I am so, so pleased with this initial response!

And relieved. You have no idea. These are all people who I admire greatly and it was nerve-wracking knowing the book was out there being read by these writers. The fact that they liked it makes me think I did something right. Whew.

So now I am whooping it up. YAY!!! 

Knopf is covering the jacket with them. Here's a first look at the cover: 

(Better look at the blurbs themselves coming soon -- I promise!)

Okay. So that's a little small, teensy-weensy -- dang miniscule.

(Or does this have something to do with me needing bifocals?) 

Eyesight aside, let's try this, since you guys with smartphones and such can swing these things around.

More to come! Big yay!

Amy

Look at this: Part One and Part Two.

Wow. Who knew? 

My favorite part:

If you ask how the fruit of exercise relates to the fruit of the Spirit, my answer is this: The Holy Spirit produces his fruit both directly and indirectly. He can zap you in your worst moments and make you kind. But he often does it indirectly.

Exercise (and getting enough sleep) makes Mr. Piper a kinder, more patient, and much more productive man. 

Wait -- you knew about this exercise thing, didn't you?

Well, I didn't.

I did think John Piper looked pretty good for a guy in his 60s. 

Here are the photos. 

This is Jamie, sneaking up on the jam paparazzi-like. She's much prettier than the jam. (Though the jam was yummy -- as you'll see below.)  

Because we both blog, we had to take photos. 

And then -- because it's food -- we had to eat. Jamie made homemade ice cream! And the Blueberry Apple Preserves made a perfect topping...

<Sigh>

Jamie has a couple of blogs. Find her at Formerly From A Room in Roppongi. Yay! Thanks for the great day Jamie!

Found outside the Geneva, Illinois Public Library. I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time to craft a fancy trash can . . .

Made me smile!

Here's the new cover: 

It's available for Amazon's Kindle (here) and B&N's Nook (here). So go ahead and download it. It's a good story -- I promise. 

WhooHOO -- LUCY is an ebook!

I'm celebrating. I'm proud of myself for getting this thing done.

Yes!

Because I have the proof about the muffins working well, I feel the need to POST it. (Posting is becoming like some sort of TICK with me.) 

(If you don't know why I'm saying this, read the post right before this one.)

Ta-da! Vegan Chocolate Chip Muffins! (Sidenote: Did I say "vegan" and "chocolate chip" in the same sentence? Yes I did. In Amy's Vegan World, chocolate chips are allowed. Let me have my fantasy, okay? I'm not giving up chocolate.)

And here: 

Seriously these are great. They freeze well too! (Info on how I did this is in the post linked above. Many, many thanks from me to Mark Bittman -- the man who makes my vegetarian dreams come true.)

Yeah, the photo could be better, but I only had my iphone on me. I figured documentation trumped beauty in this case -- particularly when you're expecting something that looks about as dense as cheesecake and heavy as granite. 

Which these are not. 

Did you notice? 

YAYYYY!

See all those open cookbook and the yellow shopping list?

I'm in the middle of my trying-nearly-vegan timeline. 13 days in. If you're counting. Clearly, I am.

If you wonder why I'm doing this to mysel, the original post is here.

"Nearly vegan" means no meat and no dairy. Eggs are on call -- if I need them. (Haven't yet -- amazingly.) Honey is in. And chocolate is absolutely, necessarily, don't-give-me-that-look, IN. Chocolate is its own food group. I say so. 

The score? Overall, relatively good. But it's work intensive.  

Meat: Giving up meat has not been a problem (for 13 days at least). But this isn't surprising. My husband and I already eat a lot of vegetables (we're huge fans of our local farmers market) and we don't eat meat much -- maybe once a week.  

Dairy? Groan.

I love dairy. I do. This is killing me, mostly because I love cheese, I love to bake, and I love to cook. In order to not eat dairy, I NEED replacements. (My stomach made me use those all caps.) Replacements means a lot of work. It means trying, discarding, trying again. I've stocked my shelves with four different kind of "milk." I've got silken tofu and firm tofu, and I've got the vegetarian cookbook opened on the kitchen counter.

I'm developing a deeper understanding of just why I was known as the picky eater in my family. For instance, I am not satisfied with just one replacement for cow's milk. Nope, I've got to have four:  I like almond milk best in my granola. I like oat milk in my tea. I like soy milk in Phil's concentrated coffee, but not in fresh coffee (because it separates like Terrance Mallick's galaxies in Tree of Life and milk shouldn't DO that, right?). So in fresh coffee I'm still searching. Oat milk is pretty good, but I haven't tried rice milk yet.

And I'm doing A LOT of cooking right now. It's a slog, but there has been progress. I've made a great foccacia bread that can be topped with a million different toppings. I made a very decent fried rice that I think I could love. I've made a mushroom pate to put on bread. I'm thinking about trying fermented lemons. And -- here's good news -- my favorite muffin recipe went fine with oil for butter, 3TBS silken tofu per egg, and oat milk for cow's milk. Hallelujah! Anyway, I'm glad I've got good preserves and pickles on hand. I seem to need food with lots of flavor.

 So that's the news on the diet. Thank heavens for fried rice and foccacia bread and muffins made with silken tofu. I'll keep the diet up until middle of next week. Then I've got to make a grand desert for my husband that will probably call for butter, vanilla and lots of tart cherries.

So this is what happened: Yesterday, after doing my work, I went online to start reviewing recommended videos and tutorials for authors with books about to be published. (One Came Home is coming out January 2013.) Then I went to bed and picked up my copy of the magazine, Poets and Writers and read more about the industry. I'd also just read an article in the NYTimes about Rupert Murdoch splitting his company in two: newspaper assets and HarperCollins on one side, and the rest on the other. 

Today, I woke up... well, in a numbed state. And here's the thing: Earlier yesterday I'd had the urge to work on a story. See, I've been writing some nonfiction, and doing research, and haven't worked on a story for awhile. But yesterday I felt the urge to work on a story. It was a tiny feeling -- the equivalent of a seedling in a garden -- strong enough to push through the dirt and exist, but still small. That bright green feeling cheered me. 

Then came his morning, and though I remembered the feeling, I couldn't find it. 

(No worries: I know it's there. It needs to be unearthed -- that's all.)

I recently read a writer who confessed they hadn't written in a year because they just found the publishing industry situation too disorienting.

Yeah. It is. Where will the world be in January 2013 when my new book is published? I don't know. No one does. We're all waiting -- to see where things end up. 

Sigh.

Then -- in the midst of all of these thoughts -- I was reminded of a story I'd been also been reading yesterday. It was about Elijah. He's living in a cave because things have gotten very bad for him (not the point of what I'm writing, though it does seem applicable). And God comes. First comes the wind, then the earthquake, then the fire. But Elijah stays in the cave until he hears a gentle whisper. Then Elijah goes out to meet God. (1 King 19: 11-13)

God is in the whisper, not the other stuff. I need to listen to the whisper. 

So this is what happened: Yesterday, after doing my work, I went online to start reviewing recommended videos and tutorials for authors with books about to be published. (One Came Home is coming out January 2013.) I did it. Then as I was going to bed, I picked up my copy of the magazine, Poets and Writers. (I like to read in bed.) Lo and behold, here was more about the industry. And in the back of my mind was an article I'd a just read in the NYTimes about Rupert Murdoch splitting his company in two: newspaper assets and HarperCollins on one side, and the rest on the other. 

Today, I woke up... well, in a numbed state. And here's the thing: Earlier yesterday I'd had the urge to work on a story. See, I've been writing some nonfiction, and doing research, and haven't worked on a story for awhile. But yesterday I felt the urge to work on a story. It was a tiny feeling -- the equivalent of a seedling in a garden -- strong enough to push through the dirt and exist, but still small. That bright green feeling cheered me. 

Then came his morning, and though I remembered the feeling, I couldn't find it. 

I recently read a writer who confessed they hadn't written in a year because they just found the publishing industry situation too disorienting.

Yeah. It is. Where will the world be in January 2013 when my new book is published? I don't know. No one does. We're all waiting -- to see where things end up. 

Sigh.

Then -- in the midst of all of these thoughts -- I was reminded of a story I'd been also been reading yesterday. It was about Elijah. He's living in a cave because things have gotten very bad for him (not the point of what I'm writing, though it does seem applicable). And God comes. First comes the wind, then the earthquake, then the fire. But Elijah stays in the cave until he hears a gentle whisper. Then Elijah goes out to meet God. (1 King 19: 11-13)

God is in the whisper, not the other stuff. I need to listen to the whisper. 

(About that feeling I lost: No worries.I know it's there. It needs to be unearthed -- that's all.)

 It's the fourth of July. You've got the day off, right? So go play! I'm inspired to write this because last Saturday I got up at sunrise to meet some friends and photograph the sunrise. It felt silly and fun and peaceful too. And we were all in it together -- which made it seem like an adventure . . . Oh YAY!

These photos are of me. They were taken by my friend Terri. I hope they inspire you to get outside to do something whacky. (Yeah that's me running into the sunrise. And why not?)

So Go Play. Fun! Adventure! Silliness!

I'm giggling too because what if there's a wave of people having crazy fun everywhere? Wouldn't that be great?

Yes, this store is in the community that banned it. The community is divided over the whole thing (and it's a bigger issue than the book, though the book is sort of the symbol of whatever's going on there).

But YAY! Go Five Stones Bookstore! And thanks to Brad Rhen for posting this on his Twitter feed. 

Saw this movie:

Went immediately to the bookstore. (Immediately: I turned off the television, put on my shoes, grabbed my bag and walked to the bookstore.) I bought this:

And this:

My husband came home late and wondered why I was still up. I told him. The next day he watched the movie.

Now he's reading this too: 

(I'm a Mark Bittman fan. He didn't disappoint this time either. I like his I'm-not-going-to-beat-myself-up approach to dietary change.) 

Here's what I've decided: I'm going to try to move my diet in a vegan direction. Hey, I'm nearly a vegetarian as it is.  

I am. But please don't think this is the result of some moral, ethical, whatever, high-ground. Though there are VERY good reasons for eating this way (and I respect people who have them) I cannot make those claims for myself. When I made the change to vegetarian eating I never thought about the reasons. See, the summer after I graduated college, my cousin asked me to cook with her. She wanted to use a Moosewood Cookbook, SUNDAYS AT MOOSEWOOD. I tried it, liked the food, so kept cooking using Moosewood Cookbooks. It was only years later that I realized Moosewood Cookbooks were vegetarian. Seems obvious, but I didn't notice. Yeah, I knew I wasn't buying meat -- a college graduate with a temp job notices how not buying meat keeps a bank account in the black. But getting some sort of life -- hopefully with friends and a job -- concerned me more and anyway, there was McDonalds if I had the carnivore's craving -- meat and cheap. 

Much time passed -- after a handful of friends, 1 husband (!?!), 13 moves, and a resume with many, cobbled-together jobs -- and then, my husband and I found the farmer's market. Now we go twice a week. I love the farmer's market because: 1) the food tastes so good. 2) My husband and I do it together -- so it's a date, and a time to talk. And 3) after four years, the farmers became friends. As a result of this, my husband and I eat a lot of plants, and we eat locally (literally supporting our friends).

Once we made the time for the market, we ended up (by chance) eating better than we've ever eaten in our lives. The farmer's market isn't cheap, and you can buy dud foods now and again (it happens), but for the most part, the fresher your food is, the better it tastes. And sometimes I think the expense works for us: Because we spend money on our food, we are motivated to prepare and eat it. It also means we eat out and order in less.

With the restaurant eating, it's not only the expense of eating out that stops us. It's also that it's hard for regular restaurants to compete with the stuff I can make at home (at least to my taste). I say that without any claim to being an amazing cook. The only thing I do is cook simply with very fresh ingredients, and a fresh vegetable is usually simple to prepare (once you know the trick). 

Then there's the cooking for yourself side of things: Cooking at home has a lot of unplanned, positive health benefits because you see what you're putting into your food. I mean, would anyone in their right mind dump into their cooking pot the amount of high fructose corn syrup we all eat re

Saw this movie:

Went immediately to the bookstore. (Immediately: I turned off the television, put on my shoes, grabbed my bag and walked to the bookstore.) I bought this:

And this:

My husband came home late and wondered why I was still up. I told him. The next day he watched the movie.

Now he's reading this too: 

(I'm a Mark Bittman fan. He didn't disappoint this time either. I like his I'm-not-going-to-beat-myself-up approach to dietary change.) 

Here's what I've decided: I'm going to try to move my diet in a vegan direction. Hey, I'm nearly a vegetarian as it is.  

I am. But please don't think this is the result of some moral, ethical, whatever, high-ground. Though there are VERY good reasons for eating this way (and I respect people who have them) I cannot make those claims for myself. When I made the change to vegetarian eating I never thought about the reasons. See, the summer after I graduated college, my cousin asked me to cook with her. She wanted to use a Moosewood Cookbook, SUNDAYS AT MOOSEWOOD. I tried it, liked the food, so kept cooking using Moosewood Cookbooks. It was only years later that I realized Moosewood Cookbooks were vegetarian. Seems obvious, but I didn't notice. Yeah, I knew I wasn't buying meat -- a college graduate with a temp job notices how not buying meat keeps a bank account in the black. But getting some sort of life -- hopefully with friends and a job -- concerned me more and anyway, there was McDonalds if I had the carnivore's craving -- meat and cheap. 

Much time passed -- after a handful of friends, 1 husband (!?!), 13 moves, and a resume with many, cobbled-together jobs -- and then, my husband and I found the farmer's market. Now we go twice a week. I love the farmer's market because: 1) the food tastes so good. 2) My husband and I do it together -- so it's a date, and a time to talk. And 3) after four years, the farmers became friends. As a result of this, my husband and I eat a lot of plants, and we eat locally (literally supporting our friends).

Once we made the time for the market, we ended up (by chance) eating better than we've ever eaten in our lives. The farmer's market isn't cheap, and you can buy dud foods now and again (it happens), but for the most part, the fresher your food is, the better it tastes. And sometimes I think the expense works for us: Because we spend money on our food, we are motivated to prepare and eat it. It also means we eat out and order in less.

With the restaurant eating, it's not only the expense of eating out that stops us. It's also that it's hard for regular restaurants to compete with the stuff I can make at home (at least to my taste). I say that without any claim to being an amazing cook. The only thing I do is cook simply with very fresh ingredients, and a fresh vegetable is usually simple to prepare (once you know the trick). 

Then there's the cooking for yourself side of things: Cooking at home has a lot of unplanned, positive health benefits because you see what you're putting into your food. I mean, would anyone in their right mind dump into their cooking pot the amount of high fructose corn syrup we all eat re

Warning: What follows is a pea-sized rant . . .

You need to know this, so I'm telling you. Right now, at our Green City Market in Chicago, fresh peas are still available. Do you know this? 

You should. Because peas will not be around much longer. Maybe a week. Maybe less. Maybe because I've eaten them all.

In order to give you a CHANCE at getting some (because it seems only fair) I am getting down on hands and knees and waving my hands at you (this is the best I could come up for a visual of begging). Please, please, PLEASE make time to go out and get some. It may revolutionize your eating life. I kid you not. There is NOTHING like fresh peas.  Eating fresh peas may convince you that there is only one way to eat in life: fresh, fresh, fresh and (maybe) simply cooked. I say 'maybe' because these things are great out of the box (as say, you browse the rest of the food at the market).

And if you haven't had peas straight from the grower's hand, don't tell me you've eaten peas, okay? You can't convince me. I'm dang stubborn on this. See, these peas aren't your mom's overcooked mush. These peas don't exist in the frozen aisle. They don't come in a can or with a label of a happy giant on the side. And these peas -- fresh peas -- aren't the dried ones you find in soups. These are fresh, as in miraculous, as in picked a day ago (or so).

Man, I've grown to like them so much that I actually like them more than the summer fruit (which is saying a lot).  

I say this with some urgency: Time is running out on peas (particularly with this crazy Chicago heatwave) so I beg you to get some as soon as possible. 

BUT if you don't get them, I will. I will eat every last box and I will not consider it rude. You were warned. 

Enough said. 

I just wrote up a little blurb for a food pantry on how to use fresh peas, and thought I'd include it here -- for general, worldwide, internet good. 

COOKING & EATING:

PREPARATION: 

STORAGE: