Lani Wendt Young's Blog

There's a massive shipping container parked outside my house. We're packing. It's really happening...we're moving back to Samoa. And as I shift through piles of junk, sorting the useful from the useless, the reality of what we're doing is slowly starting to sink in. Along with a bit of apprehension. Because even though moving home was my idea (but cleverly dressed up and presented to the family so they would THINK it was their idea...), Samoa aint perfect. Because nowhere is. And there's some things I'm not looking forward to. Like -
1. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night and having to tiptoe with wary apprehension as your eyes search everywhere for a cockroach that might run up your leg. Or a foot long centipede that might bite you. Or a big fat lizard that might drop off the ceiling onto your head and get tangled in your hair. Laughing. Samoa's home, but I will miss being able to walk around my house at night without my bug and pestilence radar on.
2. Having to actually leave the house to buy groceries. I discovered online food shopping here a while back and it changed my life. Are you a hermit who hates putting on real clothes and going OUTSIDE your cave (the light...nooo its too bright!) , hates the time and energy involved in going to the store? When you could be sitting at your desk writing or eating? Or online chatting to your writer besties halfway round the world? If that's you then you need online grocery shopping. I love buying everything from the safety of my office and then having it delivered to my very front door. I dread having to actually go to the store in Samoa, navigating dusty potholes, real live people, and did I mention there's real live people out there?
3. Soul sucking, life suffocating HEAT. Samoa is hot. Drenched in humidity. Hot so that you step out of a cold shower and you're sweating even before you finish putting clean clothes on. Hot so that you wither even in the shade. Hot so that you want to climb inside the freezer and live there.
4. Going for a walk or a run and having to watch out for barking, biting dogs that want to rip your leg open. Carrying a few stones in your pocket. Or wielding a stick. For those...#JustInCaseOfDog moments.
5. Leaving my Big Son behind. He will go with us for a few weeks to Samoa but then he starts university in Auckland at the end of February. This child has been my constant companion for eighteen years. I've only ever been apart from him for a few weeks at a time when I went overseas to have a new baby. Apart from the worrying about him as he navigates his first year away from home - I will miss him dreadfully as my friend. In the last year, our relationship has become less #MotherAndSon and more of #FriendsAndEquals. He's funny. Insightful. And we can talk for hours about everything random under the sun. Its an oh-so inevitable thing because its time for me to let him go, but yes, the hardest thing about moving to Samoa, will be missing my firstborn child.
Aaargh, and now I'm getting super sad and this was supposed to be a lighthearted whine and whinge about going to Samoa! Back on track here, my question for you readers who have been to Samoa: I know you love the motherland, but what do YOU dread about going back? What gets on your nerves? Come on now...be honest!
A reminder this blog address has moved. For all the latest blog updates, please go to http://laniwendtyoung.me/my-blog/

A reminder this blog has moved house address to Wordpress: http://laniwendtyoung.me/

The nice thing about being married to a man who owns his own construction company, is he can design AND build your house for you. The Hot Man is freakishly clever like that. How lucky am I??? I went out with him for his sexilicious self and had no clue he actually had like…skills…talents…housebuilding moneymaking potential… But then that’s the thing about only marrying people for their sexilicious-ness, everything else is a surprise. (Or disappointment as the case may be…)But I digress.  We’re moving back to Samoa in a few months and since we sold our old home,  the Hot Man has to build us a new one over there. He was getting a little stressed, worrying about the costs and hassle of relocating. (As he does.) And I was blissfully thinking of how wonderful its going to be to go home. In other words, not thinking about such MINOR details like money, packing, or building a house in the blazing hot sun. (As I do.) But  I am not a cold, heartless wife. Oh no. I noted his concerns and rushed to assuage them. Magnanimously....Read the rest over at : http://laniwendtyoung.me/

Update: Thank you for your enthusiasm and patience as I work with a fabulous team to get The Bone Bearer ready for release. I can confirm this next book in the TELESA Series will be released in August, first as an e-book and then later, in print. There are several events planned in NZ, Australia and Samoa for the book release. Some have yet to be finalized. There will be book signings in Auckland, Hamilton and possibly Wellington. I can announce that thanks to a generous invitation from Griffith University in Queensland, I will be launching this book in Brisbane on August 27th-29th. From there I will be in Samoa for a book signing/party during the week of the Teuila Festival. Please sign up for my author newsletter  if you would like to be informed when the book is released and where you can get your copy. I am excited to get this book out into the world and hope very much that you enjoy this final chapter of Leila and Daniel's often turbulent love story.
Here's a brief peek at what you can expect!

“No more talking! I don’t need you. I’ll go hunt down these women myself,” raged Pele. She snapped then and sent a ball of flame barreling towards Daniel.
Everyone shouted at once. “No!”
Daniel threw his hands up in front of his face but the flames never landed. Instead something slammed into him, pushing him out of the way and taking the attack meant for him. Not something – someone.
Keahi. He took the direct hit and relished it. An instant of poised crimson outline and then Keahi burst into flame. A whoop of glee. “Yeah!”
Pele was stunned. “What are you?” She slowly walked towards him with her eyes alight, hand outstretched. “So beautiful.”
“You like?” Keahi asked as he flexed, sending ripples of orange and gold racing up and down his body.
“But, it’s impossible,” breathed Pele. “You are a man.”
“Yes ahh am,” drawled Keahi.
“Oh don’t make me vomit,” said Simone. He came up beside Daniel. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” said Daniel. He was trying to hide it but Simone could tell how shaken he was that Leila/Pele had really tried to attack him. He looked over at Keahi. “Thanks.”
The boy on fire shrugged, “Now we’re even.” He turned back to Pele. “You really shouldn’t flame at your friends like that. They’re not indestructible. Not like me.”
Pele was entranced. “Never in all my many lifetimes did I ever imagine there could be a boy Keawe. Our Mother Earth never entrusted her sacred power to males. But, it makes perfect sense. How much better it would be to have a mating of two fire gods!”
Keahi immediately lost all his swagger. There was an akward silence as the others exchanged stunned looks. WTF?!
Pele was oblivious. She reached to caress Keahi’s face with fingers of fire. “Have you ever tried it?”
“Umm, tried what?” said Keahi as he took a step back.
Pele was impatient. “Have you ever loved another fire god?”
“No, can’t say that I have,” he replied with an embarrassed laugh.
“It all makes sense now,” Pele said. “The sense of peace and connection I feel when I’m with you, why you made my pain go away. It’s because we’re the same. We’re meant to be together.” She took his hands in hers and announced with triumph, “This is why I have been reborn at this time and in this place. So we could find each other.”

I'm in Kansas City, Missouri.  Gotta say, I never thought I’d ever start a blog with THAT sentence.  I'm sitting here in the Sheraton hotel Convention center, waiting for my chicken quesadilla lunch, hoping it hurries up and gets here because the next session starts in 30 minutes – and if I had a dog, I’d be saying – “I don’t think we’re in Samoa anymore Toto.” But because it would be a Samoan dog, its name would more probably be Bingo. Blackie. Whiskey. Or Rambo. (and yes, I know the Wizard of Oz started off in Kansas which is a totally different place from Kansas City but work with me here people…)
This is my first time back to America in over twenty years. How and why did I get here?  No, a tornado didn’t chuck me over here.  I took a 12 hr flight from Auckland to Los Angeles. Then I sat in the LA airport for eight hours, waiting for a flight that kept getting delayed. And I was sitting next to a bag that SOMEBODY left behind, suspiciously enough the police ...

My blog has moved to a new address. Please join me there for the rest of this scintillating blogpost on my travels to Kansas City...  http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/were-not-in-samoa-anymore-toto-or-new-zealand/

This morning, Bella wants to know, "What's that thing called so you can stand up and pee?" She mimes standing there with an imaginary something in her hands, spraying imaginary pee everywhere in a really cool way. Explaining, "See, make it go that way. Make it go over there. Make it go over here."
I smile with a confident cheerfulness I do not feel, "A penis."
She nods sagely, "A penis. Why don't I got one?"
I look around for her Dad but of course at mind-cringing moments like these, he is nowhere to be found. "Because you're a girl and only boys have a penis."
She is not happy. "What do I got then?"
More bright cheer because Im just soooo happy to be having this unexpected anatomical conversation with a five year old this morning. "You have something really special called a vagina. And a vulva! And you've got a cli...ummm...yeah, and lots of other really great things."
She's still frowning. "But I can't stand up and pee like this with a vagina."

....My blog has a new address. Please join me there for the rest of this scintillating post on Bella and penis-envy. http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/i-want-a-penis/

I love getting email. Especially when its not spam. Not my electricity bill. Not an overdue library books notice. But nice email from really nice people who have read TELESA and actually liked it enough to write and tell me so. Emails that light up my day. Emails like that are more exciting than a six pack of Boston cream donuts.
I got an extra nice one last week. From a librarian in Levin who was buying a copy of the 'I am Daniel Tahi' novella. She asked if I could please sign it to three students. She explained, they had never enjoyed reading until they discovered my TELESA book. They devoured the first two books and went to show her with great excitement - that another book was available from my website. This librarian was happy to fuel their reading fire by buying a copy for them AND emailing me to ask if I could please sign it to the girls by name.
I want to take a moment here to tell you ( in case you didnt already know) that librarians ROCK. And school librarians who really care about their students and their reading buzz REALLY rock. I wrote back immediately to thank her and let her know I would be including some book swag extras in the mail as a special gift to the students and posters for the library.

My blog has a new home address - to read more, please click on this link and come on over and join us at our new blog site.  http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/03/11/whats-more-exciting-than-donuts/

Today we celebrated Little Daughter's birthday. Eleven years ago, she joined us and almost didn't stay. The growing of Little Daughter was fraught with worry, vomit, crying, panic and blood - most of those pregnant months were spent trying to claw myself out of an abyss of depression. At six weeks, I started bleeding and doctors warned me I would probably miscarry. I took leave from work and waited. Prayed. Hoped. The bleeding stopped. The puking started. So did the depression. It continued through to the sixth month of pregnancy. Every now and then, the bleeding would start up again. More scans. More warnings. More prayers.

At 30 weeks, I got very sick with pre-eclampsia. (Again.) I was flown out from Samoa to Auckland. An ambulance was waiting at the airport for me. At the hospital, specialists told us that our baby had stopped growing a while ago. There was little or no fluid in the placenta thingy. She wasnt getting enough food or oxygen. She hadnt been getting enough for awhile. 'Be prepared' they said. 'Even if she makes it, she could have extensive damage to her internal organs...brain damage...' We were afraid. They delivered our baby by c-section. She went straight into an incubator in the neonatal unit. Her skin was almost see-through. I couldnt hold her. She was so tiny. But she was feisty. She ate, yelled and grew. Everything about her was perfect. They told us she would live in hospital for months. But we took her home after three weeks. I bathed her in a cake mixing-bowl...

Want to read more? My blog has moved to a new address. Please click on this link and come on over and join us at our new blog site! http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/03/09/your-fearless-delicacies/

If you're a man - then you're not allowed to read this blog. None of my kids are allowed to read it either. If you choose to disobey this directive, then I cannot be held responsible for the feelings of horror and/or disgust that may ensue. You have been warned.

Today I want to talk about something nobody ever talked about to ME when I was approaching adulthood/womanhood and possible parenthood. Leakage. I want to know why in heck nobody ever told me that having babies - or even just growing up (and outward), could and most probably WOULD result in faulty pipes?!

Because I am the granddaughter of a plumber, I shall now revert to using appropriate plumbing terminology. You can rest easy about discussing YOUR leaky pipes here because Im
related toa trained professional. *Assumes plumber persona..serious face, clears throat, cough cough no, dont do that! Coughing is BAD for pipes!*

Lets talk about leakage . What is it? It's when your tap drips, dribbles - or just plain ole gushes when you dont want it to. As in when it's not actually turned on. Ladies in the house, you know what I'm talking about?

Want to read more? My blog has moved to a new address. Please click on the following link and come on over and join us at our new site ! -  http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/does-your-plumbing-leak/

1.We go to extreme lengths to delay writing. We want you to leave us alone so we can write but then you will find us: color coding the linen cupboard, cleaning out the fridge, baking three different kinds of cookies (For the children dammit!) Emailing that longlost friend from high school that we havent spoken to in 20 years and probably will never think about again for another 20. Ironing sheets... All of this stuff is essential FOR writing to happen because not until we have taken care of every single loose end and tied every loose thread in the jumbled mess that is our lives...only then can we sit down and actually write something. So, dont ever make the mistake of asking, 'But I thought you were supposed to be writing today?' Or 'Since you're not writing, why don't we have a fun outing to the hardware store together?' No. Just don't. Or we might shank you. Because even though it doesnt LOOK like it - we are WRITING.

2. You need to accept that if you date a writer, she is going to write about you. Somehow, somewhere, sometime. She may not do a Taylor Swift and compose an entire novel dedicated to telling her crappy ex-boyfriend that 'We are NEVER EVER getting Back Together' (and I'm happy and gorgeous and rich and successful and you suck, so there!) No, we're writers. We're more subtle. We have more class. (And most of us are not psycho rich and successful like Ms Swift and we don't want you to sue us for defamation.) Instead, we will put all the nicest pieces of you into our glorious romance leads. And those super sweet things you say or do for us? Will probably end up in a book somewhere. We may give you a pseudonym to protect your
innocence /hotness identity ( like "Hot Man"...) and blog about you. Which will be alright when only three people read our blogs but then it could become a little tricky for you when readership bounces up a few thousand. ( or sixty.) And then you might end up on airplanes where random women giggle and ooh and aah and ask you, 'Are you the Hot Man on so-and-so's blog?!' 

Want to read more? Go to my new blog hangout at this link - http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/26/things-you-should-know-before-you-date-or-heaven-forbid-marry-a-writer/

Somebody asked me the other day, "how come you don't blog/write about being Mormon? Are you trying to hide it?"
It never occurred to me that anyone would construe my NOT blogging about being Mormon as an attempt to 'hide it.' Just like, it never occurred to me to blog about my Mormon-ness purely for the sake of telling my five blog followers that I happen to be Mormon. I mean, does anybody care -what religion an author/blogger is? I know I dont... It drives me nuts when people discuss the Mormon symbolism in Twilight...or debate whether or not Stephanie Meyer is a 'good' Mormon because of what her sparkly characters do. Do we know what religion JK Rowling is? Do we care?
But I digress.
In the interest of full disclosure, I shall blog once and for all about my religion. Yes, I am a Mormon - a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints otherwise known as the LDS church. My parents are also Mormon and they tried their bestest to teach us and raise us according to LDS gospel principles. Some of us frequently run amuck but we're all trying, learning, falling over, and getting back up again. I now try to raise my own children as 'decent' Mormons - and mess up more than I succeed - which is why NOBODY should ever see my blog as an example of a "good Mormon Mom Blog"....*ducks head in shame*
Some of you may be wondering, what's a Mormon? I could quote you a list of doctrinal descriptors and belief statements and direct you to the nearest missionary near you...but instead, Im going to do what I do best - and relay a waffly, possibly humorous, potentially offensive story from my salacious past.
Once upon a time, when I first started "dating" the Hot Man (as much as a young couple in Samoa could 'date'...) his mother was very happy. She said, "What a good choice! Mormon girls are good girls. Lani is a good girl!" She said this because Mormons (supposedly) do not have sex until they're married, don't drink alcohol, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't go to nightclubs, and don't wear revealing clothing. I will neither confirm nor deny at this time, if all those things were true of my nineteen year old self because my teenagers might read this blog and we all know how dedicated they are to seeking out evidence of their parent's misdemeanors so they can justify all of THEIR stupid choices... I will however say, that IF all those things were true of me, then, in her opinion, that made me a far superior choice compared to SOME of the girls her son had been going out with. (Naming no names...pointing no fingers...)
So yes, the Hot Man's mother was very happy we were dating. But then we got married. And a year or so later, the Hot Man decided to get baptized and become a Mormon. My mother-in-law wasn't so happy then. Especially when her son - much much later - became so committed to his faith that he went to the Mormon temple. She didn't like it one bit. "Don't you know that Mormons worship Satan? They don't believe in Jesus...they're a cult...they do strange sexual things inside those temples...there's a man wearing a horned mask talking to the Devil in there..." I guess she only liked nice Mormon girls when they dated her son. Not when they married him and took him over to the Dark Side of the Force.

Want to read the rest? Then you need to hop over to my new blog home by clicking on the link:
http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/mormons-are-satan-worshipers/