awesome to have a space of our own. But…well, it still had all of Geek Grandmother’s stuff in it, and it was impossible to baby-proof. And Baby Caveman? He’s a super active, super curious, whirlwind of a little boy. So basically my days for the past few months have been spent doing nothing but watching him. Don’t get my wrong: I adore playing with Baby Caveman (and watching him play when he would rather just play by himself), but I also have other things to get done during the day. Like writing. Oh man, oh man, oh man like writing. Now that I have a house that is set up and Baby Caveman-ready, I’m able to get down to business and write without constantly worrying that my son is going to destroy someone else’s stuff…or himself! Computer, I hope you’re ready, because you’re gonna be getting a lot of lovin’!

(Monday Massage will return next week with petrissage. It’s been a while…brush up by reading my first two MM posts…)

I’ll be back soon with more Monday Massage and other wonderful goodness.

Last month I read a book that set loose the dichotomy of emotions in me more than ever before.

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green is all at once beautiful and ugly. Funny and Heartbreaking. The story of Hazel and Augustus is one plagued by inevitable heartbreak, yet it is a love so fresh and new that one can’t help but to cheer them on. This book is a one-sitting kind of book; you’ll be loathe to set it down at all.

Go get this book, y’all. Read it. Love it. You won’t regret it.

Just be sure to have a box of tissues handy, because the laugh-to-cry ratio in The Fault in Our Stars is pretty much 50:50

(This is part of YA Highway’s Road Trip Wednesday, a weekly blog carnival where this week they are asking: What’s the best book you read in January?)

Bull plop.

I’m not even going to get into the idea of organic farming when it comes to non-use of pesticides and the such. (Okay, I lie. I will say: buying organic from a small local farm is fantastic, but giant farming operations have to use such large quantities of organic “pesticides” to have the same effect as a small (read: safe) amount of chemical pesticide that it is actually harder on the Earth, and possibly our bodies as well.)

What I am going to talk about it running an organic dairy. Even those who are huge proponents of organic milk will admit freely that there is no difference in the milk coming from an organic dairy when compared to a non-organic one. The difference comes in the treatment of animals.

So you see the fancy-pants organic badge on a carton of milk and you know the cows are being treated better, right?

Wrong.

Dairy cows are treated like kings.* (Or queens, as is more the case.) They are fed high-quality food, given wonderful places to live, helped to give birth (because, my goodness, cows would be extinct without farmers – they can hardly give birth on their own and when they do they do stupid things like stepping on their brand new calf), and generally coddled. Sometimes, they get sick. Sometimes, they get mastitis, which is a really nasty infection in the udders. And when that happens, the farmer gives them antibiotics (injected with a wide-nozzle syringe directly into the udder).

When a cow is on antibiotics, they are milked into a bucket instead of into the main holding tank like the non-medicated cows. The milk from the medicated cow is dumped out. It is not sold or consumed by anyone. (Lest you wonder why farmers still milk a sick cow, ask a nursing mother what it’s like when their kid decides not to eat for an abnormally long amount of time.) After the cow is better and the antibiotic is completely out of her system, she gets milked into the bulk tank just like the rest.

But an organic dairy cannot use antibiotics. So what happens when a cow gets mastitis? It still gets milked into a bucket and has its milk dumped. Why do that when there’s no antibiotic contamination? Because now there is not just milk going into the bucket but the blood that is coming out of the udder because the poor cow has an untreated infection. Not only is that cruel to the animal, but chances are she will also dry up and the farmer will lose that income.

How among you, if you had a painful, easily treatable infection, would turn away the (proven safe and effective) treatment and just hope it rides it course out? I prefer not to take any drugs, even legal medications. But you better believe if I got mastitis, I would be on a round of antibiotics. It’s not fair for those animals to be denied treatments and forced to suffer in pain in order to earn a shiny organic badge. It’s bad business sense at best and animal cruelty at worst.

Think about that next time you insist your milk be organic.

*I’m talking about family dairies here. I know that some scary things can happen at huge corporate ventures.

All I can say is, What the hell are these women thinking?!

Okay, I know that a wedding is primarily the woman’s show, but pre-planning without regard to your (future) man’s personality and style is just stupid. A wedding is not something you can plan to only your specifications and then slide into the program whatever man comes along to marry you.

Ladies, I know your future wedding is a big deal and you probably want things a certain way. Daydream away. But please, don’t actually plan anything until you have a man to plan with. 

Baby Caveman is one today
His party was last Saturday
Such a fun little boy
got all kinds of toys
And so all day long we’ll play

Jamie mentioned on her blog today that she’d read years ago about picking a word at the beginning of each year and making that word yours for the year. Of course, you should probably pick a word with some meaning behind it, because, well, if you don’t then the exercise is pretty pointless.

After reading Jamie’s post this morning, I sat and thought for a while (and chased Baby Caveman a lot, but that’s nothing new). And after tossing a few words around – and, I won’t lie, seriously considering using her word as well – I finally came across what will be my word for 2012:

Achieve

2012 will be the year I achieve. This doesn’t mean I expect to get all the things I want by the end of the year, nor do I expect that I will reach all my goals by then, because many of them are more long-term than that. But in 2012 I will keep my focus on achieving and make sure my daily actions reflect that.

Thanks for a wonderful idea, Jamie!

Welcome to the farm!

Geek Father-in-law was, in fact, not a geek at all. He was a farmer. His grandfather raised sheep here in Star Valley; his father raised sheep for a time, but eventually switched to dairy farming instead. Geek Father-in-law eventually bought the farm, and ran it until this past April. This summer and fall friends, neighbors, and family all pitched in to make sure cows were milked and the ground taken care of. Things did not slow down on the farm, even if Geek Father-in-law’s body slowed him down.

Now Geek Husband and I are in the valley, and we find ourselves as farmers. We are learning the ropes, figuring out how everything is supposed to work. Luckily Geek Husband grew up on the farm, so he knows the basics, and we have a great support system of people to help us get through the first few years until we know exactly what we’re doing. Even more lucky is the fact that we will be running the land, but will not be milking cows. I value my sanity too much to milk cows. We are also very fortunate that Geek Husband’s two brothers (one older and one younger), though they live far away, are able to come down and help out when it is needed.

Amid all this change and turmoil, Geek Husband and I are trying to buy a home. Right now we are living in his Grandmother’s home (she is with an aunt in Idaho for the winter), and we are incredibly fortunate to have a place of our own in the interim. Still, it’s not really a place of our own; we are living on a suitcase of clothes between the two of us, with a small additional one for Baby Caveman. We have no internet access. Geek Husband is still working as a computer programmer half-time; he works out of his parents’ den because he can’t connect at our place (luckily the two homes are close to each other). Our web design studio has been put on hold, because so much of what I need to do to launch it is internet-based. (Don’t worry to anyone who is waiting for a design – those are being done still, we’re just not taking on new projects at the moment.) Really I just want to be in our own house so we can be completely set up and back to a semi-normal life. And so I can baby-proof a home because Baby Caveman is in everything. For the love of commas, Fannie Mae (ugh, why does the house I love have to be owned by Fannie Mae?!) needs to get their ducks in a row already.

So, that is life for me now. I live in a beautiful place and I have a wonderful family. Is this where I thought I would be? Never in a million years. Many people romanticize farming (let me assure you that the reality is a lot of dirt and hard work, and while it’s a good honest living, it is not romantic), but I never did. Never, never, never (one more time: never) did I imagine I would be a farmer. But two nights ago, as I simultaneously nursed a baby and drove a tractor on the way to feed calves, I realized that’s exactly what I am now.

I am a farmer.

John Delbert Bateman (3.December.1949 – 27.December.2011)

More than anything else, he was my dad.

So much goes into that simple statement. My dad, John Delbert Bateman, was my hero; he was the example I looked up to; he was my friend, and sometimes my enemy; he was my mentor and my protector.

Many of you who knew Dad knew him as a strong man, a humble man, a caring man. He was the kind of man who touched lives on a daily basis. He befriended those whom others ignored, and was the first to greet any new person he saw. Never was he unwilling to help out when a friend or neighbor needed him to lend a hand.

When one of his kids needed help, he was always there for us, usually without reserve or want of anything in return.  Except one time when I wanted to take the car to a dance but it needed an oil change. Dad was in the middle of milking, and since I didn’t know how to change the oil, I had to take over the milking chore so he could take care of the car for me. The cows got milked, the oil got changed, and Dad sent me off to the dance in his car. I spent the entire night at the dance smelling cow poop. Unfortunately it was me I was smelling.

Dad was born in Afton on December 3^rd, 1949.  Verda and Reynold Bateman, his parents and my grandparents, were thrilled to finally have a son. Grandpa always said farmers should have sons first so they can have someone to teach to farm. Grandma remembers that, since Dad was nearly ten pounds when he was born, it didn’t take long for him to grow up and be taught.

Dad spent his early years doing the typical things kids did: camping with his family, playing with his cousins and school friends, and the like, but from an early age he was required to help his father with milking the cows and other chores. Once, when he was about seven or eight years old, he was having too much fun with a friend. Mom says she thinks it was a girl. He came home late, and, knowing he would be in trouble, crawled in through his bedroom window and climbed into bed. Later, some cousins came in to visit and his mother told him that since he couldn’t come home in time to help his dad, he could just stay in bed and not play with his cousins.

Dad loved to ski. He got his first pair of downhill skis for Christmas when he was fourteen years old. When Jordan was a lad, he found Dad’s old skis in the basement and decided it might be fun to try them out. So he went out and found the biggest snow hill he could, climbed to the top, strapped on the skis in their oversized boots, and went flying to the bottom.

The skis were very old and the tip of one broke as he hit the bottom. Being upset, he went and found Dad and, with tears in his eyes, told that he broke one of the skis. Dad, being the patient man he was, said it was okay and that he hadn’t used them in years.

Years later Jordan still felt bad, so he went to the basement and pulled the skis from their resting place. With some epoxy and wood chips, he repaired the skis the best he could. When the epoxy had set he went and showed Dad the ski and told  him he should go try them out. So Dad loaded up his snowmobile with skis and Jordan loaded his with his snowboard, and together they rode up to the mountain. They spent the day together, skiing, snowboarding, hiking, and chatting.

That was how Dad always was – never quick to anger, always able to take time out for his kids, despite how busy his life was. Corbin remembers a specific instance where Dad took extra time for him. In Corbin’s words:

It was a temperate fall day, a Saturday to be exact. It was an afternoon much like any fall afternoon. I was hanging out with Dad, milking cows – a task which I often abhorred, but most days it did give us a chance to talk. On this particular day, I regaled Dad with my adventures of the day.

In the company of my cousin, Richard, I had hiked the densely wooded trail to the top of Call Canyon, a Winchester .270 rifle slung over my shoulder, in search of an ever-elusive herd of elk. Our hopes of finding them were extinguished that morning as we only found signs that they had moved to a different location. After a non-productive morning, we searched for a different way to descend the mountain. We settled on a ridge that divides Call Canyon from neighboring Wolfley Canyon and began our trek downward. Within what seemed to be a short amount of time, we discovered the remnants of a marble mine. Legends of this marble mine had reached everyone who lived in the area, but no one I knew had ever found its location.

After sharing this tale with Dad, we decided to engage in a quest to locate the mine. Dad was excited and we ventured out that evening without sharing the details of our plans with anyone – in retrospect, a bad idea.

At first it was easy, hiking up the ridge in the evening light, the amber leaves of the Aspen trees mingling with the constant green of the pines. The ultimate goal – the marble mine – had not been located by the time the sun settled across the valley and left us bathed in a river of darkness. At this point, the decision to turn back was made, much later than it should have been. Our excitement – mine at leading Dad to a treasure I had found, and Dad’s at finding the treasure – had overpowered any sensible judgement.

With only a sliver of moonlight to guide our descent, we headed back down the mountain ridge, our goal unfulfilled, but our adventure just beginning. Descending a mountain in the dark is not the easy task one might think, and soon we found ourselves mired in a sea of shrubbery. At this juncture, the best idea seemed to be lowering ourselves to the canyon floor by way of a draw that seemed passable in the dark. Upon entry into the draw – which was too steep to re-ascend – we found a pile of large rocks impeding our travel to the bottom. The rocks, being only slightly more passable than the impossible climb back out of the draw, were eventually traversed with some teamwork and effort. Home free! The canyon floor lay just below us. We continued downward momentum until a fallen tree, with no shortage of dead, sharp branches, blocked us again. Dad, warning me to be careful, led me through the maze of branches and over the long dead tree. We acquired small abrasions and probably a contusion or two, but Dad, ever protective and always agile, led me through the treachery and we reached the canyon floor mostly unscathed.

Ultimately, we did not reach our goal but the night was more of a success than either of us realized at the time. It happened more than twenty years ago, but the memory of that night’s adventure lives on. Dad and I both remember that night fondly and have reminisced about that evening many times since. The last time I saw him, Dad talked about that quest with a smile and laughed at the lack of common sense we shared that evening. He was happy we had that story to share and remember always.

***

Dad went to elementary school in Etna with about twenty other kids, only four of which were girls. He went to junior high and high school in Afton. He played the tenor sax in high school, and passed the sax down to Corbin, who also played in high school. Dad graduated in 1968.

After graduation, Dad went to work for the Forest Service, spraying bugs and clearing trails. He liked to tell the story of how he bathed while he was working out on the trails. There was a small, freezing cold lake out where they were. He needed to clean himself, but it was too cold to stay in the water. So he would strip down on one side of the lake, then swim across holding the soap. On the other side, he would lather up quickly, then swim back across to rinse off.

In January 1969, Dad received his mission call to England – the Southwest British Mission. He left January 23^rd, 1969, and returned January 6^th, 1971. Mom was the first person to see him when he got back – before even his parents – even though she was engaged to another man at the time.

Dad met Mom – the love of his life – in July of 1967. He was 17, and she was only 16. Mom says the first thing she thought when she first saw him was, “I’m too young to meet him,” meaning she knew he was the one she would one day marry. At the time she was dating his cousin, DeLynn, who made the mistake of bringing Dad on a dinner date. I guess DeLynn didn’t fully grasp that for a double date he needed another girl too. Dad wasn’t very focused on girls at the time, and it always took him a few weeks to answer Mom’s letters.

The following May Dad was graduating from high school  and needed a date for the commencement dance. He remembered “that girl” who had been writing to him and invited her up to be his date. Then he didn’t even recognize her! They spent many hours talking and getting to know each other. It would be three more years until they could get married, with his mission in between. Mom tried her hardest to marry someone else while he was gone – even getting engaged twice in the process – but it was always Johnny for her.

After Dad’s mission, he and Mom started dating again. On March 23^rd, 1971, Dad took Mom out on a drive. It was a dark and stormy night. As they rounded a corner, they saw another car coming, so they dimmed their lights. Immediately they hit a pile of tree branches that had been dropped in the road. When the cops came, they kept looking at Mom funny. Later Mom asked Dad about it, and he said, “I told them I was getting engaged tonight.” The ring came a week later; he slipped it on her finger as “We’ve Only Just Begun” by The Carpenters played. When it came time to pick a wedding date, Dad picked a date between haying weeks, and Mom knew then that she was not only marrying Dad, but also his farm. Dad milked cows from the time he was six years old and helping Grandpa until this April, when his illness forced him to stop milking.

In their early marriage, Mom and Dad lived in Idaho Falls, where Dad was studying at Eastern Idaho Technical College in the Diesel Mechanics program. Corbin was born in Idaho Falls; Tifany came shortly after Mom and Dad moved back to the valley. After six more years of trying, I was born, followed by Kelvin and Jordan.

Dad loved his children almost as much as he loved Mom. He told Kelvin a few times that he regretted not taking his kids on more trips, for being so tied down to the farm that he couldn’t take us on more vacations. Kelvin always enjoyed riding in the tractor with him, or tagging along as he fed the cows or worked on the equipment. I don’t think anything made Dad happier during a long day on the tractor than having one of his kids come and join him.

Dad loved his time with each of us. He would read to us every night, but my favorite stories were the ones he told from memory. He had a way of making the stories come alive like we were right there watching it happen. I used to love snuggling up to him at church; he would always let me lean into him for a while before making me sit up on my own, since I was “old enough” to sit alone. He said later he wished he would have just let me sit on his lap when I wanted to so he could have more time close to me.

Always showing his love for his kids, Dad was quick to help any of us out of a pinch, as long as he figured we learned our lesson. He hated to see his kids hurting, but he wasn’t about to bail us out of a learning experience. I think we’re all grateful for that now, and I think each of us kids remember times when Dad has helped us out of a jam.

He was never a vindictive man, but he sure enjoyed it when someone got their “come upins” as he put it. Tifany remembers complaining once about something TJ had done. Dad got that sparkle in his eye – he always showed his emotions through his eyes – and started chuckling. He must have figured Tifany was starting to get her “come upins” for putting him through so much grief. She tried not to complain about her kids after that.

Dad was a wonderful man, a hard worker, and an artist – though maybe he would deny that. He built Mom’s house; they moved in in 1994, and ever since he’s been adding woodwork and detail, making it more of the palace he thought Mom deserves. Last Christmas, he made us all checkerboard wooden cutting boards. Kelvin got to town and, thinking Dad was only making cutting boards for us girls, helped him out. They spent hours together sanding and oiling cutting boards for Tifany, Grandma, and Me. Imagine Kelvin’s surprise Christmas morning when he opened his very own cutting board – the first one Dad made. Dad always liked to say that he didn’t have many fancy things, but we all knew that he could make beautiful things.

I know my Dad was an icon to many of you here today. He was well known in this valley – the family name is as entrenched in this valley as the valley is entrenched in the family. Along with my family, I want to thank all of you for your generous support  and service throughout his illness. It was by the love and support of friends and family that Dad was bolstered up this last year. Your kindness and generosity will not be forgotten.

My hero has passed on now, and leaves my mom, my siblings, and I to carry on his legacy. We are proud of him, of all he was, and all he would have been if times had been different

I am most proud to say this one thing: Of all that he was, he is my Dad.

(Written by Rachel Bateman. Delivered by John’s daughter, Alissa Papi.)

But some of you are super observant and saw that the winners have already been posted in the Rafflecopter widget. So….

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!

Cari Albarelli gets a full critique!

And first 50-pages critiques go to Peggy Eddleman, Jessica, Stephanie, and Kimberly Lynn Workman!

Horray.

Now I’m tired. No more writing for the night.

I’ll email the winners early next week. Or feel free to email me if you want.

Good night.

I couldn’t let today pass without a post, though, because Larkstorm released today (on Amazon…but don’t worry, Barnes & Noble isn’t far behind – hopefully tomorrow) and I am SO excited!

Remember the pretty?

In the years following the destructive Long Winter, when half the world’s population perished, the State remains locked in battle against the Sensitives: humans born with extra abilities.

As one of the last descendants of the State’s Founders, seventeen-year-old Lark Greene knows her place: study hard and be a model citizen so she can follow in her family’s footsteps. Her life’s been set since birth, and she’s looking forward to graduating and settling down with Beck, the boy she’s loved longer than she can remember.

However, after Beck is accused of being Sensitive and organizing an attack against Lark, he disappears. Heartbroken and convinced the State made a mistake, Lark sets out to find him and clear his name.

But what she discovers is more dangerous and frightening than Sensitives: She must kill the boy she loves, unless he kills her first.

 

Head on over to Dawn’s blog to congratulate her and find out where you can get your own copy of Larkstorm!

Sarah is especially awesome for organizing the12 Days of Christmas Giveaway & Blog Hop. Here’s how it works:

12 blogs.

12 days of Christmas.

12 times to WIN.

Listed on Sarah’s blog are the 12 bloggers participating in this blog hop. Between now and December 1st, each of the 12 will put up a contest post, letting you know what you can win at their blog. All contests are open through December 12th. Then, starting on December 13th, winners will be picked! One (or maybe more!) a day for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Then, on Christmas Day, Sarah has a super-duper Secret Santa Giveaway that goes above and beyond the 12 already being held.

Does it get any better? I submit that it does not.

I was given the fifth day of Christmas, Five golden rings! (hence the post title). But, um, my prizes really have nothing to do with golden rings. Maybe I will wear some while I am performing the prize….

So what can you win on my blog? What else:

I am giving away (another) full manuscript proofread and critique. I will read your manuscript (no length limit, but be realistic here – if your book is clocking in at 250,000 probably you should self-edit a bit). My strengths are in YA and MG, so critiques will be more in depth for those genres. Line-by-line proofreading is the same no matter what you’re writing, so that’s that.

Hey, isn’t it  FIVE golden rings?

Huh. Turns out it is. Which means we will have FIVE winners! But I’m not totally insane, y’all. Only one winner gets to send the full manuscript. For the four runners-up, I will proof and critique their first 50 pages!

But, wait! There’s more!

As a couple of you know, Geek Husband and I are starting a web design and development business. We are in pre-launch mode right now, getting everything geared up and ready to go…and building our portfolio. So, in the spirit of giving, we have decided to give:

ONE FREE WEBSITE DESIGN!!!

That’s right. All design, programming, you name it, it’s free. All our websites are designed to be used with an easy content management system (we mainly use wordpress, but if you prefer another, we will code to whatever you want) so you can update whenever you want without waiting for your web guy to do it for you. Full blog integration is included.

(Fine print: design and coding is free. CMS and blog integration is free. You must pay for your own domain name and web hosting. We reserve the right to refuse to design sites based on content. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. If you are an author writing erotica, no biggie; if you’re wanting us to make you a porn website, we’ll say no.)

Since the web design is so large a prize, and to help promote the other authors on the blog hop, I will not be drawing the winner until the end of the year (I don’t want to take away from Sarah’s prize day and do it on Christmas…so we can wait a little longer). Entries for this will be accepted through Christmas day. Also, entries for the web design come from entering all the 12 Days of Christmas giveaways, not just mine. So go visit everyone else and enter their contests!

Enter to win the web design by following this link!