My name is Anna Mia Tesoro. Mia is fine. To begin, decades have passed since the 60s when hot dry Santa Ana winds whipped California’s chaparrals into torches. Those scorched times come clear now: murder, lust, money, obsession, a bevy of riddles. And remembering disturbs me still. Had I applied but one lesson of the ancient myths, it would have then made sense. It’s so simple. Obsession lives beyond reason. That’s how I see it now. I think on passing moments, for instance, when Sam cried “Colleen” in the throes of ecstasy. You’d wonder who she was. I did. Curiosity is glorious, not a crime, forward thinking when boys are described. Semantics, duplicity? Gods or mortals, we’re not so different. Pandora, you opened your gift, as I would have, a gift from those conniving gods. But their grins subsided when their plan backfired… on you and everyone thereafter, didn’t it? What evils came from that box are on them. And what jokes are played on us, still today. One thing is simple in hindsight, obsession lives beyond reason. That’s how I see it now. And yet, here we live millennia later in our turn to dodge those evils and to capture the wonder of the pursuit of happy lives, when times shed life-letting waters in promising directions. Sam and Nick, and me, encountered great forces at play — the Viet Nam War born of old-man fear, baptized in blood and greed sanctified in the name of big business. Opportunity, if you held on to it, carved it; and I remember women most of all, obsessed women, magical sisters; and magnificent men: lusty evil and playful as dogs. And loss and hope. There was that. We were ordinary people in an extraordinary time when we grappled with the introuvable. Did we learn how to live connected to every human being under the might of the wise old moon? Did we find answers to thwart greed, see good, understand love, war, death? Did we try? Or, as the ancients foretold, were we only the next generation of apathetic? You decide. We all die with a smile or not, but death didn’t end the trial or reveal the reason for the magic of joy or a plan to the pain. Not then. Not now. Is it as simple as the god’s ennui and idle quest for amusement? Here it is, my story for you to weigh. It is our journey, our places, our moments, and above all, this is what we did…

Hut on the Bay: ...those conniving gods

Quinn, I.A.

Literature & Fiction

Fountain Blue Publishing

My name is Anna Mia Tesoro. Mia is fine. To begin, decades have passed since the 60s when hot dry Santa Ana winds whipped California's chaparrals into torches. Those scorched times come clear now: murder, lust, money, obsession, a bevy of riddles. And remembering disturbs me still. Had I applied but one lesson of the ancient myths, it would have then made sense. It's so simple. Obsession lives beyond reason. That's how I see it now. I think on passing moments, for instance, when Sam cried "Colleen" in the throes of ecstasy. You'd wonder who she was. I did. Curiosity is glorious, not a crime, forward thinking when boys are described. Semantics, duplicity? Gods or mortals, we're not so different. Pandora, you opened your gift, as I would have, a gift from those conniving gods. But their grins subsided when their plan backfired... on you and everyone thereafter, didn't it? What evils came from that box are on them. And what jokes are played on us, still today. One thing is simple in hindsight, obsession lives beyond reason. That's how I see it now. And yet, here we live millennia later in our turn to dodge those evils and to capture the wonder of the pursuit of happy lives, when times shed life-letting waters in promising directions. Sam and Nick, and me, encountered great forces at play - the Viet Nam War born of old-man fear, baptized in blood and greed sanctified in the name of big business. Opportunity, if you held on to it, carved it; and I remember women most of all, obsessed women, magical sisters; and magnificent men: lusty evil and playful as dogs. And loss and hope. There was that. We were ordinary people in an extraordinary time when we grappled with the introuvable. Did we learn how to live connected to every human being under the might of the wise old moon? Did we find answers to thwart greed, see good, understand love, war, death? Did we try? Or, as the ancients foretold, were we only the next generation of apathetic? You decide. We all die with a smile or not, but death didn't end the trial or reveal the reason for the magic of joy or a plan to the pain. Not then. Not now. Is it as simple as the god's ennui and idle quest for amusement? Here it is, my story for you to weigh. It is our journey, our places, our moments, and above all, this is what we did...

Hut on the Bay

Infertility Inferschmility

I'm not diseased, therefore I'm not contagious. I'm not a mother, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to mother. I'm not jealous, so don't act like you have something worth being jealous over. I'm not broken, so please don't try to fix me. I'm just a girl who loves a boy. I'm just a girl who is excited to start a family. I'm just a girl who has a few things to say. I'm just a girl... who is dealing with infertility. We're on our 3rd round of IVF. We have been waiting since our miscarriage in February to get started. Currently, I am on birth control to get my body ready to produce lots and lots of eggs. I have no problems producing eggs. As my AMAZING Doctor once said “She puts my other patients to shame.” Maybe when people make condescending comments I should fire back “Please, you can only produce one egg a month. I can produce 20. Top that.” On June 9th, I will start Lupron injections. Lupron basically induces menopause. The goal is to stimulate my ovaries to produce a lot of eggs. What we don't want is for my body to naturally ovulate and release the eggs on its own. That's where Lupron comes in. It prevents my body from releasing the eggs. On June 25th (yes, my birthday and the one year anniversary of Michael Jackson's death) I will start Gonal-f injections. Gonal-f will be my friend for about 12 days. After that, it's egg retrieval and embryo transfer time. I'll explain all of this in detail as time goes on. Misconception #1: Infertile means Sterile. (This book takes you along with Aprill while she and her husband battle infertility. The facts, the joys, the disappointments, the treatments, the emotions, and the outcomes. You will cry. You will laugh. You will cheer. You may find answers. You will be amazed at the amount of information that is contained in this book.) It is time to clear the air!

Biographies & Memoirs

Lane, Aprill Fasino

Professionals & Academics

Teaching for What traces my turbulent career as an educator in Connecticut public, vocational and parochial schools, and how that experience drove me into depression and early retirement. It is also a somewhat scathing critique of the system of education, in general. The book begins with my student teaching days in a suburban public high school, and then follows my career, going forward, in an urban Catholic elementary school, a regional vocational high school, and, finally, a suburban public school. In between, it discusses my experiences, not only as a teacher, but as a Student Council Adviser, a baseball coach, a union president, and a social studies department chairman. The book explains my descent into depression, culminating in my ultimate recovery, which was achieved only when I decided to retire from the teaching profession. It is an emotional, brutally honest account of the day to day happenings in schools. Unfortunately, the traumatic experiences I had are all too common for many people in education. Because of that, even though the story is based in Connecticut, it should have wide-spread appeal to teachers, administrators, students and parents of student.

Teaching for What?

Fusco, Michael

Mia My best bell-bottom jeans slipped right on; on top a white long-sleeved shirt, and the worn high-heeled black boots had to do. Then lipstick, shadow, and a touch of blush and I was ready, but tired...thinking thinking. Nick, what now? You're the only man I love and you're gone but my love is not. I think of you only twice: when I'm awake and when I sleep. I will you to come back and apologize for dying and leaving me alone. To suffer existence without you is barely worth the knowing that there was once a boy like you. And, yes, it's unhealthy to dredge the memory of you, yearning and wishing for a miracle. But that's how it is. And I don't want to cry, Nick, and have to put on my face all over again. And I cried... and put my face on again. Sam "There's more, something else I've never told you. The twins were left alone all day and night, locked in their room, with the TV on, with no food. They used to climb out their window and go to Gracie's. Not once, Sam, often. Gracie and I talked, and she wanted me to decide what you needed to know." "Jesus Christ. When, Mom, why didn't you tell me right away?" "You were away, Sam, and I thought I could figure it out. She's threatened me and she meant it. I'm scared, son. They fight all the time, her and the boys, especially the twins. They love her, poor things, but they're afraid. She threatened to kill me if I told you."

Absence of Grace, ... those conniving Gods,

I.A. Quinn

Recently separated from a cheating husband, a pregnant Georgia leaves her home to spend a month with a childhood friend in Yukon Territory. Her stay takes an abrupt turn when she is kidnapped by bank robbers.  She escapes into a vast area of north western British Columbia, known as ‘the last frontier’. Against all odds, Georgia is forced to make decisions to endure the cold, harsh winter. Will she make the right choices to not only ensure her survival but that of her unborn child?

Winter's Captive (The Georgia Series)

Bourgo, June V.

Cooking on the Broken Road Farm

Boehm Lynch, Lauren

Cookbooks, Food & Wine

How hard would you be willing to fight, to fulfill your dreams? What would be your breaking point? Angela and Jason Vesely had a simple wish: to have a baby and start their family together. A common desire of most couples, but not always so easy for a growing number of the population. Their story of reaching a seemingly average goal is anything but typical. Were they able to conquer the extreme circumstances they faced on their unimaginable journey? This is the story of the Vesely’s battle for their son. An adoption agency and birth mother want to take back a 3-month old baby boy from a couple who wanted to give him a loving home after learning that the adoptive mother was pregnant. The 22-year old biological mother (who had signed away all parental rights) said that she wanted the parents who adopted her son to not have their own biological children. She wanted them to either raise her son as an only child or to adopt if they wanted to expand their family (Does she have the right to dictate these terms?). But Jason and Angela Vesely say they didn’t purposely hide Angela’s pregnancy when they applied to adopt two years prior; as this is an impossibility. They were guardedly optimistic about this pregnancy because Angela had miscarried three times before. They say they were never asked whether she was pregnant or not and were never told of the birth mothers wishes for no biological children. They loved their adopted son as if he was their own and an agency wanted to take him away. A court battle ensued.

Not What We Were Expecting

Vesely, Angela Dawn

Memoirs

Black Hearts

A poetic path through pain, confusion, and survival.

Breen Jr, William J

Poetry

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Books by Fountain Blue Publishing

See the best price to sell, buy or rent books by the Fountain Blue Publishing publisher. BookScouter helps to compare book prices from 25+ online bookstores and 30+ buyback vendors with a single search.

Hut on the Bay: ...those conniving gods

Hut on the Bay

Infertility Inferschmility

Infertility Inferschmility

Teaching for What?

Absence of Grace, ... those conniving Gods,

Winter's Captive (The Georgia Series)

Cooking on the Broken Road Farm

Not What We Were Expecting

Black Hearts