Teach Your Teenager How to Paint Their Room

It was the same room he'd been given when Ray and Stella Quinn had

brought him home. 

The walls had been a pale green then. 

Sometime during his sixteenth year he'd gotten a wild hair and painted them magenta. 

God knew why. 

He remembered that his mother--for Stella had become his

mother by then--had taken one look and warned him he'd have terminal indigestion.

He thought it was sexy. For about three months. 

Then he'd gone with a

stark white for a while, accented with moody black-framed,

black-and-white photographs.

Always looking for ambiance, Phillip thought now, amused at himself.

He'd circled back to that soft green right before he moved to Baltimore.

Inner Harbor

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When your teenager wants to update their bedroom, why not use it as an opportunity to teach them an important life skill? How to paint a room! We break down the basics so your teenager can make their own decisions, do the work and even clean up. You won’t have to lift a finger, unless you want to.

Family Handyman

Does awe lift your spirits or stress you out?

"It's not for sale," Cam said simply.

"It… is it…" It couldn't be, he thought, while his heart thumped with nerves and hope and shock. But hope was paramount. In the past year he'd learned to hope. "Is it mine?"

"You're the only one with a birthday around here," Cam reminded him. "Don't you want a closer look?"

"It's mine?" He whispered it first, with such staggered delight and shock that Sybill felt her eyes sting. "

Mine?" He exploded with it as he whirled around. This time the sheer joy on his face closed her throat. "To keep?"

Inner Harbor

________________________

By {{{1}}} - Flickr: 'Hands Across the Divide' sculpture, CC BY 2.0, 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19153395

Awe is an awfully complex emotion, conjuring feelings of reverence that can range from wonder to dread. It's a blend of fear and surprise, according to some definitions, although it often feels like more than the sum of those parts.

"Awe is an overwhelming and bewildering sense of connection with a startling universe that is usually far beyond the narrow band of our consciousness," 

mother nature network

________________________

"Reed Valentine would like to schedule a meeting and arrange for a professional demo, in studio, in New York, when it suits you."

She couldn't feel her hands. Or her feet. She realized dizzily that all she could feel was the sudden, ferocious hammering of her heart.

"Reed Valentine? Valentine Records? A meeting? With me? Why?"

"Suddenly you're full of questions." With a laugh, he toasted her again. "Yes, Reed Valentine of Valentine Records wants a meeting with you because he was very favorably impressed with the tape you put together."

"You sent it in? You sent it to Reed Valentine."

"I told you I was going to send it to a connection of mine."

Valentine Records. Now she couldn't feel her own lips. But she could feel the abrupt lurch of her stomach. "I didn't expect—I never thought…"

"Didn't you think I meant it, Cat? I don't play games like that."

"No, I don't—God, I can't breathe." She pressed a hand to her chest as if to push out air, but couldn't find any. "I can't get my breath."

Alarmed, he reached for her. She'd gone dead white. "Hey. Sit down."

"No. Yes. No. I need some air."

She shoved the wineglass into his hand and bolted for the balcony doors. Her head was light, as if she'd swallowed the whole bottle of champagne in one gulp. She couldn't get her breath because the air was trapped somewhere under her diaphragm.

Duncan @ MacGregor Grooms

memories as infants might not be lost

The light from the lamp slanted over her face, caught something, something in her eyes that jiggled at the corners of his memory.

"Did you have a picture on the wall? Flowers, white flowers in a blue vase?"

Her fingers tightened on the brush. "Yes, in my bedroom in New York. One of my watercolors. Not a very good one."

"And you had colored bottles on a table. Lots of them, different sizes and stuff."

"Perfume bottles." Her throat was closing again, so she was forced to clear it. "I used to collect them."

"You let me sleep in your bed with you." His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the vague blips of memory. Soft smells, soft voice, colors and shapes. "You told me some story, about a frog."

The Frog Prince. Into her mind flashed the image of how a little boy had curled against her, the bedside lamp holding back the dark for both of them, his bright-blue eyes intense on her face as she'd calmed his fears with a tale of magic and happily ever after.

"You had—when you came to visit, you had bad dreams. You were just a little boy."

Inner Harbor

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By © Nevit Dilmen, CC BY-SA 3.0, 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28857001

Memory traces from our earliest years might stay in our brains.

Most people don't remember anything before the age of 3, but a new study out of New York University suggests that memories formed in our early years might still be latent in our brains. With the right triggers, those memories might get unlocked, reports New Scientist.

Mother Nature Network

boozing personality types

 He took her hand, held it as the wine was brought to the table, as the label was turned for his approval. He waited while a sample was poured into his glass, watching her in that steady, all-else-aside way she'd discovered he had. He lifted it, sipped, still looking at her.

 "It's perfect. You'll like it," he murmured to her while their glasses were being filled.

 "You're right," she told him after she sipped. "I like it very much."

 "Shall I tell you tonight's specials," their waiter began in a cheerful voice. 

While he recited, they sat, hands linked, eyes locked. 

Inner Harbor

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By Jon Sullivan - pdphoto.orghttp://pdphoto.org/PictureDetail.php?oldpg=2479, 
Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25990

What type of drinker are YOU?

Are you a highly sociable shot clinker, or a clever pleasure-seeker who knows the value of taking your time over your favourite drink?

 DAILYMAIL

__________________

“How ya doing, hotshot?”

“I’m good. How about you, Swede?”

In answer she tapped her third shot glass to his before they tossed back the contents together. She brought the lime wedge to her mouth. “Do you know what I love about tequila?”

“What do you love about tequila?”

“Everything.” 

After a wicked laugh, she drank the fourth with the same careless gusto as the first three. Together they slapped down the empties. 

Chasing Fire

Little kids think birthday parties actually make you get older

"We're having a party," Aubrey told her and put both her hands on Sybill's cheeks 

to ensure her full attention. 

"I'll have a party next time when I'm three. You can come."

Inner Harbor

_____________________

By Patrick Subotkiewiez from BAZIEGE, FRANCE - 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/28781447@N04/8355725866/, CC BY 2.0,

 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29241457

Adorable munchkins fundamentally misunderstand how times passes.

This kid could stay a baby forever if she would just stop having parties!

MSN

open letter to the foster parents

Seth stuck his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to talk to anybody. 
At Grace's he'd been able to just sit on her little stoop, be alone with his thoughts. 
Even when she'd come out for a little while and sat beside him with Aubrey on her knee, 
she'd let him be.
Because she understood he'd wanted to be quiet.


Sea Swept

____________________________

By Mferr020 at en.wikibooks, CC BY-SA 3.0, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9097807

What I hope is that by sharing the tips for foster parents that follow — what hurt and what helped — I can ease the delicate transition from “home” to “foster home."

Here's what I really wish I could have said to those foster parents:

SheKnows

____________________________

The smile, Phillip noted, came much more quickly and easily than it had a few months before. But there was a gap in it.
"Hey." Phillip butted a finger on the bill of the cap. "Lose something?"
"Huh?"
Phillip tapped a finger against his own straight, white teeth.
"Oh, yeah." With a typical Quinn shrug, Seth grinned, pushing his tongue into the gap. His face was fuller than it had been six months before, and his eyes less wary.



Inner Harbor

Mentions in Nora's Novels

He could smell Anna's red sauce simmering, like ambrosia on the air. "God

bless us, every one," he murmured.

"Manicotti," Seth informed him.

"Yeah? I've got a Chianti I've been saving just for this moment." He tossed his briefcase aside. "We'll hit the books after dinner."

He found his sister-in-law in the kitchen, filling pasta tubes with cheese.

Inner Harbor

__________________

MANICOTTI RECIPE - ALLRECIPES

3 A.M.

"It's all right," he murmured.

"I—I thought you'd gone."

"I said I'd stay." He slitted his eyes open, scanned the dull red glow of the bedside alarm. 

"Three A.M. hotel time. Should have figured it."

Inner Harbor

____________

By Pegasus1138 - Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=771921

You Asked: Why Do I Always Wake Up at 3 A.M.?

It all results in the same thing: you just can’t get to sleep. But the underlying causes of insomnia are multiple, and it may be a mix of biological, medical and psychological issues, explains Michael Perlis, director of the Behavioral Sleep Medicine Program at the University of Pennsylvania.

YAHOO!

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At three A.M., when spirits often stir, Jude huddled in bed under a thick quilt with a pot of tea on the table and a book in her hand. The fire simmered in the grate, the mist slid across the windows. She wondered if she'd ever been happier.

And fell asleep with the light burning and her reading glasses slipping down her nose.

Jewels of The Sun

Things All Insanely Stylish People Have in Their Homes

After her nerves settled a bit, she studied the apartment.

A conversation pit in deep forest-green dominated the living area. In its center was a square coffee table.

Riding over it was a large sailboat in what she recognized as Murano glass. A pair of green iron

candlesticks held fat white candles.

At the far side of the room there was a small bar with a pair of black leather stools. Behind it was a vintage poster for Nuits-St.-Georges Burgundy, depicting an eighteenth-century French calvary officer sitting on a cask with a glass, a pipe, and a very satisfied smile.

The walls were white and splashed here and there with art. A framed print of a stylish poster for

Tattinger champagne, with a elegant woman, surely that was Grace Kelly, in a sleek black evening gown behind a slim flute of bubbling wine, hung over a round glass table with curved steel legs. There was a Joan Miro print, an elegant reproduction of Alphonse Mucha'sAutomne .

Lamps were both sparely modern and elegantly Deco. The carpet was thick and pale gray, the

uncurtained window wide and wet with rain.

She thought the room displayed masculine, eclectic, and witty taste. She was admiring a brown leather footstool in the shape of a barnyard pig when he returned with two glasses.

"I like your pig."

"He caught my eye."

Inner Harbor

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By https://www.flickr.com/photos/pbarry/ (https://www.flickr.com/photos/pbarry/4427854878) [CC BY-SA 2.0 
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

People with style seem to naturally ooze the It factor that makes their lives look like the stuff of Instagram dreams. You know the type: They’re impeccably dressed, the best hosts and hostesses, and masters at creating chic yet effortless homes. Curating a naturally sophisticated, style-centric space calls for a few must haves.

MY DOMAINE

__________________

When she left him, Mikhail let his gaze sweep the room. It pleased him. This was not the formal, professionally decorated home some might have expected of her. 

She really lived here, among the soft colors and quiet comfort. 

Style was added by a scattering of Art Nouveau, in the bronzed lamp shaped like a long, slim woman, and the sinuous etched flowers on the glass doors of a curio cabinet 

displaying a collection of antique beaded bags.

He noted his sculpture stood alone in a glossy old shadow box, and was flattered.

Luring a Lady

Introducing Nora Roberts' Books to (MY) Man

It all started with a post I read online. In it a woman said how she'd love to introduce Nora Roberts' novels and characters to her son. She deemed her husband an hopeless case but she would love to "form" her son to be as good - great in fact - as Nora's male characters...


My husband reads frequently. An average of 10 books per year maybe. A leisure and for fun reader. All reading very manly of course. And some from writers that Nora also likes like Stephen King and Paul Auster.


The moment for "making" him read a Nora novel happened after he read his first Nicholas Sparks novel. His sister gave it to him and he - I believe he didn't have any other to read when the craving hit that day - picked it and read. Lots of teasing from my son... My daughter has a more each-to-their-own-what-do-I-care-what-dad's-reading attitude so no ribbing from her... And a plan started in my head...


When he was finished we were in that close-to-Christmas phase when you don't want to spend money indulging... so I pointed him "Sea Swept" in our bedroom shelves... he was like "Nora Roberts? That's for women" and I used something I read in one of NR novels "it doesn't mean you will grow breasts (by reading it)"... he might have (always) been curious about them because after saying "you never know. not taking chances" he was like "are you sure?" and I - using my what-do-I-care face - "sure. you might enjoy. story is nice. characters are fun. give it a try. if you don't like how it goes put it down"


And it ALL started. I used strategy to keep him on the path. I didn't disclose the series had 4 books... Men are such babies... and I kept asking what part he was in and instantly knowing and somehow we bonded over Cam and Seth and their story... midway in the reading I received that smirk meaning it's hot reading with lots of sex going on (with that sneer that meant "dirty lady. I like you, let's neck") ahahahahah

I laughed because he reacted almost in the same fashion  as my daughter - she was fifteen then (!!!) - when she caught me reading one of THOSE pages "Yiikes Mom. Gross" ahahahah... but he didn't put the book away. At all. Nearing the end he even took the book - on disguise ;) - to work so he could finish it during his lunch hour.

When he finished it I said there were books on each brother but he didn't HAVE to read them... Guess what?! - He wanted to...


He's now reading Chesapeake Blue and whenever I look at him he's smiling. I'm even getting a little jealous of Drusilla - this morning my husband called Drusilla by her petit nom - Dru!!! can you believe it? And he used Cam's expression how she's going to drive Seth crazy... with the same Cam's glee...


No, I don't know if he'll go on through all Nora Roberts' Novels I have. I'm not even sure if I want him to... his choice I guess...



A small secret Ladies!!!! He didn't grow breasts but he became - during THOSE parts - a bit more attentive if you know what I mean ;) ahahahahahahah

When Life imitates Art

The light from the lamp slanted over her face, caught something, something in her eyes that jiggled at the corners of his memory.

"Did you have a picture on the wall? Flowers, white flowers in a blue vase?"

Her fingers tightened on the brush. "Yes, in my bedroom in New York. One of my watercolors. Not a very good one."

"And you had colored bottles on a table. Lots of them, different sizes and stuff."

"Perfume bottles." Her throat was closing again, so she was forced to clear it. "I used to collect them."

"You let me sleep in your bed with you." His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the vague blips of memory. Soft smells, soft voice, colors and shapes. "You told me some story, about a frog."

The Frog Prince. Into her mind flashed the image of how a little boy had curled against her, the bedside lamp holding back the dark for both of them, his bright-blue eyes intense on her face as she'd calmed his fears with a tale of magic and happily ever after.

"You had—when you came to visit, you had bad dreams. You were just a little boy."

"I had a puppy. You bought me a puppy."

"Not a real one, just a stuffed toy." Her vision was blurring, her throat closing, her heart breaking.

"You… you didn't have any toys with you. When I brought it home you asked me whose it was, and I told you it was yours. That's what you called it. Yours."

Inner Harbor

_________________

(Painting: The Elder Sister - William-Adolphe Bouguereau)

I read this story and it reminded me of one of my favorite Nora's Books - Inner Harbor. 

Love lasts. Forever.

Yeny llevaba 30 años sin saber nada de Francisco, el niño que acogió

HOLA

Translated into English

UPDATED - BUSINESS INSIDE

_________________

"I didn't think you remembered me. Or any of the time you stayed with me in New York."

"I thought I'd made it up." It was too hard to sit in the boat and look so far up. He climbed out, then sat on the dock to dangle his legs. "Sometimes I'd dream about some of it. Like the stuffed dog and stuff."

"Yours," she murmured.

"Yeah, that's pretty lame. She didn't talk about you or anything, so I thought I'd just made it up."

"Sometimes…" She took the risk and sat beside him. "Sometimes it was almost like that for me, too. I still have the dog."

"You kept it?"

"It was all I had left of you. You mattered to me."

Inner Harbor

Lingerie in Literature

Mmm…" She examined the piece herself. Silk, seed pearls at the bodice. "Probably about one-fifty."
"One hundred and fifty? Dollars?" He shook his head in disgust. "One good tug and it's a rag."

Instantly she bristled. "Our merchandise is top-quality. It will certainly hold up to normal wear."

"Honey, a little number like this isn't designed for normal." He cocked a brow. "Looks about your  size."
"You keep dreaming, Piasecki." She tossed her coat over the love seat. "The point of good lingerie is style, texture. The sheen of silk, the foam of lace. Ours is designed to make a woman feel attractive and good about herself-pampered."
"I thought the idea was to make a man beg."
"That couldn't hurt," she tossed back.

Night Smoke

__________________

 

 

 

Underwear is a visually powerful tool, but how does it fare in the written word?

STYLIST

__________________

He saw with delight that she wore those sexy thigh-hugging stockings again, this time in sheer
smoky-black. He imagined she'd considered that the black bra and panties were proper coordinates.
He thanked God for her practical mind.
"Sybill, I love what goes on under your clothes."
 

Inner Harbor

french fries

"I'm making the fries right now, aren't I?"
"I thought Grace was going to make them."

Steely-eyed, Anna stared at him over her shoulder. "Are you suggesting that I can't make french fries?"
He was bored and restless enough to be pleased that he'd jabbed her ego. "Well, she makes really good
ones."

Inner Harbor

______________

Slow-Fried French Fries

There are certain foods that are better when not made at home, like french fries. 

To achieve golden-brown perfection, you have to fry them twice...

SHINE 

 ________________

"This might be the end of things between us. Can this relationship be
saved? Quick. French fries or caviar?"
"Really, that's ridiculous. French fries, of course."
"Do you mean it?" As if hope had sprung giddily into his heart, he grabbed her hand in a tight grip.
"You're not just saying that to string me along so you can have your way with me?"
"Caviar is fine on occasion, but it's hardly an essential element of life."

Chesapeake Blue