Leap Year 2012

by J. Paulette Forshey

Leap Year comes about every four years thanks to the Gregorian calendar, and was introduced as part of the Julian reform to even out the days and months. Well, that didn’t quite work , because the guys who came up with all this realized too late they’d screwed up. They found they needed an extra day every four years to make their grand calculations work.

It took the fictional character, Sadie Hawkins, notice a woman, to make something out of this man made mistake. Okay, okay, a man named Al Capp, a comic strip writer, actually came up with Sadie Hawkins, but I’m sure his muse was, until then, a repressed female.

Fictional Sadie Hawkins, daughter of a Dogpatch settler, was called the “homeliest gal in all them hill”. Poor Sadie wanted a man, didn’t matter if he was rich, poor, handsome, or ugly, she just want a guy, after all she was turning the ripe old age of 35. Nearly a sin at the time to be that age and have no one to look after her.

Sadie’s daddy, Hekzebiah, as all daddies do, wanted his little girl to have what she desired, so he declared a “Sadie Hawkins Day”. The bachelors of the area were lined up for a foot race, most kicking and screaming. The one Sadie caught and dragged across the finish line would be her husband.  I honestly don’t remember if Sadie caught her man or not, but Mr. Capp had started something. He gave women a chance to take their lives into their own hands when it came to dating.

Two years later, from when the comic strip debut in 1937, young people residing in the United States and Canada, of high school and college age, started having SadiE Hawkins Day dances in 1939. This new custom gave the girls an opportunity to ask the guys out, where before, women had to wait for the man to make the first move.

Capp was so honored he made it a tradition to have Sadie Hawkins, now give the official month of November, in his comic strip for the next four decades.

Today’s societies still have Sadie Hawkins Day Dances, but there is less pressure for either sex to ask the other out on dates, it’s turned more into a celebration of the young.

As to those babies born on February 29, they have several choices for a birthday. They can claim February 28, or March 01, should they choose to celebrate every year. Those who are more age conscience can party every four years, thus, reducing their age.

Any way you mark the date it’s a day of rejoicing, so bring out the balloons, party hats, cake, ice cream, or champagne and chocolate and dance the extra 24 hours away.

The month of February gives me two big days to celebrate. The first is Valentine’s Day, which also happens to be the date of my wedding anniversary. The second is ten days later on the 24th, the birth date of my oldest son.

The night I went into labor is one I’ll never forget. A month before my due date my husband felt safe enough to work out of town. He was away overnight and dutifully called around 9pm to make sure all was well at home. I felt fine and was relaxing on the couch after a long day at work. I went to bed shortly after and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Around midnight everything changed.

A terrible pain in my butt made me wake with a start. It felt like an intense cramp, but I didn’t fear I was in labor because you can’t possibly have contractions in your butt—right? Outside my window raged the ice storm of the century. My house was old and the windows didn’t offer much insulation against the elements, but I’d cranked up the heat and was cozy enough. Unfortunately, all the ice creeping in from outside didn’t mix well with the heat from the inside and abruptly turned to water. The dripping almost drove me insane.

It was so hard to fall back to sleep. Nearly impossible considering the reoccurring pains in my behind and the steady drip, drip, drip in the bedroom. I put a thick towel down to catch the drips but the sound was still there. I found rolling my body from side to side on my waterbed seemed to help with the pain so I did that—for hours.

At about six in the morning I decided to give up trying to sleep. I got up and went into the bathroom. When I came out, a ripping pain in my back-end had me keeling over in agony. I called my sister, who having two children of her own, I considered an expert on childbirth. Yes, you can have contractions in your bum! Call the doctor! she said.

The doctor told me to get to the hospital right away. I called my mom to meet me down there, and then called my sister-in-law. She said she’d try to get hold of my husband and would send her husband—who happens to be my husband’s twin brother—to drive me to the hospital. These were the days when everybody didn’t readily carry around cell phones. My husband didn’t have one and locating him turned into quite an escapade. Thank goodness for the tenacity of my sister-in-law or he’d have missed the birth of his son.

My brother-in-law got me to the hospItal in good time despite the treacherous weather and white-knuckle drive. He checked me in, signing his brother’s name and I got into my room and waited. My doctor arrived soon after and confirmed I was in labor—a month early. I was nervous but I’m very lucky to have a large family, several of whom came by and sat with me throughout the day.

My brother-in-law, who my doctor thought was my husband, helped time my contractions and encouraged me to breathe. My sister had a toy elephant all ready and waiting for her nephew. She also let me squeeze her hand when they put an IV into me. I think she still bears the grip marks I left on her.

Finally, when my husband arrived hours later, he and his brother swapped places, freaking out my doctor in the process when she saw them side-by-side. My husband had been pulled over at the border, of course, and the windshield wipers had died on him halfway home. He’d had to drive with the window down and use a squeegee to clear away the icy snow.

It took a grand total of 19 hours and 43 minutes before I could meet my son. His beauty was unmatched until I gave birth to his brother two years and eight months later.

Though my first little boy is now 19 years old, it feels just like yesterday that he made his entry into the world, turning a cold, crazy day into a celebration of life, and love.

Julie

My website: http://julieparker.yolasite.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/JulieParker26

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/juliep2

Welcome! Thank you so much for joining us today on the Whispers Publishing Blog! Please tell us a little about yourself and your job.

Thank you so much, I’m so happy to be here!  I’m a designer for authors, doing cover art, website headers and promotional items.   I love to be creative, so designing just sort of fell into my routine.  I’m also an award winning author and a mother of two boys, ages 2 and 14.  Yes, it’s as exhausting as you think….

How many years have you been a cover artist?

Actually I’ve only been a professional artist for a little over a year now.

Can you name some of the Whispers Publishing covers you’ve Worked on?

I’ve just been invited to start doing Whispers covers, but the two that I’ve done are 33 Days ‘Til Christmas and Perfect to the Corps.  My upcoming cover releases will include Gillian’s Angel, All the Wrong Moves and The Pick-up Wife.

Since we’re rocking out to Christmas music in here, what are you listening to? Do you listen to music while you draft covers? Do certain types of music inspire you?

I am listening to a whining toddler and America’s Funniest Home Videos, LOL!  I don’t listen to music when designing because my toddler becomes jealous of my earbuds and HAS to listen too.  Makes it hard to concentrate.  When I do get to listen to music I prefer Rock and some Pop.

What cues do you wish authors would give on cover art request forms? Do you like a lot of direction or do you prefer to let your creativity have free reign?

Authors are usually pretty good with giving me exactly what I need.  I do prefer direction because the more info I have the closer I can get to creating a cover the author will really want to show off and therefore market.  The more people they show their cover to, the more people will want to read their book.

What’s one genre you’ve always wanted to create a cover for?

I have created art for every genre out there.  My absolute favorite is fantasy.  You can really let your imagination take flight and the use of colors is strongly encouraged.  Anyone who follows my work knows I’m a color diva!

Do you have a favorite stock photo site?

I have about five. *grin*  I really love Photoxpress because they don’t have a size limit and they have some of my favorite photographers.

What kind of software do you generally use?

I actually use a free software program called GIMP.  I have Photoshop for printing reasons, but after creating three or four covers in it, the program just wasn’t doing what my free program could, so I went back.  I know that may shock a lot of people, but don’t fix what isn’t broken!

When you look at covers, do you find yourself critiquing them and reworking them in your mind?

Bad cover art has always bothered me, it’s why I became an artist.  But now I find that truly horrible cover art makes me want to cry.  And then there are covers that just blow my mind, there’s some awesome talent out there.

How did you become a cover artist? Do you have a degree in art? Or are you self-taught?

I became a cover artist because I never wanted a bad cover to grace one of my books.  I didn’t know if I’d be any good at it.  But another cover artist, who works for some big name publishers, took one look at my work and said I had the potential to be an industry leader.  I was blown away by her words.  I never expected that!  So I just kept going with it and hoped she wasn’t wrong.  I’m self-taught, lots of trial and error and lots of tutorials and conversations with other designers.

Do you ever read the books you design covers for?

I wish I could!  I do like to get the print copies of some of my cover designs, so I can see how they look and hopefully, eventually read them.  I’ve read one or two to date, it’s hard to find the time to read lately.

Okay, a few more personal questions.

Coffee, tea, or something harder? Tea, black with a hint of mint.

What do you prefer your hero to wear? Boxers or briefs? Boxers.  *wink*

Favorite comfort food? Fried chicken

Favorite author? Iris Johansen

Cat or dog? Cat

Sweet or salty? Sweet

Early bird or night owl? Night Owl (I hate mornings)

Thanks again for joining us. We’ve loved the insight into your mind! Thank you for having me!!!

www.elainalee.com

www.forthemusedesign.com

elaina-lee.blogspot.com

www.facebook.com/elainaleeauthor

I must admit it.  I’m a sucker for fast cars plus smooth chrome and steel.  The sound a new turbo charged engine makes me quiver at the knees.  That super charged feeling of excitement that I get hearing a fast car lead me to create my latest Whispers release.

Being an AmericaN, we’ve long been connected in an intimate way to our cars.  I remember as a female kid boasting with the boys about what car I’d get to  drive one day.  The machine topping the list was forever a mustang.  Every time, I’d see one cruising by on the street; I’d pant like an in love school girl.  Only the object of my attention and affection contained hard metal and plush leather seats.  Although, life’s seasons changed and a little girl grew up to marry her handsome prince, a fascination with  automobiles remained.

It was during my last visit to the Brighton speed trials that the idea for my latest release as Marina Cross, Jackie’s Red mustang was born.   This story of a Las Vegas city planner carried away on a night of high charged passion to push the limits of what she’d ever done before formed while listening plus watching automobiles of every shape and model tear along tarmac as they attempted to beat the speed trial  leader’s personal best.

Jackie’s story should resonate with people of all shapes and sizes that find their lives are carried away by form coupled with a function that overshadows some of the fun of just living.  I hope readers will find a reason to cheer, laugh and even feel a bit of excitement as Jackie takes on her lover in a sexy chase she secretly wants to lose to win.

Of the three daughters my parents had, I was the middle child. You’ve heard of the middle child syndrome? Well, it’s real, it’s crippling and I didn’t outgrow it until age thirty or so — about the same time I grew a brain. Okay, to be perfectly accurate, I already had the brain, I just realized it actually functioned at about age thirty.
Within the family, I was known as many things, but at the top of their collective lists would be sensitive and overemotional to which I plead a resounding no contest. I was also laughingly tagged the ugly baby – which I now take objection to.
I don’t recall the first time a member of my family suggested that I was the ugly baby of the family; I only know it was a rather recurrent theme in our home. Every time the photo albums came out, there it was — a general marveling at what pretty babies my sisters were and, yes, you guessed it, laughter and comments about my little, pug nose, pale blue eyes and the fact that I didn’t have any hair. Even when I finally grew hair, it was so white-blonde, you could barely tell it was there.
To be fair, my family probably thought they were handling a basic fact of life with a certain amount of light humor. It’s either that or they’re all cruel and insensitive and surely it’s not that. I write this not to whine, although I’m awfully good at it, but because I think there may be a universal lesson in my Rejection of a long-held notion.
I gave birth to my first child, a daughter, when I was twenty-five. She came into the world with big, blue eyes and a head full of thick, dark hair. In fact, (little side story here) when I was in the final throws of delivery (the baby’s head had just crowned) my husband made the mistake of uttering, “where’d it get all that dark hair?”
Do you recall the scene in The Exorcist when Linda Blair’s head spins around and she spouts off obscenities in a deep, male voice? “Shuuuuuuuut uuuuuuup,” I roared in a voice that bore little if any similarity to my own. Poor man. He cowered immediately, as did many of the nurses in the room. I felt kind of badly about it once the pain had subsided and I no longer wanted to tear his head from his body.
Three and a half years later, I gave birth to twin daughters. It was a labor and delivery that convinced me I must have been a Nazi in a previous life, but that’s another story. The babies had light blue eyes, no hair and, even when they did grow some, it was so white-blonde you couldn’t see it very well. In short, they looked remarkably like me as a baby. And they were beautiful!
Now when I look back at my baby photos, I see a sweet looking baby with a soft expression. Would I have won any beautiful baby contests? Probably not — but I was a far cry from an ugly baby. It just goes to show how much ‘knowledge’ we accept about ourselves that’s based on other people’s opinions or cruelty or both.