Thankful

November's always been one of my favorite months, because it's filled with opportunities to reflect, celebrate, and be thankful.

I'm thankful for my students, who make me laugh, make me think, and make me feel like I hold a valuable place in the world.

I'm thankful for my work. This year, I've gotten to achieve some fairly substantial dreams: I've done work for National Geographic, and I've gotten to craft my own creative writing class. I am thankful for the trust those around me have had about my ability to do these things well. I work very hard, but I'm fortunate that so much of my work allows me to share my passion, and to fill my life with it.

I'm thankful for my writing, which inspires me to get up before the sun, and stay up long after it's gone to bed, exploring and dreaming and discovering. I'm thankful for the way my writing allows me to better understand myself and my world. I'm thankful for my critique partner, Ryan Graudin, whose encouragement, kind words, and "done yet?" emails help me remember how important my writing is to me, and how much I want to continue to pursue it.

I'm thankful for my friends, who keep me sane in the midst of my crazy work schedule, who make me laugh and feel seen, known, and celebrated. Even when they're far away from me.

 This Thanksgiving, I feel very thankful for my family. I feel thankful for the fact that, even though my brother and I are very different, we can still find joy in doing crazy things (like jumping out of a plane) together. I'm thankful for the fact that he's the ONLY boy who's ever been unembarrassed to dance with me around the kitchen. I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to sit around a crowded table and soak in the eccentric, outspoken crazy of my family members.






And - because I don't think we do this enough - I am thankful for myself: my resilience, my courage, and my continued desire to be open to the world and passionate about it, even when I'm tired and depleted and unsure.

Thankfulness

When you're stressed and busy, it's easy to forget to be thankful. Being thankful requires that you pause for a moment and reflect on things, which I haven't had the time to do lately. It's been an incredibly hectic last few months for me. Still, as I take a breath and think back, I am fortunate enough to be thankful for many things:

I'm thankful for my family, who are more supportive and understanding than I could ever hope for.

I'm thankful for my new coworkers, many of whom have already become fast friends. My workplace wouldn't be nearly as wonderful without them. I'm thankful for my boss, who is one of the most supportive and lovely human beings I've ever met. I am fully aware of how rare and wonderful a thing that is.

I'm thankful for the chance to get to know my students and see into their hearts and minds. I'm thankful that, during my first out-of-state, weekend-long chaperoning trip, my students chose to sit in my room after dinner and have a three-hour conversation about life and faith and identity. That conversation filled me with such a sense of awe and happiness regarding what I get paid to do, and I'm grateful for that. I'm thankful for the fact that they trust me with their thoughts and welcome me into their lives so that I can become a part of watching them grow.

I'm thankful for my best friends who inspire and enrich my life. I'm thankful that even though some of my closest friends live far away, I am still able to be an authentic part of their lives. I'm especially thankful this year to Tori for being my partner in adventuring and for always, always, making me laugh.

I'm thankful that I am able to support myself without constant worry. I'm thankful to have a home and good food and good people around me. I'm grateful to be able to buy myself nice things sometimes (including the amazing new laptop on which I'm currently typing).

I'm thankful for my passions and my drive; for the fact that even when I am tired and depleted, those fires continue to burn.

I'm thankful for my cat, who forgives me for making him live at Mom's house!

Being Glad You're Alive

I recently celebrated a spate of birthdays, including my own. I'm not really one for getting worked up about how "old" I'm getting, as I think that there's something to celebrate about pretty much every age. But something about 28 made me itchy and forlorn. Maybe it's because I'm in the middle of a transition period, or something.

But then I remembered what I like to tell other people about birthdays: they should be one of the most important celebrations of the year because they are a celebration of your life. It's a day not about turkeys or relationships or past presidents, but a day about celebrating everything that you have been and everything that you are. When someone says "happy birthday!" aren't they also saying "I'm glad you're alive"? This past year has been one of my most tumultuous, but I've seen and done some amazing things amidst the chaos: I hiked in Tasmania, something I'd been wanting to do for ever and ever. I finished book #2. I worked hard at my writing and finally, finally, started feeling like I could call myself a writer. I taught university kids about grammar. I got to spend Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in five years. And now, because life is funny and strange, I find myself teaching creative writing to bright-eyed high school students who look at me like I actually might have something to teach them.

Birthdays give us a chance to reflect and be grateful for the fact that we're alive, which in itself is a small kind of miracle.

And an excuse to make some magnificent brownie treats. These are from Donna Hay, Australian Queen of Desserts. They were so good I made a second patch and gave them to friends and family, who ate them with eyes full of baffled awe. These are glorious treats - if you like chocolate and peanut butter, you should probably make these right this second.

(You can get the new Donna Hay Magazine app for the iPad: November's issue can be downloaded for free.)  

From Donna Hay Magazine, Nov/Dec Issue 2011

Peanut Butter Brownies

from Donna Hay Magazine

(if you don't have a scale, it's easy to find butter conversion charts online. Just Google it.)

v dark chocolate, chopped

v 40g butter

v  2 eggs

v 2/3 cup (150g) caster (superfine) sugar

v 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

v ¼ cup (35g) plain (all-purpose) flour, sifted

v ¼ teaspoon baking powder, sifted

peanut butter frosting (*)

v 1 cup (160g) icing (confectioner’s) sugar 

v 1 cup (280g) smooth peanut butter

v 80g butter

v 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and a pinch of cinnamon (because I put it in everything)

v ⅓ cup (80ml) pouring cream

(* The second time I made these I cut the frosting recipe in half, because the first time I ended up with way more than I needed. Of course, because I can never stand to waste something so glorious, I used it all and ended up with sandwiches you could barely fit into your mouth and discovered that there IS such a thing as too much peanut butter frosting.)

Preheat oven to 180°C (350°F). Put 200g of the chocolate and the butter in a small saucepan over low heat and stir until melted and smooth. Set aside. Place the eggs, sugar and vanilla in the bowl of an electric mixer and whisk for 15 minutes or until pale and creamy (mine didn't take nearly that long). Stir through the flour, baking powder, chocolate mixture and remaining chocolate and allow to stand for 10 minutes. Spoon tablespoonfuls of the mixture, at a time, onto baking trays lined with non-stick baking paper. Bake for 8–10 minutes or until puffed and cracked (watch them carefully, they don't take long). Allow to cool completely on trays.

To make the peanut butter frosting, place the sugar, peanut butter, butter and vanilla in an electric mixer and beat for 6 minutes or until light and fluffy. Add the cream and beat for a further 2 minutes. Spread half the cookies with the peanut butter frosting and sandwich with the remaining cookies. Makes about 12.

Book Review: I'll Be There

This is the first year since 2006 that I've been in the States for Thanksgiving, and I find myself grateful for a lot of things. For my family, who believes I'm capable of greatness even on the days when I refuse to change out of pajamas. I'm thankful for the collection of close friends and confidants who have urged me to keep on writing stories. I'm thankful that I have a place to live, good food to eat, and an individual espresso maker.

And, this week, I'm thankful for I'll Be There by Holly Goldberg Sloan.

Genre: YA, I suppose (although I only think it falls under that umbrella because it has several young people in it)

In a nutshell: beautiful, gripping, thoughtful, and heart warming. 

First of all, look at this cover... I think it's the best one I've seen in years. If I could ask this cover out on a date, I'd think about it.

I don't often say I'm "thankful" to have discovered a particular book, but this one is very special. It is about two brothers who have nothing to cling to in life but each other until they move into a small town where a chance meeting changes the course of their lives. Sam, the oldest brother, goes into a church to hear some good music only to hear Emily singing terribly, so nervous that she latches onto his face in the back of the crowd to get through it. This is very much a story about connection: what happens when we reach out and touch each other's lives, even in seemingly small ways.

This is one of those rare reads that I am desperately trying to get everyone I know to read. It is so, so lovely and heartwarming despite its moments of terrible sadness. It made me cry, and it made me laugh loud enough to wake people. It made me so, so anxious to know what happens that I stayed up to some unacceptable hour to finish it. But I didn't want it to end, either. The relationship between the two brothers, Sam and Riddle, is touching and haunting. In fact every relationship in this book is pretty lovely to discover. The book has us skipping between all the character's thoughts, so we get to have access to pretty much every important perspective. The young voices are crafted so thoughtfully and so believably. And although there are things that made me angry and upset, I never found this story depressing. There is so much that is uplifting in it, and the sad moments only make those richer.

I know I haven't really told you what this book is about. I don't want to ruin it: you should get to experience it for yourself, and I highly recommend that you do. 

Being Awesome

Have you guys heard about the blog 1000 Awesome Things? If you haven't, you should: it'll be good for you. Check out this video. I hope it brings some shine to your day!

Epic Road Trip: Tasmania

I've been travelling a lot lately - some fun, some not so fun. Let's talk about the fun stuff.

When I started researching my Masters thesis on the use of creative writing techniques in travel writing (for this read: excuse to read travel articles all day), I read something by Matthew Power about hiking the Overland Track in Tasmania. His story about the five-day hike, and the beauteous place that is this crazy island, made me fall in love with Tasmania instantly and permanently. Power talked about Lords of the Rings-style rainforest with dripping moss, moody skies, and jagged rocks. I found all that and so much more.

We decided to take our car over by ferry, which put us on the northern end of the island. For those of you unfamiliar with this part of the world, Tasmania is an Australian state located under the southeastern tip - it's on the same longitude as New Zealand, so we're talking lots of rain and semi-deciduous seasons as well as rainforests and nice beaches. Tasmania is known for its wilderness, but also for its produce and wines. So we decided to try and find some open wineries around Launceston - not ideal in winter. But we finally struck gold with Pipers Brook Winery, where we had some amazing whites and a pretty decent view.

We felt fancy, even though we were wearing raincoats.

And then we drove east to the Bay of Fires and camped out by the beach. This place was pure magic. The beaches are ringed with speckled boulders covered in bright red lichen, making them look like they've been stained with blood. As soon as we pulled up I was out of the car and taking these:

I don't actually know why the algae is red, but it lights up and glows when the sun falls on it. We set up camp in a bushy alcove and spent the night happily sitting by the fire eating sausages. There was a very brave wallaby who quite literally sat with us through dinner (and picked through our trash). They're notoriously shy, so this was a little weird. Especially when he sat creepily behind my chair and made scratchy noises, which I came him a talking to for. Not that he cared: he blinked at me and stayed where he was.

Then it was off into the historic center of the country for what we decided we needed: a little non-camping time. We stayed in the beautiful, tiny town of Ross in a heritage cottage:

It involved a log fire, a cute local tavern for dinners, and one of the oldest convict-built bridges in Tasmania. While the convict part's a little sad, the bridge itself is pretty impressive. At least Tasmania hasn't swept its colonial past under the underbrush like the rest of Australia, and I have to say I think it's better for it.

Then we wound through wilderness up into Cradle Mountain NP. We stayed at a pretty amazing Lodge were we got amazing massages, gourmet meals, and another log fire/king bed experience. But what we really went for was to hike through this:

This day of hiking was challenging, blissful, and the highlight of Tasmania for me. I couldn't believe I was finally standing on the Overland Track, the track I'd lusted after for so long. We even got to follow a wombat for a while, who was ambling down the boardwalk in front of us. The weather was kind to us, and as a result I had several of those moments of awe that you only get when surrounded by a natural setting so magnificent that you know you'll never be able to describe it. So I took lots of photos instead.

Tasmania is an amazing blend of good things: unspoiled wilderness, friendly people, sparkling coastline, good food and wine, and cosy country towns (to name a few).

It might be considered the end of the earth, but that only makes what you find there that much more outstanding.

New Jobs and Paychecks and CARS, Oh My!

I've driven a lot of junk heaps in my time.

First, there was the 1983 baby-blue reliant. The same car that featured in the 'drive-by shooting' scene of some teen flick that was popular at the time (Save The Last Dance, maybe?). Oh, how I wish I had access to my old photo collection so that I could show you how absurd this vehicle was for a 16 year old girl... for a girl... for anyone, really. It was a massive box of an old man car (and was, in retrospect, a safe car to drive, even if it did take 10 minutes to warm up in winter and shuddered dubiously every time it was started up. When it obliged to start up at all).

While it may sound as if this car couldn't have gotten much more glorious, it could. I had to tape black garbage bags over the right side windows after they got shot out by some rich kid's bb gun. They would flap loudly in the breeze at any speed- I got pointed to and laughed at when I pulled up to lights (why it didn't occur to me to cling wrap them so I could actually see around right-hand curves is beyond me).

That car saw me drive myself into my first accident- well, me and half of my best friend's family, when I drove us all (slowly, mind you) over the small icy bridgeway and down into a dry, rocky creek (I'd estimate it was maybe a six-foot plunge). The car flipped in excruciatingly slow motion onto its back like a fallen turtle, leaving us all hanging awkwardly upside-down from our seat belts. The absurdity was exacerbated by the fact that all of my paraphernalia- bras, shin guards, old bags of chips- were hanging like ornaments from every open door and window. It because the Charlton's "favorite Christmas ornament" and sat there for weeks like a giant blue matchstick.

I could go on about the cars that I had after that- my favorite (oh yes, that was meant to be sarcastic) being the gold Volvo with the crank sun-roof- but you get the idea. They were all pretty awful, but they all (more or less) worked. And it is because of those cars that I am so excited about THIS one:

This 2008 Swift is my first new car. My first self-funded car. My first flashy conveyor to freedom. And I think that's worthy of a blog post.

They Don't Eat The Turkeys Here

As I watch a bush turkey wobble its fat bottom on the fence in my backyard, I am reminded how much I have to be thankful for.

This year, I've had the opportunity to go diving with sharks, hike over volcanoes, and have adventures with family and friends on both sides of the equator.

I'm with someone who makes me laugh, who isn't terrified by my bursts of weirdness, AND who celebrates me, and my writing, every day.

I have the time, and the courage, to write. And finally, I'm doing it. And loving every minute.

However, I am not thankful for the bush turkeys that crash through our saplings and peck over my leftovers at our favorite cafe. Too bad we aren't supposed to eat them: it's too hot for turkey, anyway.