Hazel Moon Fillmore Magic...

Well, I just got back from our road trip to the Fillmore in Detroit, Michigan, to see the band featured in our book, Hazel Moon. It was a perfect, summery fall day when our road trip began at noon, Central Standard Time, but when we arrived in Detroit it was apparent that they were in the Eastern time zone. The show started at 7 PM, but the Hazel Moon Magic began well before the Bunnymen took the iconic Fillmore stage, which had previously been known as the State Theater, and before that The Palms, which I only mention because The Palms was also the name of a concert venue Lori and I frequented back in the '80s in the Milwaukee area.

Other than knowing who the band members were, before showing up we hadn't spoken with anyone about our book and our wish that the band consider supporting the marketing of our book, but almost immediately doors opened, those necessary Connections began flickering like Christmas tree lights, like Hazel Moon fairies dancing all around us. Outside the venue, right after getting our tickets, we ran into the band's tour manager and after sharing our hopes for the evening, we were put on a very limited meet-and-greet list for after the show.

That important step accomplished, we were able to go into the Fillmore, find our seats, be amazed at the historic grandeur of the venue's lush, ornate interior, and revel in every minute of the Bunnymen's concert. In another delightful connection to the book, the Bunnymen lyric quotes from Hazel Moon by the end of the concert had all been sung by the band! 

I have to admit, being on the road trip with my sister, Lori, being at the Bunnymen's concert, made us feel like we were 20 years old again!

After the show, which included two encores (see below for a book excerpt) we couldn't help but be stunned with the connection to our story, a key scene about the Bunnymen concert involved an encore, something they rarely, if ever do. When calm and quiet finally settled back into the Fillmore auditorium, we were led to the meet-and-greet area where Lori, in full bloom in her actress roll playing Lady Luna, eloquently explained what our book was about when asked by the tour manager.

We signed two copies of our book for the two original members of the band from those early days in the '80s, the setting for Hazel Moon, and the years during which my sister, Lori, and myself were being creatively inspired by taking in so many fabulous bands, including, Echo and the Bunnymen.

Time will tell, but the band has copies of our book and if they like it, and agree to support it, that would be fantastic, however, The River is Everywhere...the Moment was Memorable, the road trip full of exciting memories that we'll never forget...no matter what happens with our book!

Pic below, me at the Fillmore done as an artistic rendering.

Excerpt from Hazel Moon about the Echo and the Bunnymen encore from Chapter
12 Encore.

SUDDENLY A TREMENDOUS ROAR snapped Luna out of her Lyudmila spell. When Echo and the Bunnymen played the last song of their last set and vacated the stage, few, if anyone left. Instead, the audience began applauding, yelling, and chanting, hoping the band would come back for an encore.

Not about to give up, after a few minutes the audience rose to their feet and intensified their raucous outcries; adding taunts, whistles, screams, and banging together anything they could get their hands on to make enough noise to get the band's attention.

Whipped into a collective frenzy anyway during this Eve of the Hazel Moon, the rowdy crowd was not about to leave without seeing the Bunnymen back on stage one last time. The band, on the other hand, was making them sweat.

The decision whether or not to play an encore was usually made by Ian and although they typically avoided them, on certain special nights they played their fans' obsession with the band for all it was worth.

Twas a tricky maneuver, though—wait too long and the crowd will begin to disperse—don't wait long enough and they won't appreciate the encore. Wait just the right amount of time and the encore will take them to a place they've never been during a live performance—one they'll remember for the rest of their lives.

Ian had a sixth sense about just when to send the band back out there, and after fifteen long, drawn-out minutes, that's exactly what he did.

The exuberant explosion of sound brought Luna back to 1984 while also putting a look of hope back on November's despondent face, believing that the Eve of the Hazel Moon had come and gone without presenting her with any magical gifts—without keeping any important life-changing promises. But all that changed with the encore.

"AHHAH...they're back...the band's back!"

Anyone watching November would have thought her in the midst of the ultimate G-Spot orgasm! She was gasping for breath, her arms were wrapped around herself tightly, and she screamed while digging her long, sharp fingernails into her shoulder blades.

Thinking to herself, oh...the moon gods are good to me...the concert magic is not over!

The crowd was absolutely going wild. Looking left she saw a casserole of geeks and freaks, posers and desperadoes; all with their hands waving frantically in the air, many holding lit cigarette lighters in a ceremonial tribute to their adoration for the band and their acknowledgement that this Eve of the 

Hazel Moon was indeed a remarkable night for the ages.

November was afraid to exhale, worried what she was seeing would break up like a smoke ring if she didn't hold on tightly to the memorable moment. She'd followed the band enough to know that an encore was a privilege. The crowd also sensed the aroma of being honored.

Angela had the same untamed reaction, screaming with glee as November wrapped around her from behind, and like a powerful python slowly squeezed the very air out of her lungs.

"They are so back...ROCK ON!" Angela squealed, giving November the kind of naughty I'm-yours look you'd only find on a turn-of-the-century French pinup poster.

Dickey bolted between the two, first crouching, then rough-housing his arms around their waists before bellowing out a loud, "Yeah!"

Hazel Moon Bunnymen Magic...

My sister Lori and I were at a wedding yesterday, the day before we took off on a book promotion road trip to Detroit to see Echo and the Bunnymen in concert, hopefully meet the band, and interest them in backing our book! 

 

I couldn't help but feel like the Hazel Moon Magic stars were aligned for something unusual to happen to point to our trip tomorrow. Sure enough, IT DID!!

A good time was being had by all during the wedding reception as soon after the meal was served, a DJ began spinning songs to get the dancing started. Of course, Lori and I joined right in. Toward the end of the evening's festivities, though, I couldn't believe what I was hearing when the DJ began spinning an Echo and the Bunnymen song!!

Yes, the Bunnymen were a happening band back in the '80s, the time setting for our novel, Hazel Moon, but there was no way a DJ in 2015 was going to put one of their songs out there for a modern crowd at a wedding reception...there was No Way and yet, Way...IT HAPPENED!!!

But that wasn't the only Magical Connection...the sequel to Hazel Moon, Hawthorn Moon, opens at an Armenian festival where November has taken her boyfriend, Marcus, to experience some of her ethnic culture. Marcus is a DJ!!!!

 


 

Hazel Moon Money Magic...

Last night I stopped to see my editor to put the finishing touches on the manuscript for Hazel Moon! We decided to write the first chapter in the sequel, Hawthorn Moon, and add it to the end of Hazel Moon as a Sneak Peek! (See Below)

I also picked up four proof copies of the book to take on a promo trip to Detroit to see Echo and the Bunnymen  in concert, to meet the band, give them signed copies of the book, and hopefully get them interested in promoting Hazel Moon which features the band throughout the story.

Remember the book-signing dresses we got for $10 each marked down from $400 at Nordstrom's, considering what we wanted/needed them for, and our limited budgets, that $10 price seemed like a magical gift from the Hazel Moon gods. While working with my editor, one of his other authors came in and told us a story.

She was looking for a working laptop for her brother. Again, on a limited budget, she found one at a rummage sale and was able to talk the seller down to $10 for an older, but good laptop that gets online reliably and which was worth much much more. It just seemed like much more than a mere coincidence that two authors, sitting there talking to each other, both had important needs met for the exact same $10 price tag!!!

It would appear that Magic comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors, so keep a keen eye out for those Magical Connections that are happening in your life!

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/37042129-hazel-moon

Hawthorn Moon

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Seattle, May, 1991

I've never been in love,

Don't know what it is,

I only know when someone wants me...

Jane's Addiction

"SONNY LIKES THE SARMA," said a surprised Marcus as the midday spring sun haloed around his natural Afro in a crazy supernova sort of way.

The cap he normally wore was in his pocket...an afternoon thing when he liked his hair to have some freedom.

"Well, of course he does," I replied, "...we're pals, but it's more than that. We're close, like twins. Sonny ate the sarma cuz he knows that if he offered me some of his kibble, I'd try it...get what I mean?"

My words flowed out midst the wafting Mediterranean aromas of spicy boreg, a layered pastry often filled with cheese; eech, an Armenian bulgur salad; and lahmajoun, a kind of pizza and a popular street food made with ground lamb, parsley, and tomatoes.

"I haven't been to an authentic Armenian festival in way too long so this is a big deal for me, I buy some sarma and you won't even try them...they're just grape leaves stuffed with rice. Come on, I know you've got the chutzpah to choke at least one down."

"No...nope...I don't think so, November...I don't know what it is...I'm not feeling it and one thing I'm not is an ass-kissing hypocrite, but the rest of the fest really kicks! Look, girl, there must be a reason there aren't any Armenian restaurants...think about it, so it's not happening, just saying."

With his last argument, worthy of a Supreme Court chief justice delivering the final word on a controversial case, Marcus put on his charcoal newsboy cap, the style that had skulls with lemon moon eyes looking back at you, and smiled as he fed Sonny, sitting there drooling with anticipation, another one of his meat-filled sarma. After woofing down the last one, Sonny proceeded to lick clean Marcus' hands and his long, beautiful deejay digits.

LEERING AT HIM TOOK ME back to his loft, the one above St. Andrew's Grocery Store. Through my mind's memory eye I could clearly see the old, peeling dusty rose velvet wallpaper and the heavy rustic driftwood beams crisscrossing a ceiling with patches of plaster ready to fall to the floor.

It was the perfect pad to sit for hours and read Rilke poetry, such as the line, Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave, or listen to a vinyl recording of the great Jimi Hendrix belting out "Hey Joe," and all while drinking Merlot and chamomile tea at the same time.

His sparse makeshift kitchen contained not much more than a plug-in hot plate and microwave, but my head was swimming with images of boxes upon boxes of cheap macaroni and cheese. While remembering them I lost my taste for the Armenian delicacies I'd purchased.

WE WERE PRIVILEGED to be at the revival of the only Armenian picnic in the Seattle area. The last one took place over a decade ago.

Smiling at us were the ethnically charming Armenian ladies, many stout with dark hair and dark complected, who'd lovingly prepared the food, using recipes handed down from generation to generation, going back to their homeland in the Middle East.

As a result of the Armenian Holocaust in the early 1900s the Diaspora spread all over the world, with a group from a certain region in Armenia settling in Seattle.

One of the servers noticed that Marcus was turning up his nose at whatever sample she offered him, but she wouldn't give up. Her aged face had the same black-and-white photograph features I remembered from a picture that strangely disappeared when I was a girl.

With her classic Armenian gold hoop earrings dangling, it was a face that carried the struggle, pain, and pride of generations—influences that threatened to but didn't accomplish warping the shape of her heart which was constantly battling with itself. Despite the past I could tell her soul lived in the present joy of a garden of golden pas-tries, flaky, buttery, rich, and savory.

"You...you try this shakalama...you will like, believe me," she said, offering a piece out to Marcus with the reverence of a priest holding the Holy Eucharist. "It is the sweet taste of Armenia!"

Putting his open hand up as a barrier Marcus replied, "I know...Armenians can be sweet," as he paused to look affectionately in my direction, "thank you, but no, darling, not today."

After that happened I knew it was going to be a lost cause with Marcus and let him feed his food to Sonny, but somehow I sensed that the day was destined to unfold in some significant, life-changing way that I could have never imagined...something...something was going to happen that would shake our world.

UNABLE TO SHARE SOME OF my cherished ethnic culinary heritage with Marcus was taking me down, but before bottoming out some unusual, imported, and so-damned-honest sounds caught my attention. The festival parking lot came alive with ethnic music and this aspect of Armenian culture my Black boyfriend was interested in tasting.

"Hey...dear Novi...you've been holding out on me, these guys are really kickin' it. Don't just stand there!"

"But we don't go to this church?"

That didn't matter to Marcus who grabbed my hand, waved Sonny on to come along, and we joined the line of folk dancers holding hands and all performing in unison a series of repeating moves with their feet while slowly snaking around the dance area.

The repeating pulsing music became hypnotic, the crescendos exhilarating, the distinctive sound of the kanun gloriously evident, its strings rising above the other instruments, as Marcus and I broke into the human chain joining hands with members of the Kaprelian and the Andykian families, kicking when it was time to kick, swirling and laughing as we were caught up in the collective joy of the experience.

Sonny found a spot right by the band and seemed to be dancing in his own way, panting to the beat. The music was mesmerizing, the extended manic sounds, the fairytale dance steps, and there I was with Marcus, right in the heat of the meandering moment, part of an ancient celebration, a ritual featuring thumping hearts the joyous pomp and circumstance of unbridled, free-flowing movement.

Part of that joy was feeling accepted. I wasn't from their church, Marcus was Black, yet despite our differences we had all become one collective soul joined in harmony by the music and dancing. I could see Marcus dripping sweat on the unusually warm and humid spring day, but you don't notice minor discomforts like that when you've slipped into the Twilight Zone of an Armenian folk dance.

Just then a cooling breeze waved over us making us feel like the sky was dropping cool petals of lily white flowers on us...hmmm...heavenly.

Just then, while we were standing on the sidelines catching a rest, Marcus spoke up to break the spell I was under.

"You handle yourself well out there, but I thought Angela was the one who loved to dance, why isn't she here with us?"

"Believe me, she wanted to but duty called. She's working a promo.

AT THE LOCAL MALL Angela was with her mother selling fragrances.

"This place is awesome, the folks a little different than the LA crowd, but do you think teal nail polish will work here in Seattle to match the Eternity bottle?"

Angela Gonzales-Gondola was sporting a new sassy shag-do tinted in a pretty Mediterranean off-center red, projecting her most seductive fall-in-love-with-me smile as she captivated a passing couple wearing matching brown hoodies.

"Yep, my baby poopsy, that should work. See, I've got on my icy-green fishnets to match the bottle...ooh, I like this song...hippity hoppity, right?" Rosa asked as she began to bust out in some not-bad street moves, show-girling it in front of their New Frontier fragrance kiosk.

"Mom...the song is, "Rapper's Delight," by the Sugarhill Gang, and lyrics go, I said a hip hop, hippie to the hippie... There's more, Ma, but will you please at least get the first part right, and the name of the rapper from the band is Master Gee," Angela clarified.

Glaring at Rosa were several pairs of eyes from their competitors trying their best to push their lines of perfumes, but Angela and Rosa seemed to attract all the fragrance-buying customers that day, and most days, frustrating the other sellers to no end.

"That's right, the name of the fragrance is Master D," Angela replied, answering the final question before closing the deal for the couple who'd been presented with a series of small samples sprayed on business cards, sniffing a jar of strong coffee beans to clear the nose of the previous scent before trying the next.

"Yeah, that's the one. I like the subtle but strong earth tones...yep, wrap it up and you've been a big help describing all the differences between the samples," the guy from the couple said.

Yes, Angela was good at what she did, she knew her fragrances, but the real dance taking place between her and her customers was about raw, sexual chemistry and Angela had it going on in that department. She made the sale to a couple, but it was the guy who first made the move in Angela's direction, to the consternation of his date as the sales soiree unfolded.

"Game on, Mom...score two more for me...ooooh, Angela is good, now isn't she!"

They got paid just for being there at the mall and talking up their Calvin Klein line of fragrances. They earned the posh gig of being paid to go on the road merely promoting the company's fragrances because they were the most successful sales team by far in their district. Beyond that, they had fun competing to see who would end up closing the most customers when the mesmerized person, male or female didn't seem to make a difference, opened their wallet to buy something they were pitching.

Angela's bold boast triggered Rosa's competitive instincts and she didn't have to take a backseat to anyone. Rosa had been a dancer all her life, her prime cut shapely legs and rounded calves constantly turning heads. Her dancer's feet were always wrapped in sexy open strap sandals, shoes, and boots, not so much for the open-toe look but because they sweat so much. Adding to her visual impact is a three-inch stunning skunk streak down the center of her long luxurious hair.

"Watch this, half-pint," challenged Rosa, eyeing up a fifty-something handsome UPS guy in his brown uniform.

Her pitch usually got the job done. It always began with a huge, broad, welcoming smile boasting lots of teeth to go along with pumping up her shoulders a couple of times like she would do serving a pan of homemade lasagna. But that was just the opening seductive salvo. The UPS driver was about to slip into her web.

"Tell me something about your honey. Do you think she'd like a sensual scent or something fun and spirited on you?"

Before he had a chance to answer, Rosa would press the assault after noticing he had a wedding ring on.

"I see you're married. What is your wife's name?"

"Kelly," UPS Guy answered while raising his ring finger to show Rosa.

"Try this, new from Calvin Klein, Eternity for men, but really this fragrance was made for women, for wives, like your Kelly, because it symbolizes how you felt when you fell in love with her...and your eternal love for each other," Rosa tactfully insisted after setting the romantic stage as she proceeded to spray a sample on him.

This was the risky reverse seduction phase of the sell. When the right fragrance mixed the man's natural scent and the potent pheromones released could be intoxicating, sending Rosa and Angela into a swirl of erotic intensity. The girls would often have to wait a minute for the butterflies to settle before they could continue the pitch.

That's what happened with the UPS driver as he noticed Rosa swoon after inhaling his enhanced manly scent. The poor guy was outgunned, though, and smiled a look of surrender as Rosa proceeded to close him, all while Angela, who knew exactly what was happening, smirked wistfully in Rosa's direction before engaging in her new habit, swirling her wedding ring round and round when she was in the midst of any intense emotion.

Although Angela and Rosa spiced up their promo days with a little good-natured competition, it was obvious to anyone who knew them or saw them together that they loved each other. Score: Angela 2, Rosa 1, but the ladies called it a draw.

"Alright girl...who's rockin' Seattle now?

After a high five they began busting out Salt-N-Pepa moves right in the middle of the mall while singing the lyrics to, "Ooh Baby Baby," both of them positioning their hands up to their mouths as if they were holding microphones.

BACK AT THE ARMENIAN Festival, there was a lull in the action as the band was on a break, so Marcus pulled out his harmonica and was serenading November with the song, "Dixie," his style soft and slow...right from the heart.

I grabbed his cap while he was playing and put it on laughing, "This is mine for the rest of the day since I've got to go to some poser lame photo shoot you got me into...rockin' out with Marcus Duprees!"

I pulled it over my way wavy long hair that on this day was coppery brown shaped with three thin braids...this day that would unfold to be a one to remember.

"Hey, that's exactly why they wanted you—November Rainer Savitchian can ROCK OUT. These guys trust me to steer just the right talent to them. The gig is at the Den Zen End bowling alley and the guy's name is Guter...he's way cool. I mean, him and I go way back, he digs your incense, and he wants someone real, earthy, and different for the video...and...he's paying you some good cash. Gutter Man is a character. He drinks like a fish and owns the Singing Telegram Modeling Agency...some guy...know what I mean."

"Are you kidding me...what is all that supposed to mean? I just know I'm not going to like some guy who sings and drinks. I do like his name, though...different, for sure, and I'm wondering what his last name could possibly be. You're right about the incense though, he is a loyal Tomorrow's Rainbow customer. I mail him a lot of it every month. But, how come you don't know the name of the band the video is for? Angela, my very best gal pal, is in town. She's staying at the OK Motel where we're going to party to-night if you want to join us."

With that I jumped on the back of Marcus' shiny blue Buell roadster, Sonny leaped into the Robin side-car, and I instinctively began stroking both his and Sonny's hair...just something I like to do...just saying. Then, Marcus shot an arrow right through my wounded heart with words that slapped my misty Seattle love world silly.

"I'm dropping you off at the Weeping Wounded Heart gas station...you know the one...with that huge weeping willow out front. Gutter will pick you up there. There's a nice concrete bench outside. Why don't I pick up your Italian friends at the mall, it's been awhile since I've been there, I'll pick up some pizza, and after you're done shooting the video we'll get the party started at their motel! So tell me more about this Angela. Does she really have five kids with three different guys?"

"No...that's four, all boys, Gunner, Garlito, and the twins, Giovanni and Giancarlo," I answered, while petting Sonny in the sidecar, trying not to think, to stay in the moment, that place where I was always safe, wondering what I'd said to Marcus...oh how damning and ordinary conversation can be.

I WAS ESCORTED OFF his bike onto a corner that faced the Fresh Fish Market. After inhaling the pungent smell of rotting salmon and cod coming from their dumpster, more than ever I felt like the last thing I could possibly want was to be in another typical music video exploiting women as sex objects and be handled by some drunk guy named Gutter.

Peering down at my favorite blue calico cotton summer dress, wearing my black combat boots, with my dad's brown cardigan on, I just couldn't imagine why anyone would want to photograph me. I pulled skull cap down and watched as my Marcus rode off with Sonny to do what I did want to do—party with my friends.

The crunchy white gas station gravel was stained with the remains of various petroleum products as I literally ran to the only thing that seemed to make any sense—the large weeping willow, covered with fresh Popsicle-green new growth leaves and gleaming with endless possibilities.

I paused, then turned to hug the trunk, my mind racing back to that fateful Eve of the Hazel Moon so many years ago, tears flowing knowing how much that night changed me. Looking down I could see pairs of nightcrawlers lined up next to each other carrying out their mating ritual. Looking up to the chirps of song sparrows, I saw a male and female prancing as a prelude to procreating, and following the sound of scampering to the right I noticed a female red squirrel being pursued by two chunky suitors hot on her trail.

Standing next to the great willow I felt myself at the epicenter of a natural world teeming with the hanky-panky life force of renewal and where was I—November Rainer Savitchian, abandoned at the Willow Wounded Heart Gas Station. Then, I began tingling all over.

An early May breezed picked up. It carried an intoxicating familiar fragrance—lily of the valley, spiced with the warmer notes of Patchouli. Looking up I saw a swirl of white hawthorn flowers. Slowly emerging from the cloud of petals, breathtakingly beautiful, singing with a songbird's voice, yet always projecting her sassy devil-may-care personality, there she was.

"Luna!"

Hazel Moon "Basket" Magic

My sister, Lori, and I were at the Kenosha harbor last night to have a brief meeting with our editor. Walking up to the coffee shop where he was waiting for us we saw a bike with a wicker basket. A rare sight on any day, but on a day when both the authors of Hazel Moon were meeting to finalize preparations to launch our book, I sensed Magic!

In our story, a young November rides her bike over to Dickey's house to help him heal from some awful facial skin burns. She brings the medicine and other things for a healing ritual in a wicker basket on her bicycle! (See excerpt below) But the Hazel Moon Magic wasn't over!

Our story covers a 24-hour period during which November and Angela attend a music concert featuring Echo and the Bunnymen. We didn't know this was happening when we went to see our editor, but on the other side of the harbor a music festival was going on! So, of course, being the ultimate concert bunnies Lori and I went to check it out and did some dancing to a band covering '80s rock tunes!!

It will be a sad day if and when the Hazel Moon Magic ever does stop...

BOOK EXCERPT

from Chapter 9

TANNING WAS IN, spurred on by the ever popular sun-drenched Baywatch bodies, and Dickey had fallen asleep under a sunlamp.  His parents were gone on a business trip, leaving him to deal with the red, oozy goo that used to be his face. Caked with a white medicinal paste, the pain excruciating, unable to go out for days he lay in bed, on his back, staring at the orange-and-red pop art poppies on the ceiling wallpaper.

During the day he'd look through his leaded-glass window, encircled by leafy vines, and out into a world that was passing him by. November would often walk by his house on the way to and from school and knew where Dickey lived. From hallway gossip she also knew what had happened to him.

One day Dickey saw her pedaling a purple Huffy two-wheeler sporting a straw basket dotted with salmon-colored plastic flowers. The basket had to be filled with something heavy because it kept bouncing on the front tire, forcing November to stop, get off, and straighten the mess out before proceeding.

Always fashion-forward, rebelliously on display was her own one-of-a-kind variation of the Ramones' punk rock bowl-cut coiffeur. Hair was covering the right side of her head, to down over her ear, while the left was shaved, including the eyebrow on that side.

She could have been delivering supplies to a Native American medicine man as the basket was jammed with tinctures, and tonics of motherwort, gorse, and Chinese wolfberry. Nestled on the bottom was a red-and-white first aid kit. Drawn on it freehand with a black Sharpie, a skull and crossbones.

Dickey remembered watching November, a Florence-Nightingale halo seemingly glowing over her head, untie the basket and carry it up the flagstone steps to his front door. They were close, so Dickey let her in and they went up to a guest quarters in the attic where they'd have some privacy.

Yes, Dickey was sick and in need of medicine, but true health was never only about the body.

She brought sidewalk chalk and drew a perfect six-foot circle with a pentagram inside before placing unlit candles in tinted glass containers on each of the five points. To begin the healing spell, November disrobed right down to her birthday suit and sat down in the Lotus position in the center of the circle.

She couldn't have been less concerned about being naked. In the Garden of Eden, Eve had no sense that she was supposed to be wearing clothes. The Spirits guiding November came into being long before the Garden of Eden. She was simply honoring them by honoring their traditions.

Like a young swan nestling in her breast feathers, November's head lay down over her chest, muffling tears but not hiding them. Suddenly she was ready, her expression changed, she got up and darted back to the basket. With the misdirection skill of a David Copperfield performing table magic, she seemed to materialize a black-handled double-edged dagger from thin air.

"What the hell...what is all this about anyway...it's not Halloween, November," a spooked Dickey hissed.

Uncomfortable with the Not Normal aspect of the white-witch scene unfolding, he attempted to change the mood, casually picked out a Nina Simone record from a stack near the record player, and dropped the needle on "Little Girl Blue."

November could appreciate that Dickey was a world-of-wizardry novice and took a moment to educate him.

"Dickey...this dagger... it's a ceremonial Athame. Just trust me and I can help you."

She took her left finger and began softly stroking the blade, then while grasping it she joined Dickey at the record player and forced his hand around hers, before pressing him slowly to the ground.

Dickey began to resist, but November persisted and when she had him down and back in the center of the pentagram, she forced his hand around hers and the dagger.

"Create the Magic Circle with me...please, Dickey...will you?"

They were buds from way back, but where Dickey's family was well off, November lived most of her disadvantaged life in the town's trailer park. But they did have a long history together and he could tell how serious she was.

Seeing what was engraved on her face, now etched with the weight of the world, flushed with the Grim Reaper's color, sunset blood red, Dickey's resistance vanished.

"...I'm in...you know that...let's roll."

Now holding November's hand tight, the one grasping the ceremonial weapon, he jacketed her from behind, both sitting on the floor, and he helped her gauge through the chalk, and through the layers of expensive inlaid floor; Madagascar, ebony, and yew, to carve out an engraved circle and pentagram. The carving completed, she replaced the ritual beeswax candles on the pentagram points.

November began lighting each, then, returned to the center.

"Dickey...come inside the circle with me."

The room began swirling with a tapestry of shifting colors, the kind of enhanced sensory distortion you might expect on an acid trip, but November had conjured up a different kind of psychedelic experience.

Caught up in the surreal ceremonial moment, he joined her in reverent silence, as if they were in church and about to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion.

"Dickey, close your eyes."

Again, he complied.

"Ancient Ones, keepers of the old wisdom, thank you for joining us. We ask you to bestow your healing arts on behalf of this most worthy soul here with me. Bless him with your power as we honor you."

With the words of the spell spoken, November took Dickey's hands and pulled him toward her. She then began kissing his scabbed and infected cheeks.

Wherever her lips touched his skin, it was instantly returned to baby-bottom perfection. With each kiss the lights in the house surged on and off, lightning cracked, thunder bellowed, and the windows and walls rattled as the wind roared like a freight train as if a tornado were passing by.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Dickey's intense childhood memory abruptly ended when Angela, behaving like a frisky Playboy Bunny, high on the Rhine wine, warm beer, and live music, turned and planted a passionate kiss right on his lips!

 

 

Couture Clothes Anyone...

My sister, Lori, and I were out shopping, browsing really at the high-end clothing store Nordstrom, I say browsing because their prices are usually out of our not-from-the-Hampton's budget range. With our book nearing a release date, Lori realized we should pick up something special for our first book signing when she spotted a cute cute dress that would be perfect. Now we needed two, and Nordstrom dresses are usually in the several hundreds of dollars on up. What's a pair of twin girls to do?

Remember during the Hazel Moon party at Lily Lake Resort, when our publisher gave us proof copies of our book, within minutes people began flocking to us expressing interest in buying copies...it was as if the Book had a mind and a purpose of its own and was opening doors to finding us an audience! Well, the normally $400 dresses had been marked down to a clearance price of only $10, so we bought two!! (If you want to see them you'll have to come to our book signings!!)

If you've read Hazel Moon one of the opening scenes has November and Angela working at Merry-Go-Round in a mall, a relatively high-end fashion-conscious boutique popular in the '80s that sold expensive jeans and other clothes. Later in the story, November told Angela to put on an expensive couture dress she'd gotten from Finn, a former fling, so our story was closely connected the world of couture and Nordstrom might be considered an upscale evolution of the Merry-Go-Round franchise.

Mere coincidence...or more Magic???!!!

From the book:

Chapter 3

A contemplative mood overwhelmed November as she flipped her bangs whimsically while considering the implications of what she'd just said to Angela.

"The band and the guys in the band are older than both of us put together. I think they have the experience to handle whatever the night throws at them. Besides, I think they're scheduled to perform until midnight, the bewitching hour, and on the Eve of the Hazel Moon. Doesn't that play into your fantasies of something mystical and unexpected unfolding at the festival?"

Angela was feeling it, both coy and seductive decked out in her new-moon black Paris couture gown. November's worries over demons and evil didn't bother her. Darkness was just like the rain—it might affect you, but it was the same old story, the same old song and dance.

She knew November was moody, but this was a night for fun and frolic.

"All-knowing high priestess serving the great God of Music, wait till you see what's going on at the Tampax Stage. Girl, think diamond-studded earrings, like everywhere!"

Still stressing, November replied, "Angela...Angela...just like you to go all mall materialistic on me when I'm like this—you really don't get me, do you?"

A moment to reflect and November realized she'd always been a sucker for the Tampax Stage.

"It's really low-platform but so real. I saw the Violent Femmes and Kate Bush there before they went gold. The reverb was garbling the sound so most of the crowd left, but it was rad for those of us who showed and stayed—I mean it mattered...it made a difference...you know?"

"Well, that's cool that you remember it that way, but dig this, that stage has completely changed," Angela conveyed, animated like a Hanna-Barbara cartoon character, acting as if she'd just spilled the secret to eternal life.

"Yep...Dickey, Mr. Tricky, and me, Miss G, checked it out last night...that's right, my parents didn't even know I snuck out! We slammed down some TJ Swan. I like Dickey. He talks about you a lot. Didn't he tell you about how rockin' the stage looks now? I thought he was your biggest, best buddy?"

"Not these days...we run into each other, but that's about it," November replied, her attention more on the accelerating Camaro's hum and grumble.

After downing her drink, Angela went on, "The stage is all rigged up like a castle or monastery...or something like that, with torches and lava lamps—it rocks! And, your boys, Echo and the Bunnymen, are playing there tonight!"

"Well...whatever, Angel, all the frills, stages and venues and such, just don't mean much to me...I'm all about Bunnymen—if they were playing on the moon I'd want to go see them there."

November's voice became breathy and jittery, like when you down a week's worth of birth control pills right after unprotected sex with a guy you'd never marry in a million years.

 

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."

The Healing Hazel Moon...

The night of the 2015 full Hazel Moon, August 29, my sister Lori and I were at the Lily Lake Resort where singer lovely Lori was entertaining the dinner crowd along with amazing Dave, the Elvis tribute artist. Getting up, I just knew something November-like would happen...after all it was the morning of the full, rising Eve of the Hazel Moon! Few people at the resort that evening knew that I'd slipped and hurt myself in the morning while walking my dog, Jake. I thought I'd cracked a rib, but that pain would have been excruciating. Nevertheless, my bruised side hurt quite a bit.

After Lori and Dave were done entertaining, we had dinner and the end of the eventful evening was drawing near. Just before we ate, Lori made up a prayer of thanks to the Spirit of the Hazel Moon. After that I made my way down to the lake shore, found a stout trunk, and gave the tree a long, reverent hug. Shortly after that, the pain in my side was gone!

Of course, I'm not claiming to have been healed by the power of the Hazel Moon, as the stories of magic in my book might suggest, but I felt like something mystical had happened.

Many of us have grown up in the Christian tradition, hearing and believing stories of healings at the hands of Jesus and the other disciples. I can't help but believe that those same healing energies might be available through other sources and the hands of other healers given similar gifts.

It is our hope that more than anything else, Hazel Moon will help the reader stay open to all the Magic & Mystery the world has to offer.