Dear Friends:
 I am moving my blog. This will be the last post here at this site. Please come find me  at GabiStevens.wordpress.com  at my new site. I've been double posting here and there for at least two years now, and the time has come to close this one.  I hope you follow me there. I don't want to lose you.
--Gabi

Favorties

The most interesting thing about having written a collection of short (short) stories is how everyone has a different favorite.I like them all but even I have a couple that stand out as my favorites. The people who have previewed the stories all told me they enjoyed the entire collection, but X is their favorite. X has been different for each person. One friend like the first in the collection; my husband liked a totally different one. I find it so interesting that our tastes can vary so much. I also find it wonderful.

Why so wonderful? There are books people rave about that I couldn't finish. (You know the one I'm talking about, Monique.) There are books I obsess about that I can't get others to read. What it shows is that there is room for everyone out there in the world of books. You may not like my books, but you'll rave over someone else's. Some author might leave you cold, but my books will carry you away to that magic world where you forget yourself. It's all good.

If we all liked the same thing, we'd all have to read (and eat, and view, and furnish our houses with) the same thing. Yuck. How boring. While I believe there is value in having common experiences in a culture , i.e., certain books, films, etc. that everyone has read or seen, you are still allowed to pick your favorites. And pick your unfavorites. Taste and sharing them or arguing over them makes life interesting.

Have I mentioned I don't like olives?

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:

This Case is Gonna Kill Me by Phillipa Bornikova

Rosemary and Rue by Seanan MacGuire

A Game of Thrones  by George RR Martin (reread)

The things that shape us

 I was the child of immigrants and we didn't have lots of money when I was a child. And I lived in the poor section of an affluent town. At school there were always events, requirements, projects, trips that I either couldn't participate in fully. You know the old meme about Crayola crayons vs, Rose Art? That was my life, but we didn't even have Rose Art quality crayons.

One school I taught at had a blanket field trip form so the teachers/advisors could take their classes to a nearby coffee house/bakery. My kids were always begging me to take them. I never did, because I knew what it felt like to drink only water while everyone else had sodas or ice cream or lunch.

As an adult I've never had to worry about any of this. My kids got Crayola crayons and wore clothes that fit them (don't get me started on hand-me-downs when I was taller than most of the older kids we knew), but I have never forgotten what it feels like not to fit in.

Here's another perspective on this topic. When Elite Parents Dominate Volunteers

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:

All Beautiful Things by Nicki Salcedo

Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness

Prodigal Mage by Karen Miller