Lasagna Anyone...

Well, the Hazel Moon has come and gone...but the Magic continues. This is Lisa, Lisa Minneti, coauthor with my sister, Lori, of Hazel Moon. I'm beginning to suspect that the Magic of all these remarkable coincidences connected to the book is part of a broader phenomenon that brings Magic into our lives all the time if only we believe in it. BTW, the picture above of the fairy dust reminded me of the scene in Hazel Moon when November is in her apartment and it is littered with all kinds of strange things including jars filled with specimens and magic rocks!

So, I'm at work last week, at Peabody's Interiors, something happened that's never happened before when this gentleman walks in carrying a pan of homemade lasagna...enough for everyone in the office. His company sold high-end 5-figure dining room tables and he was hoping we would recommend his table to our clients. This person knew something about establishing good relations through Giving something of himself to others...just good business!

When he left, I sat at my desk realizing once again that this guy coming in was connected to several scenes in Hazel Moon! First the man was well-healed, and in that way, he was like Cash Reynolds. He was also charming and bold, like Cash. But the lasagna, when November picked up Angela at her house, she'd been all dressed up to go to the Bunnymen concert when she stopped to sample her mother's three kinds of lasagna, and ended up slopping sauce all over her. See below the lasagna scene from Chapter 2

Again, this seems to be another example of the principle of the Law of Attraction...what we care about, what we focus on, what we believe in...those are the things we will draw into our lives...Magic!

Excerpt from Chapter 2

Knowing he'd just been bested in their verbal jousting match, Mr. Gonzales retaliated with, "I see, you honked me over so you could stay in your car-got it. I used to feel that way about my garage-never wanted to leave. Are you hungry? You are just too scrawny. Rosa made lasagna. A Calabrese one with three kinds of sausage, a Napolitano version just like her mother made in the old country with spinach and cream, and she created, I suppose for me, a south-of-the-border variation beautifully garnished with colorful peppers, cilantro, tomatoes, and onions."

The offer of dinner softened her into finally returning his gaze. Seeing his smooth tan face, which could have passed for twenty or fifty, she took in a deep breath and thought, we do have something in common.

She could tell from his tone that he wasn't looking forward to dinner either. The combination of the three versions created such a stench that it made November want to gag. Grimacing wreaked havoc on her glam makeup, causing smudging and caking. Mr. Gonzales knew enough to get the subject off of food.

"So, what do you think of my front yard this year," he asked while standing proudly next to his meticulously pruned bushes featuring spiral scrolls resembling the iron works from a Gothic cathedral.

"I liked it last year...when you had that tall bush towers...for some reason I imagined a little baby living in there."

Growing impatient, November fisted her hand to blast the horn again, again to get Angela's attention. Mr. Gonzales grabbed her wrist. She pulled free and stared him down-unusual for her. Was it desperation or unabashed honesty she saw? Their moment of mutual introspection passed quickly.

"Do you realize I've known you for seven years now? When you worked at the restaurant you always left room in my coffee for cream. I never had to remind you."

His remark took her back to those diner days when Mr. Gonzales would come in, never asked for a warm-up, and always left at least a dollar as a tip. It was apparent that he cared about her.

"Please listen to me, November. I know what's real and what's not. I was a lot like you at your age. I would take on all comers. As a boxer I was known as the Demon Slayer and I was undefeated because I had a single mission in life."

Just then, something they couldn't make out few over their heads heading straight for the garage, interrupting his train of thought.

"My alternate mission in life was to find and destroy actual demons. Over many sunrises and sunsets I searched and fought...and I have the battle scars to...."

"November Rainer Savitchian," Rosa sang out in her piercing operatic voice, "Angela will be ready in a shake!"

After delivering the announcement she quickly retreated behind the screen door. Turning, Mr. Gonzales' smile returned as he looked Rosa's way.

"Mr. G, I hope you invited that skinny young lady to dinner."

Then, Rosa directed her drill-sergeant's voice up the stairs.

"Angela, get yourself down here, girl!"

Mr. G could tell the girls weren't going to stay for supper and he had some things to say to November before they left.

"Look, tonight, at the festival, you two stay close to each other. Be careful of strangers and don't leave Angela's side for a minute. Do that and you should be all right. But if things get out of hand, my girl's gift should be enough to protect both of you. If you find yourselves in a tight spot, trust your gut."

November wasn't quite sure just what Mr. Gonzales was referring to, but she listened. Then, a burden began to weigh him down well beyond his mere 130 pounds.

"I haven't thought about them...the demons, in ages."

A worried look overtook him. He shook his head from side to side.

"I'm going back to the garage to make myself useful. Goodbye November," he said, walking strong and straight, his fingers curled inward, resigned to whatever destiny the night might bring.

ANGELA EMERGED FROM the front door and planted herself on the porch, posing like Pat Benatar holding a microphone. November instinctively responded by pumping up the volume on her radio. Lasagna was the last thing on their minds.

"Let's go girl, it's getting late and we don't want to miss anything!"

Angel was definitely a hottie. Her long, naturally wavy hair always set to impress, her abundant curves always on display in her skin-tight jeans, the hands-down favorite of the Cherry Apple Mall gawker club, but she just didn't have it going on tonight.

November gasped. For some unfathomable reason Angela had a pair of her mother's pants on, polyester gabardine First Editions from J.C. Penny. Approaching the Camaro, November wasn't about to let Angela get in.

"Look, we work at MGR, we have an image to maintain. You just can't wear those pants to the festival. Go back inside and put on your work outfit from today."

Angela squirmed.

"Well...I would, but I can't...I was sampling the lasagna and spilled."