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In-Person Appearance This Saturday!

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There will be an appearance Saturday, April 8th by Jennifer Friess!!!

That doesn’t seem very glamorous. Wait, that’s me.

But, heck, I’m announcing it anyway.

Tomorrow me, and several other even more fabulous authors, will be at the Lenawee District Library from 2:30PM-4:00PM. That is a short window of time, so if you snooze, you will lose.

The LDL, as they refer to themselves, can be found at 4459 W. US-223, Adrian, MI 49221.

This will be my first event where I will have copies of Troll Gurl and the Cursed Kingdom to sell. I am so excited to be able to tell people about Ginny’s story in person!

To see other events, please click here: EVENTS PAGE

Don’t forget, if you sign up for my newsletter during the month of April you will have a chance to win TWO ROCK STAR PASSES to the Great Lakes Books Bash, October 27 & 28th! The two passes cover admission to the signing & panels Friday as well as early admission to the signing on Saturday and panels on Saturday.

Click here to sign up.

From the broken mind of Jennifer Friess, the joining of hearts & souls…
NOW AVAILABLE! Troll Gurl and the Cursed Kingdom

Religion and My Mom – Like Oil and Water

A few weeks ago, I went with my asbestos friend around her neighborhood trick or treating to collect canned goods for the local food pantry. My husband and son were along as well. The activity was part of the church’s Wednesday night dinner and study. Sometimes my husband and I go for dinner. We don’t do the “study” part so much, but we often can be found at the church’s activities.

I was trying to tell my mom about this the next day, without disclosing it had anything to do with the church. I told her that we went to Blissfield and had dinner with my asbestos friend. I told her then we walked around the neighborhood because it was such a beautiful night, and that the toddlers played musical seats between the stroller and the wagon.

She got to asking me her million questions (as she has no life of her own and lives vicariously through mine), and I admitted I wasn’t telling her that these activities took place at the church.

“Just as long as you don’t find religion. You aren’t finding religion, are you?”, Mom pushed.

“I am an adult. I can do whatever the f*ck I want to do,” I raised my voice at her.

“You think you hid things from me, but I know. You told me that all those nights you weren’t really at P’s, you were out gallivanting around. I knew that,” she said.

She doesn’t know what it’s like to have a baby in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) and how good it feels to know a whole church full of people are praying (or positively thinking or whatever) for him.  Or how good it feels when he is finally better and it feels as though all those people’s thoughts may have moved something in the universe to create that desired outcome.

She also doesn’t know about my two tattoos, that when I used to come home and tell her she smelled car exhaust on my clothes that it was actually cigarette smoke that she smelled, that I got my roof redone and it had issues, that I have a blog, that I write about her on my blog she doesn’t know about, that I went to Detroit by myself, that I am interviewing for jobs, that our my family’s name is in the church directory.

I didn’t want to tell her when I was pregnant, but I thought even she would have figured it out sooner or later. And I was like 5 months along by the time I told her.

Back to the religion thing. I am pretty sure that I do not believe what everyone else at the church believes about God and the Bible. I do enjoy spending time with my asbestos friend there. I do believe they are a very nice and good group of people at that church, who have accepted my family even though we are a bunch of tag-alongs. I do believe that my husband was raised in the church and doesn’t mind going there. I believe it is good for my son to experience aspects of the church, including the sense of community spirit.

Have I found religion, Mother? No, and I probably never will. Because you have drilled it into my head that I am undeserving of belonging because you never wanted to.

While I don’t believe, I see where it would be so much nicer and happier and simpler if I did. I envy that people can feel like there is something out there more than their fragile human selves. I would love to believe that there is a Heaven to hang out in when I die, instead of having panic attacks as I try to fall asleep at night thinking of the black nothingness when my life suddenly stops and I just cease to exist and my whole life was for nothing.

It makes me sad.

My mom’s hate also saddens me.

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

Scoopin’ Poop

Picking up dog poop is very degrading. I think that when I see my neighbor scooping his dog’s poop. I feel degraded when I scoop up the poop in my yard, twice as much as what my neighbor has (Dave poop & Parker poop). What is that saying dog’s have? “Who is the real Master? You pick up MY poop.”

Photo: web.uri.edu

Photo: web.uri.edu

To add to this humiliation at being janitor to my canines, the other day my toddler sat in his Cozy Coupe and supervised me while I scooped. He made me feel like I was completing community service and he was my prison warden. I should have given him my cap gun so that he could take me down if I decided to make a run for it.

The warden & his chase vehicle

In a few weeks I am dog sitting a wonderful dog, except for one thing–HE POOPS! Just like my two existing dogs! So my backyard poo will go up…um, 33% maybe? I don’t know the math, but you get the idea. Hopefully my husband will have mowed the lawn by then, so long grass will no longer be my problem. By late-October, leaves will be my problem, falling and burying all the poo.

Photo: farm3.static.flickr.com

Photo: farm3.static.flickr.com

After the leaves, comes the snow.

Before I got a dog, I was like “I can’t wait to have a dog. It will be so worth having to pick up her poo.” And it was. With one dog.

Dave: Please some treats…so that I may make you more poop?

Then my husband got a dog. I thought we would take turns scooping the poop. No such luck. I tried to make a deal, figuring that dog pick-up duty and balancing the checkbook were the two most despised jobs in our home. But no such luck. My husband won’t perform either of those tasks.

Parker, thinking about asking to go out to poo

The fear of the dogs tracking poo into the house and my need (and my son’s) to freely walk in our backyard keep me diligent about keeping it picked up. Well…once a week anyway…

Photo: leashyourfitness.com W-O-W. . .How do I teach my dog to do that?

Photo: leashyourfitness.com
W-O-W. . .How do I teach my dog to do that?

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

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