New Hampshire’s Hatchland Farm’s Coffee Milk Reigns

Maui has it's perks, but when I get a hankerin' for Coffee Milk I'm screwed.

Some people put milk in their coffee. At Hatchland Farms in North Haverhill, New Hampshire they put coffee in their milk, a thick, creamy blend of delicious milk with a coffee flavor. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.

Coffee milk was one of the few things on my list of “must haves” when we recently made a visit to family and friends in Vermont and New Hampshire.

For me, hot coffee on a hot summer morning isn’t all it should be. I love coffee—though I’ve cut back the amount I intake significantly in recent years—but I can’t drink it when I already wake up sweating and it’s 90 degrees outside. Enter Hatchland Farm’s Rippin’ Good Coffee Milk to save the day. It’s the perfect summer morning drink—cool, refreshing, with a punch of coffee to get me started.

Hatchland Farms is a family owned and operated business that produces and processes their own milk and ice cream products. The farm produces milk from 400 cows, processes it on the farm, and sells it to home delivery customers as well as retail stores throughout New England.

Trip Advisor rates Hatchland Farm’s ice cream as the “best in the north country!”

Make Hatchland Farm’s ice cream stand in North Haverhill, NH, a must stop if you decide to visit the North Country!

From Tohellwithit – Bad Driving Habits

Introduction
From Tohellwithit is a new series I'll be updating periodically with my optimistic pessimistic thoughts on life, love, and all the monotonous annoyances that ruffle my feathers. Through it I hope to amuse a few readers and provide myself a therapeutic outlet. Enjoy!

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I love driving around and seeing the sights of Maui.

I hate how the locals drive.

PRO TIP

If you ever come to a stop light in Maui, wait a few seconds after the light turns green before you actually go, otherwise you run the risk of getting T-boned by what I have affectionately come to call "a complete moron."

It took me a while to figure this out. I'd be at an intersection three or four cars back. The light would turn green, but nobody would move.

"Move!" I'd say while lifting my hands up off the steering wheel, the universal gesture for, What in God's name are you people doing?

Then one day while approaching an intersection I watched the light turn red as I slowed to a stop, but the car ahead of me plowed through.

"He just ran a red light!" I declared to my wife. "That light turned red looong before he reached the white line. What a complete moron!"

Running red lights is so common in Maui that the locals have learned once a light turns green you need to wait a few seconds just in case there's a red light runner.

Too bad the cost of living in paradise has to be common sense.

From the blissful state of Tohellwithit,

World, Meet My Son

My son has arrived! He weighed 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and was 22 inches long. His name is Tobias Alexander (when I'm mad at him), but most of the time we just call him Toby.

If I could use one word to sum up what I witnessed as my wife labored and gave birth, it would be strength. I saw my wife do the miraculous. I saw her push past limits I never knew she had. I saw two midwives watch stunned at not only the long, hard labor she endured, but the steadfast, resilient, determined, way she handled it with no meds, no hospitals, and after 24 hours of no sleep.

Several times the midwives made remarks like, "Your pain threshold is unbelievable," "You haven't complained once," and "I wish more women handled labor like this."

They were in awe. I was in awe. I've never been more honored to call myself her husband than I am today.

My favorite moment.

Toby was doing fine until his head emerged. His right hand was trapped behind his head by his umbilical cord that was also wrapped around his neck. There were a few moments of worry as the midwives worked to get him free of his little tangled mess.

When he finally came free of the birth canal, the midwives tried to get him to breathe, but he wouldn’t make any noise. They cleared his nose and mouth of fluid, but he still wouldn’t suck in air. 

Dani started praying out loud, “Dear Jesus, help Toby breathe.” The midwives said, “Talk to your baby. Let him hear your voice.” “Breath, Toby,” Dani said. “Come on, Toby.”

That’s when I leaned down real close to him and said, “Hey Toby. This is your daddy. You need to breathe buddy.”

And at the sound of my voice he inclined his head to me and squeaked for the first time.

10 Things I’ve Learned With Apartment Living

I haven’t lived in an apartment in almost twenty years.

Many of my earliest childhood memories take place in Unit F, a small two bedroom apartment in Lyndon Center, VT. There were five other units in the building, and while growing up I experienced a range of colorful people moving through them.

As a kid I wasn’t world-weary enough to know how humble those beginnings were. So as an adult moving to Maui, the idea of living in an apartment didn’t sound too bad. And it’s not.

Mostly.

But I’ve changed. Or maybe living in a house for the last twenty years—three of those years were spent living in my OWN house—kind of ruined me for apartment living, even if our complex is right across the street from the ocean.

Seriously, this is the view from the front of our building!

Here’s what I’ve learned so far.

1. NOISE.

There’s a couple acres of “common area” outside encircled by the four buildings that make up our apartment complex. Every day it gets filled with about 60-80 kids playing hopscotch, basketball, volleyball, tag, yelling, screaming, laughing. It can be kind of a madhouse.

2. SMELLS.

Smells are everywhere. Every time I step out into the hallway there’s a new smell. Sometimes it’s a good smell—like if the guy across the hall is cooking a steak. Sometimes it just smells like old cigarettes and body odor.

3. COMMUNAL LIVING.

In an apartment building no unit is an island unto itself. Every bang on the walls, every fast food wrapper that gets dropped in the elevator, every time someone breaks the washing machine because they overloaded it, EVERYTHING becomes a part of your neighbors’ lives. It's called communal living, and it surprises me how few people understand this concept. Most everyone lives day and night like no one else exists, having shouting matches with their significant others, drunken profanity-ridden tirades, loud music, parties.

I find myself asking, "Are people really so stupid as to be this oblivious?"

And myself answers, "You were being rhetorical right?"

4. TINY SPACES.

You just can’t keep a small apartment clean. Ever. There’s only a few nooks and crannies and drawers to hide stuff, everything else has a designated “pile.”

5. THE LAUNDRY.

Doing laundry isn’t as simple as “throwing in a load.” First, you need a stash of quarters to use the communal washers and dryers, and then you need to time your wash cycles in between everyone else’s—if they're kind enough not to let their freshly dried clothes sit in the machine half the day.

6. SPEED BUMPS.

Urgh! The driveway that circles the complex was recently converted from a two way into a one way, but they didn’t remove the speed bumps. So at every entrance, at every corner, there’s not ONE speed bump, but TWO, not ONE chance to slow to .5-miles-per-hour and enjoy a miniature earthquake, but TWO! It’s like having a roller coaster in your own backyard... sans everything that makes roller coasters fun.

7. COMMON DECENCY.

Some people don’t have it. They smoke cigarettes in the entryway (even though the building policy clearly states smokers must be a minimum of twenty feet from the building). They walk around without shirts on, beer bellies on proud display. They curse at their kids in the parking lot. They have domestic fights at the top of their lungs that go on for hours—seriously, how can anyone yell and curse for an hour?

8. WE HAVE A POOL!

In the daytime the pool is pretty much vacant until the kids get home from school, so Dani and I try to use it shortly before noon. She likes laying out in the sun. My Scottish skin doesn’t. So while she tans I sit in the shade and read.

9. SIMPLE LIVING.

We left Vermont with four suitcases full of the bare necessities. It was hard leaving so much behind, but we’re realizing how easy it is to get along without so much... stuff. Would my waffle maker be nice? Sure, but you know what, pancakes are just as good!

10. IT’S PARADISE.

I mean, really, at the end of the day I’m still living in freaking Maui! Every night as Dani and I pray together I’m thankful for how blessed we are to be here.

From Un-me To Real Me: The Birth of "Children of the Falls"

Part 7

We now return to the exciting adventures of Craig William Thomas, his turbulent start as a writer, his hatred for all things Twilight, and how a dip into the waters of self-publishing re-ignited his passion for writing.

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If you're truly passionate about something you can't give up on it. Even if you try, your passion won't let you.

I tried to ignore my passion for writing for six years—there had just been too many disappointments and unfulfilled expectations. I thought I was done. I thought my interest in writing was a phase that had come and gone.

But passions don't die.

My employer had recently cut my hours to 20 per week. On top of finding myself with extra time on my hands, a royalty check from Amazon for some ebooks I had self-published lit a spark under my butt.

And that's when my desire to write returned with a vengeance. Unbeknownst to me an entire cast of characters had been building in my brain and they had a lot to say! Once I started letting them speak they wouldn't shut up. For a year I wrestled with sleep, anxiety, and attention problems as these characters poured their souls out to me. I couldn't write fast enough. The story just flowed.

Children of the Falls was born.

Where Serpents Strike Children of the Falls, Vol 1

Where Evil Abides Children of the Falls, Vol. 2

And this time, I didn't care about Stephenie Meyer and her crappy multi-million dollar novels. I wasn't writing to compete with her. Nor was I writing to impress some big publishing house. They could go play their money-grubbing marketing schemes all they wanted, preferably far away from me. I also decided I wasn't concerned about an audience. I had wasted too many years writing what I thought people wanted to read. It was clear to me that, good or bad, people would read anything, so trying to convince them that my work was superior to anyone else's was a waste of time.

I was writing for an audience of one—me. I was going to write my ultimate story. It would incorporate everything I love, take all the directions I wanted it to take, be as violent and scary and fantastical as I wanted it to be.

Sorry mom.

Children of the Falls actually began with an idea I had about nine years prior. The idea was simple: make an army of medieval super soldiers by training children from the youngest age possible. Think Spartan warriors meets kung-fu meets horror movies.

I had actually outlined a trilogy of books based on this premise called Edhen that I tinkered with over the years, but I was never satisfied with it. It served as the backbone to this new incarnation, expanding from three books to nine, from a trilogy spanning one continent with multiple kingdoms to three continents, dozens of kingdoms, multiple religions, languages, and cultures, and hundreds of characters.

It's been a fascinating journey, but something tells me it's just getting started.

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Part 1: From Un-Me To Real Me: Discovering My Passion For Writing

Part 2: From Un-Me To Real Me: Writing For My Mother

Part 3: From Un-Me To Real Me: What I Learned From Horror Movies

Part 4: From Un-Me To Real Me: Giving Up On My Dreams

Part 5: From Un-me To Real Me: How Stephenie Meyer Killed My Muse

Part 6: From Un-me To Real Me: How Getting Laid Off Gave Me My Spark Back

Part 7: From Un-me To Real Me: The Birth of "Children of the Falls"

From Un-me To Real Me: How Losing My Job Gave Me My Spark Back

Part 6

If you're just tuning in, I've been recounting how I got started with writing novels at the age of 14, developed a love of horror movies, lost my spark when author Stephenie Meyer ruined my life, and ended up where I am today.

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I always tell people, "If you want to get good at writing, go work for a newspaper."

Nothing will help you write faster, better, and conquer writer's block more quickly than having to write an 800 word story twenty minutes before deadline.

I know this from experience. I did it for five years.

Journalism was a good day job for me, but, as you may recall from my last entry, that was only until Stephenie Meyer, author of those soul-destroying Twilight books, crippled my interest in writing. Once that was dead, so was my passion for journalism.

So I moved into pagination, editing, and graphic design. My work caught the attention of a local marketing company that eventually hired me to be a full time graphic artist at their small publishing house. For years I designed book covers, illustrations, graphics, websites, business cards, digital books, book trailers, bookmarks, and much, much more. In fact I still work for them on a case-by-case basis today.

An itty-bitty sampling of my work.

Seeing the world of publishing from the inside out was a unique experience. I began to see just what kinds of difficulties publishers faced, how it has become a challenge for them to make a book successful, and how risky it is to spend months—maybe even years—preparing to launch a new author's work.

I also realized just how hard it was for an author to make a living writing books. Most of our authors went nowhere. Most of them suffered from what I perceive to be the biggest misconception among writers today—being a successful writer isn't about creating good writing, it's about marketing. There are tons of great writers out there, but few of them will ever be successful because they don't know how to market.

Our writers promised us all sorts of things.

"I have a huge email list that I'm going to use to promote the book."

"I've got thousands of fans on Twitter and Facebook, and I'm going to market to them!"

"I'm going to travel around to bookstores and libraries with my book."

"I'll use my professional speaking platform to spread the word about my book."

But few of them actually followed through. Once the book came out, the excuses started tumbling in.

"I'm just too busy right now."

"My speaking engagements are not really for my book."

"My email list is technically for my company, not myself."

"I didn't really have a good marketing plan."

"I don't know what to do!"

So the little marketing/publishing company that I worked for found itself losing lots of money. They couldn't afford to keep me on staff, but they didn't want to let me go either. They decided to cut my hours to part time while they reevaluated their business in hopes of hiring me back again if/when things picked up.

And then I found myself with about 20 extra hours a week on my hands. I spent some of it investing in some projects around the house that needed tending, and I did eventually get a part time job driving package trucks for UPS to help make ends meet.

But the real kick in the brain pan came when I got an unexpected check from Amazon.

Remember those two books I co-authored with my friend Mitch?

Well, after our publishing company failed to uphold their end of our contract, we asked for our books back. They begrudgingly agreed. Then, in an attempt to please our minuscule number of fans, we re-published the books on our own. (I had spent enough years designing books that setting them up was a breeze.) And the ebooks sold like hot cakes!

And that check from Amazon? It was almost enough to pay the mortgage that month. Wowzers!

I used to think there was no money in writing novels, but I was wrong. There was money to be had, but the method of getting it had changed.

My muse was coming alive again.

To be continued...

From Un-me To Real Me: How Stephenie Meyer Killed My Muse

Part Five

I've been reflecting on my journey as a writer, what drew me into the world of writing and shaped my style, and how my muse came to a sudden and depressing end...

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For fourteen years I had been obsessed with writing. I had written about nine books, two of which had been published and a third had just spent three years in limbo with a publisher that didn't fulfill its end of the bargain. My co-author and I were at odds, and my "writing career" was not what I had hoped it would be.

I was discouraged, depressed, dissatisfied, and done.

Along came Stephenie Meyer in 2007 with a teen vampire novel called Twilight. For reasons I have never been able to figure out her books took the world by storm. When the movies began to hit in 2008, Meyer made millions off her three novels and four films over the next five years.

Here's the thing that pisses me off about Stephenie Meyer: her books were horribly written; the characters were boring, unrealistic, and one-dimensional; the pace of the story was dreadfully slow (she routinely violates the "show don't tell" rule of storytelling); the plot was thin and unoriginal, and YET teenagers devoured these books like candy.

I agree with author Stephen King, who, in an interview with USA Weekend, said, "Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."

DISCLAIMER: If you're a fan of Twilight, I apologize. It is not the intention of this article to demean fans of the franchise. I'm a huge fan of the 1987 Dolph Lundgren film Masters of the Universe. It was a truly bad film, but there's something about it that awakens the kid in me and I simply love it. So if Twilight is your thing, I understand, but that doesn't change the fact that "Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn."

The Great Satan of Literature?

Before you ask, yes, I read the first book in her series, Twilight. I had to see for myself what all the fuss was about. I plowed through it in an afternoon, speed-reading through her horrendous over-use of adverbs, the atrocious dialogue, and her repetitive descriptions of the oh-so-hot male characters. I could spend hours picking apart Meyer's inability to structure a story, design characters of any depth, craft an intriguing romance, or write an action scene—and I have... all over the internet in fact.

Here's the thing...

I remember back in 1998 when Director Michael Bay released Armageddon, People magazine published a story on why some big-shots in Hollywood viewed Michael Bay as "the great satan of movies." Their point was simple: Michael Bay's over-stylized and empty-headed approach to filmmaking was devaluing the craft.

Michael Bay says, "Talk to the hand!"
as he walks to the bank.

I'm calling out Stephenie Meyer—though I am hardly the first to do so—to say that she's doing the same thing to the craft of writing, her and the slew of copycats and wannabes she inspired—yes, I'm thinking about you E.L. James.

Do I think my writing is superior? Absolutely! And I can point to a hundred other indie authors whose work is superior to mine who are worth all the books sales Meyer got and much more.

Here was Stephenie Meyer, a middle-aged soccer mom with no previous interest in writing, churning out the most basic, badly written, adjective-stuffed melodramatic teenage drivel and making millions, and yet thousands of other writers, myself included, with much better ideas and years of practice couldn't get a single publisher to take a chance on us.

The Real Problem

But Meyer's success put a big spotlight on the real problem—big publishers.

I began to realize that publishers aren't seeking quality work anymore. They're looking to fill a predetermined novel mold established by a marketing team to guarantee major sales. They don't care about content or genre or how good or bad an author is at their craft. They know the market and they want content to fill what the market wants as quickly and cheaply as possible.

Author Alan Moore said in November, 2015, “Publishing today is a complete mess. I know brilliant authors who can’t get their books published." He went on to explain that the reason is because publishing houses are afraid of taking risks on fiction. Moore’s solution? “Publish yourself. Don’t rely upon other people.” (Alan Moore Advises New Writers to Self-Publish Because Big Publishers Suck.)

Big publishers just want to meet the market demands and make as much money as they can in the process.

This is a major shift from just a few decades ago when publishing companies were all about discovering the next great American novel, which is a shame, really. The literacy level in America has been dropping for years. The LA Times, The Huffington Post, The New Yorker, The Washington Post, and many other publications have been spotlighting this problem for the last ten years. Whether work like Meyer's is a contributing factor or just a sign of the problem is open for debate, but either way she, along with the companies that publish her, is not helping.

I suppose the fault is more than just bad authors and lazy publishers too. With the rise of self-publishing and digital books, combined with the increasing cost of paper and printing, publishers started realizing that the old way of doing things was no longer working. Editors no longer had the time to sift through stacks of manuscripts to determine which novel was most worthy of publication. The digital age was booming fast, more and more people were writing books, and publishers had to act as quickly as possible to keep money flowing in.

And they've been making bad decisions ever since.

So after reading Twilight and seeing first hand the kind of awful literature the market was willing to settle for, and after I had begun to get a glimpse of what the world of publishing was becoming, I decided I was done.

And my muse died.

To be continued...

From Un-Me To Real Me: Giving Up On My Dreams

Part 4

I've been reflecting on my journey as a writer, how psychological horror movies began influencing my style, pushing me beyond boundaries that my co-author wasn't comfortable with.

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A QUICK RECAP

After my first fantasy novel had been published when I was 17, my friend Mitch came to me with an idea for another fantasy novel. He knew he wasn't the strongest writer, but he had great ideas. So together we spent several years crafting a trilogy and book one was published in 2004.

OK, MOVING ON...

The publishing company we were signed with was a small outfit based in Virginia. They were putting out quality work, but they had limited resources.

They also strung us along and screwed us over, but I'll get to that.

When my co-author and I submitted a sequel to them for publication in 2010 they seemed more than excited about its quality and content. We signed a contract that stated the book had to be published within two years or we, the authors, would have the right to shop it to other publishers.

Honestly, I don't know what happened. Maybe this small little publishing company bit off more than it could chew. Maybe sales of all its books were so bad that it started to go under. Maybe the personal problems assailing the executive editor were bogging things down. All I know is that two years came and went and our sequel still wasn't published.

I had sort of given up on it anyway. My co-author and I had reached some disagreements about the resolution of the third book in our trilogy and we couldn't settle on an ending.

A few character sketches I did for our book series.

A pensive old codger.

A dark warrior anti-hero sorta guy.

The bad guy... in case you couldn't guess.

So what happened?

I'm glad you asked!

When Mitch brought me his outline for the first book in our series he literally had a beginning and an ending, but no idea on how to get there.

So I did the writing. We'd meet, discuss our ideas, flesh out the story, and then I'd go home and write some chapters. A week or two later we'd meet and discuss what I'd written. And back and fourth we went until the manuscript was finished.

From my point of view I was the one who was living and breathing these characters. I was the one who was getting inside their heads and trying to figure out what they were thinking and what was motivating them. Mitch knew them very well also, just not as good as I did. I'll understand if I sound like I'm high atop a horse here, but both Mitch and I knew this was the case.

Now there comes a point with every book that I write where the characters start speaking to me. (Check out What My Non-Writing Friends Will Never Understand About Me if you're curious about how insane I am.) It usually happens if I've scripted something that goes against the grain of the character. I'll feel the character in my head saying, "No, this isn't what I want to do." And if I allow it the character takes my story in new directions far more interesting than anything I had conceived.

Mitch didn't understand this. So when one of our characters started speaking to me, telling me how he wanted the story to go, Mitch wasn't in agreement with the changes.

In fact, he had his own idea for a complete rewrite. He wanted to start the book over from scratch! Years of work and he wanted to start over.

I said, "No, thank you. I want to be done with this series. In fact, I want to be done with writing. We're barely breaking even on our book sales. The time and effort isn't worth it. There's no money in writing. I want to be done. I want out. We can finish what we started, but no WAY are we starting over."

And that little impasse is what pushed me into giving up on writing.

I admit, I was a bit depressed. There was other life stuff going on at the time that was stressing me out, but I think my interests were changing also. I thought my creative life was headed in a different direction.

And, honestly, it was time to go get a real job. I was an adult now and I needed money.

But my depression was about to reach new lows thanks to a little push from Stephanie Meyer, author of Twilight.

To be continued...




PS. Think it's time to give up on your dream of writing? Maybe it is. Read, Six Signs It's Time To Give Up On Writing, by Chuck Wendig, or here's a more palatable post, Signs It’s Time to Give Up on Your Dream of Being a Writer.

10 Things We Hated About Selling Our New Hampshire House

And 10 Things We Loved

Our house was built in the late 1800s. The foundation was restored in the 1970s. New windows and siding were added about ten years before we bought it.

Despite how new it looked, the house had old bones. Seriously old bones. And the amount of upkeep required was wearing us down. Dani hated having to pay for the cost of repairs, and I hated doing most of the repairs. (I am NOT a handyman.) The mortgage wasn’t so bad, but it was getting expensive just to maintain the property. We also didn’t like being so far away from our families, our church, and my job. Gas prices were killing us!

As much as Dani and I loved our 4-bedroom home on its 4 acres of beautiful grassy hillside property, we were starting to resent the amount of work it was costing us. And after going through Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University we became convinced that living in debt to our house wasn’t the best place to be investing so much of our finances.

So we made the decision to sell.

Our realtor seemed convinced that the house would be a quick sale. It was in a prime spot. It had lots of space. It was affordable. She expected it to sell within three months.

Well it took almost ten months! Ten months of showings and offers and waiting and things not working out. Ultimately, selling the house proved to be a bag of mixed feelings.

Here are 10 things that we LOVED and 10 things that we HATED about selling our house.

10 Things That We Hated

1. Paying for it.

Dani and I moved in with my Grandma after we decided to sell, and paying for a mortgage on a house that we weren't living in became kind of a drag.

2. The constant showings.

I really wanted the house to be sold before winter, because I knew if it didn’t I’d be making frequent trips to the house to shovel out the walkways and do fairly regular check-ups in case the realtor had a showing. Well, that’s EXACTLY what I ended up doing because the house didn't sell before winter.

3. Never-ending “house” questions.

We were fortunate to have a lot of people praying for us as the struggle to sell our house became more problematic, but that meant answering questions like “Did you sell the house yet?” or “How’s the house sale going?” about ten times a day, more on weekends. My unchanging response of “No movement yet,” got REALLY old.

4. Realtor’s giving us false hope.

I don’t know what other people’s experiences have been like with realtors, but we got the feeling our realtor was giving us a lot of sweet frosting on top of what was, otherwise, a stale cake. Every time she had a showing she’d make a big deal of it. Every time she spoke to potential buyers she made it sound like they were REALLY interested. Ok, well, why aren’t we getting any offers if so much great stuff is happening.

5. Packing and packing and packing.

When we moved to Grandma’s we left a lot of our stuff in the house because our realtor said if the rooms looked like they were being lived in it would make it easier for buyers to imagine their own lives there. Still, every time I’d go visit the house I’d try to pack up some boxes to put in storage—dishes, movies, bedding, office stuff. Bit by bit. Little bit little. Ugh.

6. Hearing what the buyers didn’t like.

Our house was an old house. Old houses have slanted floors, old knob and tube wiring, funky baseboard heating, and many other oddities that you just don’t find in modern homes. And you know what, that stuff is fine. The inspector might throw a fit if he sees old wiring, but that wiring has been there for decades. It's not plugged in and it's not going to hurt anyone. My Grandma’s house is filled with old wiring. So is Dani's parents' house. It’s fine. Ignore it. It’s in the walls. It’s hidden. It’s not a big deal. But buyers would freak out about that stuff, stuff we couldn’t really do anything about. I’m sorry, I’m not ripping apart all the sheetrock to make sure there’s no old wiring.

7. Itty bitty living space.

We went from a 4-bedroom, 2,400-square-foot home to a tiny little one bedroom space at Grandma’s. We shared the kitchen with her. We shared the bathrooms. I had lived with Grandma back when I was single, and she’s the sweetest most generous lady in the world, but being married is different. Sometimes there just wasn’t enough space.

8. Making sure the house was clean.

Every time there was a showing I’d have to go over to the house and clean up—rake the yard, mow the lawn, shovel snow, dust, vacuum, and do whatever needed to be done. Sure, we weren’t living there, but that doesn’t mean that all maintenance had to stop. I began to feel like a maid service.

9. Waving goodbye to opportunity.

Every time a buyer would pass on the house or we’d hear about another house in our neighborhood that sold, we’d get this feeling of sadness because there went another opportunity. We'd say to ourselves, “If only we had done THIS,” or “Maybe if we had tried THAT,” then maybe we would’ve got the sale.

10. Haggling over prices.

Buyers always ask for the price to be lowered. Always. They’ll find any contingency they can just to get you to come down $3,000 or $5,000. We expected that. What we didn’t expect was the stupid reasons they would find to have the price lowered. Our realtor would say, “They’re offering THIS MUCH, but only if the cement slab the old shed is on is removed,” or “They like the property, but they want you to knock of $2,000 to replace the latticework on the porch.” *palms face*

Our beautiful backyard with over an acre of green grass, lilac bushes, raspberries, grapes, and gardening space.

The path leading up to the woods. Another three acres to roam around on, snowshoe, hike, and explore.

Our big old New Hampshire house in spring.

10 Things That We Loved

1. Learning what we really want.

Living in that house for three years taught us a lot about what we really want out of home.

2. Grandma.

She loved having us live with her, helping around the house, mowing the lawn, shoveling snow, and we loved living with her rent free, which was a HUGE help because we were still paying our mortgage.

3. Having time to breath.

While living at our house we were so preoccupied with leaks in the basement, peeling paint, snow on the porch, and ticks in the backyard, that we sort of lost our vision for our family. Selling the house and living with Grandma for a year gave us the *inhales long and slow* that we needed.

4. Being closer to family.

We were about half an hour from anything—my work, my family, Dani’s family, our church. So moving closer to all of that was a huge bonus!

5. Learning more about each other.

I was the one who complained the most about our old house, but when it came to selling it I had the hardest time letting go. Dani, on the other hand, complained the most about selling it—about having to pack everything up, about the process of moving, about the pains of waiting and wondering and hoping for the house to sell. When it did finally sell, she was the happiest. It was funny how we approached the situation so differently.

6. All of our caring friends.

The same group of friends who prayed with us when we bought the house, also prayed for us as we went through the process of selling it. I was afraid they would laugh at us. “You wanted this house so bad a few years ago, and now you want to sell it?! What’s wrong with you?” But they were all very gracious, generous, helpful, and understanding.

7. Learning to let go.

Selling our home was a situation that was truly beyond our control. All we could do is wait and trust and hope that God and the universe and fate and destiny would bring along the right buyer at the right time. It was truly a practice of patience.

8. Mowing Grandma’s lawn.

I grew up playing in that yard. My Grandpa (who passed away a few years ago) taught me how to use a riding lawn mower in the yard. And I spent many years helping him maintain it as a teenager. Returning to that property and caring for the lawn made me feel close to him again, even though he was gone. I don’t think I ever enjoyed mowing grass as much as I did those two summers we lived with Grandma.

9. Being with family.

Grandma’s house is pretty much the epicenter of the Grant family. All my uncles and many of my cousins pass through that house weekly. It was fun getting to see so much of family. It was like God knew we were going to be moving 4,900 miles away soon and he was giving us that year to spend with them all.

10. Saving money.

After our house sold we lived with Grandma for a while longer. It was nice not having any debt, no mortgage, and no rent. We were able to save our money as we planned for our next stage in life.

I know I may sound like an ungrateful prude. We owned a house. We were very fortunate. I get that. And looking back I can see that I worried and grumbled a LOT more than I should have.

It's life experiences like this that help us appreciate what we do or don't have. Every moment is a gift, every thing we own and every breath we take is a blessing.

I'm excited to see what's in store for us next.

From Un-Me To Real Me: Discovering My Passion For Writing

Part 1

For as long as I can remember I've had two passions: art and writing.

Ever since I could hold a crayon I've been drawing. Everything my eyes could see I drew. As a teenager I didn't go out and party on Friday nights because I didn't care about that stuff. I cared about art. My eyes couldn't stop looking around and my fingers couldn't stop interpreting what my eyes were seeing.

An old pencil sketch.

My interest in the visual medium turned to movies. I was obsessed with the old Disney animated classics like Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, and Beauty and the Beast. I wanted to tell stories through the art of filmmaking.

But there was one little problem. Hollywood.

Even as a teenager I was able to recognize that Hollywood was a dump. The masquerading and narcissism and lying and whoring and nonsense required to make it in Hollywood was sickening to me. I admire anyone who can endure that kind of treatment and posturing, but it's not what I was cut out for.

As a kid from Nowhereville, Vermont I would have to work doubly hard just to get to Hollywood, not to mention figuring out how to get involved in movies.

This was before the days of the internet where everything you ever wanted to know was at your fingertips. I had no idea that there were schools for animation and movie making.

This is an old fight scene I filmed with a friend of mine as part of a movie we made when we were teenagers. We were our own gang, and this was our drug!
But I had all these stories that I could see in my head. They'd play through my brain like movies.

And so I started writing them down.

I wrote my first novel at the age of 14. It was called Unknown, and it was about two teenagers who spend a horrifying night barred up in a tree house as an unknown creature of some sort tries to get in and rip them to shreds. I wrote it on an old DOS computer before the days of Microsoft Worthless and Spellmesser. I think the novel was about 65,000 words. Not bad for a first time effort.

And then the computer I was working on crashed and all of my data was lost.

I moped about it for a while, but I started writing again, this time in what would become my genre of choice, medieval fantasy. I was inspired by—as most all fantasy writers are—The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, and newer works like R.A. Salvatore's The Dark Elf series.

My second novel was 95,000 words, and I submitted it for publication when I was 16. After about four rejection letters I got an email from a small company called EricaHouse. They specialized in first time authors. They liked that I was so young and showed so much potential. They liked my book and wanted to publish it.

What should've been a great opportunity turned into a lesson for the naive.

To be continued...

Studies Prove It: Daylight Saving Time Is Asinine

It's always been my personal belief that Daylight Saving Time is stupid. Turns out I was right. Turns out that aside from increasing risk of heart attack, providing adverse mental health in some people, screwing with national and international communication, mixing up global transportation patterns, frustrating farmers, complicating business transactions, and ruining my life twice a year, the only positive thing about DST is that at one point in history it didn't exist.

When The Dumb Began

DST has been used for about 100 years, although its genesis is credited to Benjamin Franklin, according to www.timeanddate.com. Franklin proposed the idea—although a little jokingly—to economize the use of candles by getting people out of bed earlier in the morning, making use of the natural morning light. The idea was never implemented in his lifetime because people didn't take it seriously.

It wasn't until 1895 that a New Zealand entomologist (bug-collector) by the name of George Vernon realized that his love affair with bugs could last longer every day if he had more daylight hours to play with. He proposed a two hour time shift instead of the one that we grudgingly endure today.

This idea was picked up by another genius, William Willett, whose motivation for lobbying DST was his growing aggravation that dusk kept cutting short his after hours game of golf.

That's right, folks. Golf.

It wasn't until World War I that this idea began to catch on. While Europe did its best to commit genocide the west thought DST would be a great way to save energy during war time. DST wasn't observed again until WWII and was officially adopted in the US in 1967.

The "Energy Conservation" Myth

Energy conservation has long been touted as one of the many reasons for DST to remain in effect (though just how much energy it saves has never been proven), but even if DST did, at one point, help save energy, energy consumption has changed greatly since the days of coke stoves and steam engines. In a 24/7 global economy DST no longer serves its purpose.

Most modern studies of DST show little to no benefit and/or reason for it in regards to energy conservation.

What The Facts Show 

• The National Research Council of Canada issued a report in 2008 that indicated fuel consumption actually rises during DST because "…with an extra hour of daylight in the evening people tend to go out more."


• One of the major backers of legislation to keep DST in effect is 7-Eleven, ostensibly to allow the good children of America more time to go out and buy a torso-sized Slurpie. Obesity, folks. DST contributes to obesity.


• When Indiana made DST mandatory in 2006, Dr. Matthew Kotchen examined several million monthly meter readings from a three year period. He found that having the entire state switch to DST each year, rather than remain on Standard Time, cost Indiana households an additional $8.6 million in electricity bills.


• Arizona does not recognize DST. They tried it for one year in the 1960s, but there was so much negative reaction that they never tried it again. Some also said that without DST, the state still managed to save heating and cooling energy in the summer (northern hemisphere) months.


• Kazakhstan abolished DST in 2005, citing negative health effects on more than 51 percent of its population.


• Farmers, who must wake with the sun no matter what time the clock says, are greatly inconvenienced by having to change their schedules to market their crops to businesses observing DST and therefore generally oppose it. (www.standardtime.com)


• In 2008 The Wall Street Journal declared: "Daylight Saving Wastes Energy," and cited Dr. Kotchen's report as well as others.

The "Circadian Rhythm"

Health therapist Shawn Kirby says the negative health repercussions of DST can last for weeks in some people. He says the human body's physical and mental behavioral swings caused by day/night changes and sleep patterns—known as the Circadian Rhythm—is essential to a person's mental health and balanced stress levels. This natural rhythm within our own bodies connects us to the world while DST routinely interrupts it.

"Suicides in men and heart attacks were both found to significantly spike with the 'Spring Forward,'" Kirby says.

In Closing

Even apart from the data, DST shows no reasons to exist. I mean, "time," as we know it, is an artificial construction, measured only by agreed-upon convention. The only purpose of measuring time with a clock is to coordinate action. The actual numbers on a clock don't matter; the clock says whatever we, as a society, agree that it should say. On a global scale observing DST completely destroys the original purpose for which time and the clock were created—some countries observe it; some don't. As a result world time becomes confusing. While observing DST, time zones get screwed up; all clocks and electronic devices must be changed, or programmed to run functions that cause the change. This massive, mostly-computerized switchover inconveniences millions of businesses and individuals every year. DST interrupts what is, otherwise, a smoothly operating convention of coordinating global actions.

Let's face it, DST is an outdated, onerous, ridiculous, asinine "illusion." It is unneeded, unwanted, and pointless. If you really need an extra hour of daylight to play gulf or hunt bugs, GET UP AN HOUR EARLIER!

Stop the madness of pointlessly changing time twice a year. End Daylight Saving Time! Sign the petition at www.standardtime.com.

Moving to Maui: Surviving the Dreaded DMV

The DMV sucks. Even in Maui. Like any government-run organization it just can't do things quickly, easily, efficiently, or without the hair-pulling frustration of the latest nonsensical Common Core Standards.

Seriously, what's the greatest innovation at the DMV in the last 40 years? A bench? A “Take a number” system? Great, the DMV has finally narrowed the gap with my local super market.

All kidding aside (I know I started the above paragraph with "Seriously..." but, seriously, I'm just kidding around here.)

Anyway, when you move to Hawaii there are a few interesting things to keep in mind when it comes to transferring your driver's license, registering your car, and buying insurance.

To help you avoid the clunky process we went through, here are the steps of how things should be done.

STEP 1: What NOT to do

If you sell your vehicle with the intention of buying a new one in Hawaii, don't be so quick to cancel your insurance. When you apply for new auto insurance there are discounts offered for being "previously insured." Have your old policy number handy when you're talking to an insurance rep.

STEP 2: Earning your driver's license... again

Fortunately the DMV in Maui isn't as scary as it is everywhere else in the universe. However it is a little strange. To get your Hawaii driver's license you'll need to take a 25 question multiple-choice written test, an eye test, get your photo taken, and your thumb and index finger printed. You'll need two forms of ID (i.e. old driver's license, passport, birth certificate) and two pieces of mail confirming your place of residence in Hawaii. It's cost you about $15.

STEP 3: Passing the safety inspection

All cars in Hawaii two years old or older have to undergo a pretty strict environmental safety inspection. You will need to have proof of insurance, the vehicle's current registration (even if it's in the previous owners' name), and the title with you when you go to have this done.

STEP 4: Back to the DMV. Oh yay.

Actually, like I just said in Step 2, they've got that "Aloha spirit" at the Hawaii DMV, so it's not that bad, even if the wait time is three hours. To register your car you will need a) proof of insurance, b) safety inspection certificate, c) title, d) screwdriver for applying/removing new/old plates, e) patience, f) approximately $16.

All of these steps in this order work as a kind of combination lock. Once completed you will be welcomed into the bosom of mother Maui with a flowery lei and a luau. Ok, not really, but it'll feel like this...

Island Time: I Don't Know What It Is But It's Awesome

I think my wife and I were destined to be "islanders" the day we decided to honeymoon on Kelly's Island in Lake Erie and we got our first taste of "island time."

Actually, we wanted to hit up the roller coaster capital of the world in Sandusky, OH, but then someone told us about Kelly's Island, which is just a short ferry ride north. So on our honeymoon we rode roller coasters and spent a lot of time basking in the sun in a little island community. And I loved it!

Island time is defined differently depending on who you ask. Some say it simply means a time later than what the clock says. Others say it has to do with an unwillingness to conform to the norms and structure of modern culture.

But it's more than that.

Island time encompasses a way of life in relation to the attitude you have about the world and the people around you. It's no coincidence that islanders have far fewer worldly possessions and are happier, feeling more fulfilled with a love for life and experiences. They're enriched by enjoying every moment that passes. Not concerned about the mistakes of yesterday. Not worried about tomorrow, but fully involved in today. THAT'S island time.

When Danielle and I vacationed in Maui, HI, last January we fell in love with the place. It was like coming home, a feeling I never felt before.

Even before that, however, we were feeling called to a simpler life. We sold our house. We started downsizing our possessions. And once we got a taste of Hawai'i we slowly began the long process of moving there. Right now we hope that by January we'll officially be "islanders."

What does this mean for my writing career? I'm hopeful that nothing will change. I've been writing since I was 14. Had my first novel published when I was 18. I've authored two other books and edited, illustrated, and designed countless others.

With my fingers fully embedded into my new fantasy series Children of the Falls, I'm in for the long haul. I look forward to completing this series while sitting on the beach, enjoying the sights and sounds of the ocean, pretty girls, and pina coladas.

"Well Aren't You Just The World Traveler"

Seattle's Olympic Sculpture Park.

In January we took a celebratory trip to Maui, HI, for finally selling our home and becoming debt-free. My wife took a trip to Florida for a business convention, and we both just returned from a two-week visit to the west coast.

When people from a tiny rural part of the northeast (like us) go anywhere, they'll get bombarded upon their return with the phrase, "Well aren't you just the world traveler!" Because to go anywhere when you're home town is very, very pathetically small makes you a "big deal." Apparently.

Travel has been enlightening for my writing. Every time I visit some place new I get a different perspective on things. While we were in Oregon I kept looking around at nature and saying, "I need to figure out what kind of trees these are because this is just what I imagine the kingdom of Tay to look like!" It drove my wife nuts.

175 feet up in Seattle's famous ferris wheel. 

Dutch Bros. coffee!

Nothing grabbed my heart more than the coffee though. Up and down the west coast there are these little drive-through coffee stands called Dutch Bros. And they. Are. Amazing! My wife doesn't drink coffee, but even she was hooked on Dutch Bros. by the time we left.

We have tentative plans to visit California next month, and possibly Tennessee in July because, hey, when you become a "big deal" there's no stopping you!