The Good Girl’s Guide to Adventure

LOST

My friend and I jokingly describe each other as “Born to be Mild.” She rides motorcycles. And I? Well, I don’t do much of anything too “out there,” but I’m game for just about anything–just about.

I have a long list of books I hope to write, but I’ve reserved the title of this blog for a future book, titled, of course, The Good Girl’s Guide to Adventure.

I know the real rebels laugh at me. I’m not quite a Thelma or a Louis, but I’d make a pretty good Lucy or Ethel. Go ahead, you “normal” people. Laugh or roll your eyes, but you might consider loosening up a little bit. I’m not running with Hell’s Angels. But even the Wild Hogs yearn for adventure.

Me too! Me too!  As long as I’m home by eight.

Seriously though, I’ve had my fair share of “adventure,” mild though it may be. Check it out:

  • I’ve met and mingled with oodles of celebrities and gawked with the best of you. I haven’t been arrested once for stalking, but I’m not dead yet.
  • You know those crime-drama shows where the cops come to a screeching stop, block the get-away car with their own vehicles, pull their guns, and order the perpetrators to spread ’em to be frisked? Intense, right? Well, baby, I’ve been in the get away car–only I wasn’t trying to get away. I was simply leaving a pizza joint and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s what happens when you get caught in the middle of a drug sting and are pegged as the pick up. Not!
  • And then there was the time I wandered down to a riverside festival  in Memphis to try out my new camera. Memphis. Expensive camera. Alone. The dark. A riverside festival. Mix all these ingredients, and you should have disaster, but I walked away smiles and grins from felons. I was too stupid to know that I was asking members of the Outlaws to pose. At least they were nice about it. And they didn’t kill me.
  • I like bikers! My first real motorcycle ride was on the back of an Indian motorcycle that belonged to a biker dude I met when I spent part of a summer in Colorado. Okay, okay. Maybe the guy wasn’t in a biker gang. Maybe it was more like a club, kind of like a chess club with leather jackets and Bibles. But I really did think I was going to die as I clung to the back of a total stranger going 70 mph on the open road.
  • Then there was the time I ran away with a cowboy. Well, maybe I didn’t really run away, but I jumped in his Chevy van and took off. Never saw him before in my life. Okay, maybe we didn’t run away. Maybe I exaggerated a bit. Maybe we just drove to the Jiffy Burger. Thank goodness for me (or my mama would’ve killed me), he turned out to be the perfect gentleman and became a good friend. At least I didn’t lie about the cowboy part. He really was a bull rider from Oklahoma.
  • And finally, there was the night I was chased by ax murders in the middle of a cow pasture in rural Rutherford County. No embellishment of the facts. Every bit is true, but I’ll save that story for another time.

The point is I think I have something inside of me that most people don’t have. It’s a spark or a sparkle. It’s that thing kids have right before they realize they’re too old to play make believe. It’s a sense of adventure.

I’ve got it! And because I’ve got it, I think my imagination can craft stories that young people want to hear. My kids at school listen. They always want me to tell one more

I just wish I could convince editors and agents that I’ve got that “thing” they’re looking for. Why is it the editors and agents have to be the picky ones?

I wish I could walk into a conference and say, “Hey, here I am, everything you’ve ever been looking for. You better not pass me by. Somewhere in this publishing world, the right agent and editor are going to find me. You’ll be sorry you were afraid to take a chance.”

But it doesn’t work like that. Right, fellow writers?

We go bonkers practicing our elevator pitches. We fight to sit by our favorite agent or editor at the conference luncheons. We write query letters that are highly likely to hear the clunk of a virtual trash can.

Oh, it’s a hard life, the life of a wannabe writer.

But, when all is said and done, I’m just going to pray and allow God to orchestrate his will. Paths cross for a reason–divine appointments, they’re called. What is supposed to be will be.

I can honestly say I like who I am. If anything, I’m unpredictable. And living inside my own head is a rollercoaster ride with its ups and downs.

I guess I’ll have to wait to see how the story ends.

TODAY’S CHALLENGE
Let’s keep it G-rated. Help me write my Good Girl’s Guide to Adventure. What’s the first rule you would add?

WORDS OF WISDOM
“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” ~  Helen Keller

MUSIC NOTES
Come on get ready for the ride of your life / Gonna leave long-faced religion in a cloud of dust behind / And discover all the new horizons just waiting to be explored / This what we were created for ~ Steven Curtis Chapman, “The Great Adventure”

LOOK AND SEE CYBER SERENDIPITEE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijqnsRqSo2k

FINAL THOUGHT

Quote Series ChalkboardPOOHSPIRIT

Ten reasons to ask your friends to visit my blog

It’s been a long, difficult summer. I had glorious plans of sneaking off to a cabin to complete my WIP, but life had other plans for me. GRADUATE SCHOOL. I have my Master’s, but in order to maintain my job as an adjunct instructor for a community college, I needed to add more graduate hours in English to my resume. So off to school I went. I push the cliche’ here, but I do believe things happen for a reason. There was a reason why I had to drive to the Boro every day this summer and leave for campus around 8 a.m. and sometimes return home around 8 p.m. and THEN do homework. I needed to cross paths with some of the people in my classes. They added additional brush strokes to the picture of life I’m painting.

But back to the blog. There are CERTAIN types of people who might just benefit from the ramblings of a psycho writer chick. Here we go. Do you know any of these people?

1. People who need to make a connection…
I am probably the most emotionally vulnerable person in the world. But I know there are other people like me out there. Perhaps your friend is like me too. I say things in my blog that I can’t say to anyone else, and because I use deeply constructed metaphors, most people don’t really get what I’m talking about. But sometimes various words were meant to be heard by just the right people. Perhaps your friend is that person. Perhaps not. But there is always perhaps.

2. People who don’t like being baited into argumentative situations…
What I write is definitely differently. I purposely stay away from topics that tear people apart. I avoid politics, and I avoid religion. I believe God loves us with a love so deep we cannot fathom, but only you can develop that personal relationship. God calls YOU to him. He doesn’t tell me whom to condemn. If I could wrap each of my readers in a great big hug and tell each one, “Hey, you’re loved,” I would do so. Seriously. That empty feeling of having no one is unbearable, but we don’t have to feel alone.

3. People who are incredibly geeky, silly but are too shy to admit it in person…
Hey, I’m the poster child for adult dork. I still play make believe and wonder “what if.” I have an unquenchable sense of adventure that I really have to rein in because I know most people simply would not understand. I do NOT take myself too seriously. I spent my summer (when not studying) questing for Steven Tyler. I say questing because I do not want to be arrested for stalking. I coerced my students into make a Video Plea for me, that he would allow me to meet him at his concert. I posted comments on every Atlanta radio station FB, pleading for someone to help me make the connection. I contacted his booking agent and tried to book him–then found out that my VISA card would be declined. I could not pay the $100,000 fee. Sigh. Oh well. No luck for me. But the fun was in the adventure.

4. People who are afraid of EVERYTHING…
I am fearless on some days. On other days I’m afraid of everything. Most of all, I’m afraid of lies. The worst thing for me is dishonesty. Everybody fails to live up to expectations. Those faults are forgiveable, but premediated, intentionally hurtful lying is crushing. I fear being suckered in. But don’t we all? But isn’t it silly to not to take a chance for the fear of rejection? Rejection stings for a little while. Regret may last forever. I’m also afraid of frogs. They are Satanic little creatures that scare the dickens out of me. I am afraid of trains. I panic at every railroad crossing. I am afraid of flying, but I am going to Ireland. I have made peace with my maker, and should the plane go down, well, I am ready to go. I also fear bugs with a lot of legs. I fear scorpions, unless they play guitars. And I fear missing out on my most important dreams. It’s easier to accept yourself as being “normally unnormal” when you realize your fears aren’t any weirder as anyone else’s.

5. People who make the most out of unfortunate situations by adding a little quirkiness…
What is so wrong with being quirky? I work with teenagers because quirkiness is a natural part of their character. Adults don’t understand. That’s why I feel I fit right in with adolescents. We think alike. But quirky is fun. Quirky people take of their shoes and walk in the rain during a thunderstorm because they don’t want to get their shoes wet. Quirky people carry a can of Febreeze around a stinky classroom as if were an Olympic torch. If one must deal with with moldy, mildew carpet, one can surely find a way to make the experience “interesting.”

6. People who can’t say how they really feel so they let music do their talking…
I don’t open up to people. But I have an advantage. I’m an English major! I understand metaphors–conceptual metaphors, now, thank you MTSU summer of stylistics. I can say what I want through the lyrics of a song, mine or someone else’s. So can you. So can your friend.

7. People who believe their animals talk back to them…
Sometimes my best conversations aren’t with humans. I mean, who else do you know who will lick your face after a bad day of school? Who else will show you that you are needed by pawing at your backdoor, demanding to be let in, refusing to eat his meal, until you arrange it just right in the bowl?  It’s nice to be needed. Our four-legged friends let us know we’re needed. I could write a novel based on the feline and canine characters in my neighborhood. But I think that’s been done before, i.e. “twilight barking” in One Hundred and One Dalmations.

8. People who do stupid things…
Okay. Here’s one of the best reasons for your friend to read my blog. We all do stupid things. But I do a whole lot more stupider things than normal people. I can make ALL PEOPLE feel good about themselves if they compare their antics to mine. Allow me a few examples of proof. I hotglued my lips together while hanging posters in my classroom. (Long story.) I sprained my ankle while talking on the phone one night on a warm summer’s evening. I thought I would go for a walk and chit chat. I missed the pavement and ended up in the ditch with my leg in the culvert. I had to claw my way out. I dress inappropriately. Only I could wear a button-up shirt inside out to school. Feel better?  I bet your “challenged” friend will too after reading my blog.

9. People who believe in serendipity…
I believe we sometimes stumble on the most important things in our life. Sometimes we’re too stubborn, jaded, or blind to see the obviousl. Sometimes we have to run face first into the wall of fortunate discovery. Simply put, I believe in hope. Usually, we can’t make situations work out the way we plan them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t work out.

10. People who need encouragement…
Do you know friends who feel as if they’ve done too much damage in their lives for anything good to happen? Do you know fpeople who feel no matter what they so, they’ll mess up anything good that happens in their lives? I may be the geekiest, quirkiest, clumsiest, goofiest, awkardest, shyest, least confident person on this planet, but if I can do anything right, perhaps I can convince your friend that hope, love, and happiness are out there, waiting.

As I try to jump back into writing, I would appreciate your vote….I mean your endorsement. Please encourage someone who needs a friend to read my blog. I appreciate every reader, and I appreciate your support.

Midnight in your imagination

Admit it. Don’t you wish you could escape reality, just for a moment?

I have. This weekend I faced returning to school, cleaning out my parents’ house, reorganizing my house, and making some other important decisions.

I felt as if my brain were spinning like a cage on one of the old Zipper rides at the carnival.

So I escaped…vicariously, of course, through a romantic comedy, my all-time favorite genre of movies.

I blame my movie adventure on one of my newspaper editors. We were planning the February issue of The Edge and found ourselves making a list of our top romantic movies. We both agreed on Leap Year, and I was determined to watch it this past weekend.

The luck of the Irish was not shining on me though. I couldn’t find Leap Year on any of my movie channels. But I serendipitously discovered another movie called Midnight in Paris that could possibly rank second in my all-time favorite movie list, falling close behind my top choice Serendipity, of course, and giving Leap Year a tight battle for the number two slot.

Midnight in Paris may be the most romantic movie I’ve ever seen. It’s as if someone tore a page out of my journal, tweaked a few details, and turned my thoughts into a motion picture.

Owen Wilson takes the lead role of Gil, a hopeless romantic writer, who pays the bills by turning out lucrative Hollywood screen plays. But he wants to write a novel. He’s written a manuscript, but he has shown it to no one, primarily because his finance Inez (Rachel McAdams) belittles him and doesn’t support his dream.

He wants to move to Paris and walk in the rain and reminisce about the past. Inez finds herself attracted to a pompous know-it-all pseudo expert in everything from wine tasting to art. As Gil grows closer to his dream city, he moves further away from Inez. Their ideas of romance don’t mesh. His imagination fuels his passion. She can’t see beyond dollar signs and prestige.

When Gil takes a midnight walk, his life changes forever. A strange car pulls up beside him, and the driver offers him a ride. He finds himself transported magically back to the Golden Age of the 1920s, where he meets a host of creative artists who re-ignite his own passion—F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Picasso, Dali, Gertrude Stein, Cole Porter, to name a few.

Gil must decide whether to live in the past, to stick with the status quo, or to change his present.

Admit it. If you had the chance, wouldn’t it be great to step back in time to meet the artists who fuel your passion for literature, music, or art? Wouldn’t it be great if that one moment breathed new life into your dreams?

I actually had the chance to do that once, well, kind of. I took a creative nonfiction class for my master’s degree in journalism education through the University of Missouri, and my professor asked us to incorporate all five of our senses as we wrote a piece about a specific place. Back then I hadn’t started my novel, and I was still doing quite a few celebrity interviews. My favorite band was the Eagles, and my chance of interviewing one of the original members was approximately one in a million. But what if I did interview one of them? Where would we meet? What would I say?

I threw caution to the wind and imagined myself in The Troubadour on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood. Why? Because that’s where members of the Eagles band used to hang out when they first got their start in the music business.

I didn’t have the money to fly to California, and I certainly couldn’t go back in time. But that’s what I what I wanted to write about, and somehow I needed to get there. I researched the place and its surroundings, including the Italian restaurant next door, and somehow I found myself sitting next to Glenn Frey and Don Henley in The Troubadour, watching Steve Martin on stage, and drooling over the aroma of pasta dishes wafting in from next door.

It was one the best experiences in my life that never really happened, and I remember every little detail, despite none of them being true. That’s why I find it so ironic that a few years later Eagle guitarist Joe Walsh did call me, and we did have a real one-on-one conversation. This little incident just reaffirms my belief that ANYTHING can happen. Dreams do come true.

So if you had a chance to step back in time to meet someone who inspired you? Who would you meet? Where would you go? To what era would you travel?

I’ve occasionally written about creative escapes in my blogs. I’ve spent quite a few weekends in Franklin, perusing the Henpeck Market and eating at McCreary’s. As often as I can, I go to Memphis and hang out in Handy Park and the Memphis Music store.

But when I can’t travel very far away, I find myself in one of the quaint railroad towns like Normandy, Wartrace, or Bell Buckle—Bell Buckle, especially. There’s just something magical about that little town.

I have several readers from all across the nation. If you ever find yourself traveling down Interstate 24 toward Chattanooga, Tennessee, you MUST take a short detour to Bell Buckle. I’ve never had the pleasure of staying in one of the several bed and breakfast homes, but, hey, what a GREAT place for a writer’s retreat. Someone needs to organize it. It might just have to be me.

There’s one particular antique store in Bell Buckle that takes me back to the 30s and 40s every time I walk in. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. I also like visiting the ice cream shop.

Now that I’m committed to a diet, I probably won’t see another ice cream soda until this spring, but every time I step foot in this parlor I feel as though I’m ready to order a strawberry phosphate or an ice cream soda with Emily and George from Our Town.

To me, Bell Buckle is enchanted. Of course, I’m a tourist, not a local. But you can find me there almost every week, strolling through the town, visiting the boutiques, or simply going for a ride through the country side. It is my escape.

So far I haven’t “met” any of my favorite writers in Bell Buckle although I wouldn’t be surprised in Edgar Allan Poe were to show up. I imagine he and I might speculate about the Victorian houses that appear to be haunted and the graveyard that sits in the middle of town.

Do you need an escape as badly as I do? Where would you go? Who would you meet? Why? When? Give me all the five w’s and throw in the h.

I really want to know.

If only I were a ninja

There’s just something about a ninja.

Wouldn’t it be cool to do backflips off buildings, to take down your enemy with a kick, to wear the cool ninja costume? I think I’d like to be a ninja.

Did you happen to catch the season premiere of Psych tonight? I couldn’t wait, and I must say I was not disappointed, especially with the show taking on a ninja theme tonight. Ever since writing The Edge, I’ve had a tiny little fascination with ninjas. Blame on the parkour research, I suppose. Oh, if I could only move that way. If you didn’t see the show, I recommend you check it out online. It’s worth the effort.

Apparently, the main character, Shawn, the somewhat psycho pseudo psych, has his own fascination with ninjas, stemming , in part, from his father’s refusal to let him take karate as a little kid. Shawn attempts to take on a real ninja, and the results are ridiculous. (The main character in The Edge, TJ, and his best friend DeAndre remind me a little of Shawn and Gus, especially when they accidentally kill a local legend, or so they think.)

Do you ever have situations like that? I’m talking about situations in which you strap on your best ultra cool and confident demeanor and then you go forth in denial and take on a challenge that you know good and well is ten times bigger than you are. I’ve been there and done that about a million times. It never fails. I always walk away feeling like a complete idiot. Let me give you a few examples.

Shortly after we were first married, Kenny and I were moving to a different apartment, and we needed empty boxes. One night after eating dinner at a pizza restaurant, I told Kenny to go raid the restaurant’s garbage bin to pick up some empty boxes I saw the workers throw out. We were broke, and I was shameless. Anyway, who would care if we took some boxes that were being thrown out?  Kenny immediately said no, but I insisted. He gave in. So I sent him for the boxes while I stayed in the car. Little did I know, but we found ourselves right in the middle of an undercover drug sting. Yes, apparently the cops were doing surveillance and thought WE were criminals there to pick up the stashed drugs. Do you know what it feels like to be frisked? I don’t, but Kenny does. I didn’t believe they were real cops, so I refused. Too much TV I guess. But the officers’ shiny badges turned out to be real. I was fortunate that I wasn’t handcuffed and taken downtown.

Then there was a time when I had to deliver important information to a good friend of mine. I’m a little bit impulsive; I don’t like to wait. I knew she was directing a play in town, but I thought I could reach her backstage in between scenes. Get in. Get out. Get the job done.  The play was held in a real upstairs court room to make it seem authentic. So what did I do? I ran inside the building, punched the button and climbed aboard an elevator full of people. Only when we were going up did I realize I was the only one NOT in costume. All the people around me were in character, preparing to make their entrance into the courtroom as they stepped out of the elevator.  All eyes in the audience—and the spotlight—would be fixed upon them. How was I to know I had stepped into a scene from the play? The actors were panicking. I was panicking. It was one of the most humiliating moments in my life.

Finally, I guess the reason why I like to write is because I am a hopeless romantic who dreams of adventure. But dreams are easier to manipulate than reality. Haven’t you ever wanted to be an undercover detective? To be a crime fighter? To be a hero? To be privy to top secret information? To be a spy? Oh yeah, that’s my kind of life. During our more adventurous days, Kenny and I owned our own crime-fighting vehicle, an old maroon and silver Dodge Ram Charger, the only Dodge vehicle that has ever let me down. (I do like a Dodge.) We used to drive the truck all around looking for trouble, but we never really expected to find it.

One night, however, we accidentally ran upon what appeared to be a drug deal going down, and the culprits saw us. And they knew that we knew that they knew we saw them. So we took off in the old Ram Charger with the “drug lords” chasing us through town. We made a turn, and they made a turn. On and on and on. We finally made our getaway and thought we had lost them. And then the truck broke down. The Ram’s shifting forks had a nasty habit of going out, and the only way to fix them was to crawl under the truck and to do a quick repair, which Kenny did in time to save us. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first time the old Ram Charger broke down. There are landmarks all over the country where we could have found ourselves in serious trouble. One time the right front tire rolled right off with no warning. How often does that happen?

Life is definitely an adventure. There will be times when the load we have to bear is almost insurmountable. Then there are other times when our obstacles are mere bumps in the road. I say we should take every moment we can to laugh. There will be plenty other times to cry. Alan Alda once said, “When people are laughing, they’re generally not killing each other.” I tend to agree.

How about sharing your close calls and “ninja experiences”? We really want to know.

I’m NOT saying you should stalk, but….

So, not to ruin your last days of summer, I just thought I’d break it to you gently. School starts in just a few weeks.  If you’re like me, you’ve got mixed emotions. I dread getting up early and going to bed early. I fear not being able to keep up with the new schedule. I tremble at the thought of having to work. Pushing aside those feelings, I know from personal experience that life is what you make it. A person can choose to be miserable—or not.  It’s all about attitude.

I care a lot about my journalism students and the way they handle their assignments. I’ve already had a few of them text me this summer about leads they have for future stories. Man, that excites me! The last thing an editor or adviser wants to hear is “I can’t think of anything to write.” I look at this way. When I’m armed with a pen and a reporter’s notepad, I have a license to slip in a new world with every assignment. And I’ve gotten to do some pretty fun things, especially when I was writing for several Christian music magazines. I’ve seen what it looks like from inside a mosh pit. I’ve attended posh *sniff, sniff* parties to celebrate celebrity achievements. I’ve eaten from the spread reserved for the media backstage at awards shows. I’ve had FUN on assignment.

If you like to write and you like adventure, then I’m sure that at least once you have experience the adrenaline rush that comes with being on assignment.

When I’m on assignment, I like going into stealth mode.  Again, there really is a certain rush that comes with it. Once I was in a HUGE crowd in downtown Nashville, and I needed to get to the stage to get photos. I’m 5”. I am not intimidating. I am also not a quitter. I HAD to get to the stage. I saw a Coca Cola man delivering his wares, and I fell right in step with him. He took me right up to the stage. Don’t ask me why a Coca Cola man would be pushing a cart in the middle of thousands. Call it serendipity. Well, you could call it a terrorist attempt. Hmmm. Back then the thought never crossed my mind.  Fortunately, I believe the man was just delivering Coke. The soda. The real thing.

On another occasion, I needed an interview with a California band. I couldn’t get through via the publicist, the manager, the A&R people. So I played private investigator. I tracked down the drummer’s MOTHER and sent her a box of Goo Goo candy bars from Tennessee. She set up the interview for me. How cool is that?

So you’re going back to school, back to all those nouns and verbs and formulas and theorems and historical facts and biological details and definitions and….Am I depressing  you? I’ll stop now. The point is I urge you to make whatever you are doing an adventure.

Before I taught high school, I taught a couple of English classes at MTSU. Yeah, I know that was a long time ago. I wanted my students to feel the spirit of adventure that comes with writing. Thus, I asked them to people watch and write a detailed descriptive paper. Wouldn’t that be fun? Wouldn’t you like to go to the mall and just sit and watch? Well, my student took the assignment a little too far, and for a week he STALKED a girl he secretly admired. I am very fortunate to say neither of us was arrested. But don’t you know he had a good time until I told him that he could go to jail! (I am not, I repeat, NOT encouraging stalking.)

I’m simply saying you can choose to be miserable—or not. Check your attitude. Everything you do is an assignment—maybe some of these mundane assignments are even divine appointments from God.

How will you handle it?

What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done to complete an assignment for school, newspaper or otherwise? Tell us about it.

We’re living on the edge

Because I teach journalism and suffer the headaches of deadlines, possessed computers, staff death threats and other perilous mishaps, people often tell me that I’m either blessed or insane. I say a little of both. Honestly, I just like a life of adventure. Life would be boring if I didn’t live it on “the Edge.” Honestly, if it weren’t for the amazing students I’ve had both on my journalism staffs and in my English classes, I would have never had the courage to write my first novel, The Edge. Although the book is entirely FICTION, I won’t deny that my former students will recognize some of the details. They may even see some of themselves in one more or more of the characters. What can I say? These people have a wonderful way of rubbing off on a person.

The Edge is a story about truth and consequences. It’s a story about finding one’s purpose in life. The main characters are just your typical high school journalists, quirky, creative and a little bit crazy, definitely a little bit crazy.

TJ Westbrook is a skilled traceur, who relies on his parkour skills to help him escape the consequences of his edgy journalistic style. When TJ isn’t running from all sixty-eight members of the football team, he’s likely either stalking a celebrity or interviewing a superhero. Because he’s ALWAYS on the lookout for the “perfect” story, he’s willing to take the necessary risks. 

Fortunately, TJ can rely on the help of his cute, yet not so coordinated, best friend, Megan Crosslin. Megan’s number one mission is looking out for TJ. A hopeless romantic, she would like nothing better than to move up in the relationship ranks from best friend to girlfriend, specifically TJ’s girlfriend. But when a good-looking senior catches her eye at the wrong place at the wrong time, she begins to question her future with TJ. She’s tired of waiting on Mr. Right and is willing to settle for Mr. Right Now.

During a serendipitous turn of events, TJ and Megan stumble upon THE story that has the potential to change the lives of everyone at Edgewood High School, especially their own. TJ learns that being a guardian of the truth requires more than an adventurous spirit, and Megan learns people can’t go back once they cross a certain line. In other words, she learns you have to be careful when you’re standing on the edge.

If you’re an adventurous spirit or a hopeless romantic, I’d like to hear more about your adventures. What lessons have you learned serendipitously?

Special note: Many thanks to the fabulous freerunner Tcup for permission to use his images on my blog!  Also, much love to bluxhart for his graphics help in the wee hours.