The Woman’s Study Bible, NIV – Review

The Woman’s Study Bible is a very informative, easy to read, and encouraging Bible. Written as the NIV version, the text is easy to understand compared to other versions of the Bible.  One of the unique features of this Bible are the many areas of reference regarding our daily struggles.  From the mundane of shopping to the personal of a woman’s cycle and growing up, there are sections all throughout that talk about a particular subject then direct you to areas that are applicable.  Charts showing important women of the Bible, along with some you may not have known about as much.  There are quotes regarding spiritual life, and also character portraits.  The beginning of each book has a bit of history and the time period it was written, and by whom. This is definitely a Bible geared specifically and only for women.  There are even parts on the foods and herbs eaten in Bible times.  Clear and concise without a lot of extra dogma. There are lots of little places to get lost reading.

I was quite excited to try this Bible from Thomas Nelson books since I had missed the opportunity to request the Bride’s Bible.  I have this penchant for collecting Bible’s it seems, having about 10 in my collection, so one that was specific for women appealed to me.  I really enjoy this Bible, though I can’t say as I am one to read it all that often, but I’ve never been one to read my Bible all that often either.  Usually I prefer the New American Standard Bible, but this one is very easy to read.

I didn’t like the fact that the references and footnotes were more opinion than directing me to corresponding verses, like I’m used to, however, I still found it nice.  My other complaint would be the color of the cover.  Clay tan/brown would not have been my choice at all for a woman’s Bible.  Why not a pretty purple, lavender, pink, rose, coral, or even the color of the rose on the dust jacket?  The dust jacket was quite nice, but I had to take it off because it squeaked.  But honestly, the color was most annoying to me.  While inside all the highlighted areas are in this pale tan color, the cover is not appealing in the least.

That aside, I really enjoy this Bible.  There are a few areas I disagree with where the publisher put too much of their own specific views, usually in regards to birth control, marriage, children, and such, but on the whole, a very nice Bible.  I had considered possibly using it as a gift in the future for a friend or someone I thought might like it, as I have 10 Bibles, but I like it too much and it will have a place with my other treasured Bible from my uncle who passed away before I was even born.

I recommend this to anyone searching for a nice Bible to give to a woman, girl, or possibly even a  bride, though it is expensive.

I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Signing off

~Kate

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Really, Was Darcy and Rochester Any Better Than Today’s Romantic Life?

Reality is so depressing.

Why is love so awkward and unstreamlined in real life? Can’t we all just be as brave as Mr. Darcy, or Mr. Rochester, or Jane Eyre or Lizzie Bennett?

I read this recently on Tumblr when I was hunting pictures of Mr. Rochester, aka Michael Fassbender.  I sat there for a while, thinking, oh this is a great line.  Why isn’t love like those books.

Then I got thinking.

It wasn’t really so clean cut.  In both Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre, everyone is so vague.  No one just comes out and says, “Hey, I like you, wanna go get a cup of coffee?”  They talk in riddles and vagaries.

It takes Darcy forever before he actually tells Elizabeth that he wants her and he prefaces it with an insult .   Granted, it’s not the world’s worst statement, but a woman would take it as an insult, and I kind of think she should.  I would take it as an insult.  Yes, I would want to be told: “His sense of her inferiority–of its being a degradation–of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit..”

Okay, sure, what he’s saying is that despite all of those obstacles he still wants to marry her, but really, do you want a man that is going to insult you?

And after watching Jane Eyre, and enjoying the film, though I thought there was much that they could have from the book, I found Mr. Rochester  a bit of a jerk.  Now, I have yet to finish the book, though I find I am enjoying it, and I have a feeling there will be more ‘meat’  than the film which seemed to leave much of the conversations out.

While I don’t doubt that Rochester loves Jane, he’s cruel at times, insulting, abrupt, and well, deceitful.  You want him and Jane together, because you can see the purity in Jane’s love, but you know she really needs to leave.  It’s heartbreaking for Jane because she has to leave the man she loves.

When she finally returns to Rochester, a woman grown instead of a somewhat starry-eyed young governess ; a woman who doesn’t need a man to take care of her, the love has changed.  Matured in some ways.   Of course  it took some extreme circumstances, but it’s better.  But the fact that it (the story)  had to go through so much ‘drama’.  And they say people have drama now.  What about Jane and Rochester?  Now that is drama.

Don’t get me started on Emma.  Why, if Mr. Knightly loved Emma, did he wait forever to tell her?  You almost think he’s never going to tell her.  You get so anxious that it’s not going to turn out okay.  I’ve yet to read Emma, it’s on my list, and I’ve not finished Pride and Prejudice, but I have finished Persuasion. Thank goodness for the films, otherwise I might not have gotten through them. The films are the only reason I actually read Persuasion.  Had I gone by just the book, I might not have finished it. Same with Jane Eyre. I had to see the movie to see what I was struggling to get through in the book.

I can relate though to that feeling Meg Ryan says in You’ve Got Mail.  “Confession, I have read Pride and Prejudice two hundred times. I get lost in the language, words like ‘Thither. Mischance. Felicity.’ I’m always in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are really going to get together.”   I feel that way with all of the Jane Austen stories. I felt it with Jane Eyre as well. You really are in agony over whether or not it’s actually going to work out okay, even though you know!

Well, I’m sorry, life is confusing enough. I don’t want a love where I’m in agony over whether or not it’s going to turn out okay.  I was in a relationship like that.  It wasn’t fun. I want to know when a guy likes me. I don’t want to have to sit and guess.  And it wouldn’t hurt if he’s kind, loyal, trustworthy.

So, do I want a Mr. Darcy.?  Only sort of. I would much prefer a Mr. Darcy that won’t insult me. That being said, I still get a delightful thrill thinking about both Darcy and Rochester.

Signing off

~Kate

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The Shiny Down or The Ethereal Up

Similar to what I was seeing. c. K. Branson

Tonight the sky is amazing.  There is an almost full moon and a mountain sky filled with the most beautiful cotton puff clouds.  There is no breeze and the crickets have started their chirping.  I can even here a bird that I have yet to identify but he sounds sort of like he’s laughing.

I am always accused of looking at the sky nowadays.  I’m always looking up, or remarking to someone how beautiful the sky is.  My mother is forever asking me if all I ever do is look up.  I have to blame her though.  For years all I did was look down at the ground.  I was always on the hunt for something shiny.  And the common comment was, “don’t you ever look up?”

So, now I look up.  I still look down.  You never know when you might find that stray dime or quarter.  The common penny.  Heck, you might even find a washer or bit of shiny glass.

I like to think that I can relate to Shelley (Percy Bysshe) and his poetry being ethereal.  While I’ve yet to read much of his, I did find it to be more focused on the air and light things.

I’m not as grounded as I probably should be. I spend way more time daydreaming plotting about things that are far from reality.  Yet, can you name a poet, writer, novelist, etc. that is actually grounded?  They all have their moments of what could be termed insanity, though I would rather say it’s just creativity taking hold.  Take Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets.  She was more melancholy than others, yet there were moments of pure freedom.

That’s what I tend to do. I shy away from the gloom and dreary things in life.  I think sometimes it will hinder my writing.  I don’t have enough conflict.

Well, I’ll go back to my earlier statement.  I blame my mother on why I always look  up.

Pin Curls – Flash Fiction

Old postcard of Mount Shasta

Hello my lovlies.  (I have seen other girl bloggers use that term and it’s so cute)

As you read this, I am off to the wilds of Mount Shasta.  Okay, not actually the mountain as it is covered in snow, but the city below.  I hope it will be a sunny clear day so I might be able to snap a shot or two of the mountain.

I was puttering around with an idea so here is a smidge of flash fiction to start you off on a Monday.  A bit of back story; I love pin curls, and I love putting my hair up in pin curls.  I’ve yet to master it, in fact I usually come out looking like a cross between a poodle and a fight with an electrical socket.  Not a pretty picture.  But I do try and I hope someday I might have them tamed when I do them.  So, there I was, picturing one of my heroines, Rena Bliss, putting up her hair in pin curls.

Enjoy.

She sat at her vanity putting up her hair in pin curls.  She wore a filmy white and pale blue concoction of a summer nightgown; more slip than anything else, though everything essential was modestly covered.  Her glasses were perched o the end of her nose and she frowned intently as she carefully rolled her blond hair up, securing the curl with two bobby pins.

Milo watching in fascination as Rena sectioned and rolled.  She had this perfect set up, her brushes and combs laid out in front of her, spritz bottles of setting lotions and grooming sprays, her bobby pins and other clips in miss matched teacup saucers.  There was a little click and rattle of metal against porcelain every time Rena pulled one out of the dish, then a flash of white teeth as she pried open the pin and jammed it into the curl.  Sometimes she would stop mid curl to take a sip of tea from her pale teal polka-dot teacup.  One hand held the curl in place while the other lifted the cup to lips that were full and very pink.

Rena was pure femininity.  The movements she made, the clothes she wore, down to her pale pink fingernails, she was ultra girl.  Which was funny since country life was hardly conducive to all the girly things about her.  But that’s what made her such a fascination to Milo.  And watching her put up her hair; well that just sealed the deal. 

Pretty, flirty, and sexy as hell.  Yeah, she was a dream girl.

Signing off

~Kate

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Scenes With Musical Inspiration

I first heard about using music to inspire a story when I read all about Stephenie Meyer’s account of writing the Twilight Saga.  While I have always enjoyed music and certain songs make me think of writing a story, I had never put music to a scene like they do in a movie.  Since reading Stephenie Meyer’s account though, I have really used music to instil a character, a scene, a story into my mind.  Where a song becomes the character’s song.  A song becomes the story.

For instance, a novel/romance I started  several years ago about a girl running a bookstore all came from Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Bookends’ song.  Not even the ‘Old Friends’, though I do adore that song as well since it is part of ‘Bookends’, but just the one song. There is no specific reason for that, other than books = Bookends kind of theme.  But, that song is stuck in my head for that.

Recently, as in just this last week and last night a song and scene fit together almost so perfectly I’m slightly amazed.  I would like all you reader’s input. Whether you agree or not, I’d love to know if you think the music I chose fits with the scene I’ll include below.  Kind of like watching a movie and you hear that one song that just fits perfectly with the scene.  The ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ at the end of You’ve Got Mail.  Or the ‘Northern Sky’ by Nick Drake at the end of Serendipity.  (pardon to the guys who may or may not have watched these chick flicks)

The song of choice is from a new band my father found, The Paper Kites.  The song: “Willow Tree March”. You can hear the song below.

And here is the scene. I’ve mentioned Rena and Owen before, if you’ve read some of my flash fiction.  Here they are at it again, only this time, a kiss. Enjoy and I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Rena reached up to hug Owen, pausing as she noticed that he was covered in sawdust and chainsaw oil.  He glanced down and grimaced, but she put her arms around him anyway, hugging him close, not worrying about the grime.  As she pulled away, her eyes rose to his and in that moment she wondered why she had always pulled away from him in every way. She saw the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the intensity that had always been there, but she had shied away from it.

She moistened her lower lip and as his eyes followed the movement they both moved in one motion. He leaned down and she tipped back her head as his mouth settled on hers, closed and just pressing. It wasn’t passionate and it wasn’t spectacular, but when she pulled back and staggered for a moment, she had to grab his arm to steady herself.

“Mmm. Hmm,” Rena hummed a frown forming and wrinkling her nose.  “Could you, uh, try that again?”

Owen’s arm wrapped around her lower back and he tipped her more until for a moment it felt like her world fell away.  She slid her hand around the back of his neck and held on , clutching his neck, as his mouth settled back on hers.  The tingle started and traveled up her back as his mouth pressed gently.  Before he could pull away, Rena gripped his neck firmly and opened her lips to him.  

Rena almost smiled as she felt Owen change his stance to hold her closer as his mouth moved over hers with staggering results.  Her hands clung to him, holding him as close to her as she could.  She cupped his rough cheek with her left hand, her fingers lightly brushing the stubble, while her other hand slid up into his damp hair at the nape of his neck. 

He tasted of pine and the woods.  The hot summer sun beat down on them as the heady, intoxicating smell of pine resin swirled around them, baking and making their temperatures rise. A symphony of sensations assailed Rena’s senses. He smelled like the sawdust and chainsaw oil, of sweat and summer sunshine.  He was pure nature.  His mouth was warm and so soft on hers, his lips moving over hers sipping and tasting her as if she were a glass of brandy.  And around them the buzzing of bees and insects in the meadow combined with the dying of a chainsaw on the edge of the clearing.  A sudden silence that was deafening.

Rena heard a moan then realized that it was her as Owen deepened the kiss.  He tasted her and settled firmly on her mouth.  She couldn’t get enough; it was too much.  She felt as if she could crawl into his skin; she felt like she needed to shove him away and take off all her clothes that were binding her too tight.  Her fingers fluttered on his skin in panic and he gave her space, his face burying into her neck.  

They gasped for breath, heaving against each other, clinging.  His arms were wrapped around her holding her as if she were a lifeline, while she clung to him, pressing her body as close as she could get.

She felt devistated.  Like her world had come crashing down before sending her in a rush to the stars.   Dazed, confused, aroused.  She was a bundle of nerves.  It was stimulus overload.  She shuddered, but couldn’t pull away. 

It was the whistling catcalls that jolted them both back to reality.  They were far from alone.  Instead, they stood in the center of the clearing, the center of attention, a show almost, to the guys cutting with Owen.  Rena turned a bright red and buried her face in Owen’s shirt, mortified.  Not because it was Owen, but she hated being the center of attention.  She would never live this down. Word would get around.

But then Owen’s fingers tilted her chin to look up at him and as he smiled, she forgot again where she was.  She wanted his mouth on hers again, and she knew he knew it.  Finally, they were in sync.

Well, again, I would love feedback.  I doubt this will every go anywhere, but hey, I love tapping out things.

Signing off

~Kate