Bio: A ?recovering Californian,? Kristine K. Lowder was born and raised in San Diego. She earned a double major in Bible and Communication/Print Media cum laude from Biola University in 1982 and married The Big Guy in 1983. They have four sons, ages kindergarten through Clearasil.
A former aerospace professional with a background in marketing and public relations, Kristine now holds a real job as a professional mother and homeschooler. An award-winning author specializing in creative nonfiction and personal narrative, both serious and light-hearted, Kristine?s byline has appeared in numerous print publications including Whispers of Inspiration, Utmost, and Hearts at Home. Her work has been featured in more than 40 ezines including TheChristanOnlineMagazine.com, Whatever is Pure, SheLovesGod, Comfort Café, Blessings for Life, The Christian Woman, and Humor, and Life, in Particular. Kristine is also part of the devotional team for Inner Fulfillment, a publication of Emphasis on Moms.
When not reading or writing, Kristine enjoys hiking, swimming (except for the water part), tent camping with The Guys (except for the tent part), hanging out and/or eating pizza with friends, and doing almost anything other than laundry. She is deathly allergic to anything resembling Math. A sucker for sappy romances, Kristine also enjoys watching MacEddies with the Big Guy. (She admits to this last one only when threatened with the imminent demise of her private chocolate stash.) Her favorite quote these days is:
What no husband of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working
when she's staring out the window.
-- Rudolph Erich Rascoe
when new books by Kristine K. Lowder are released.
Ever look back on a long stretch of life's highway and wonder how you got where you are? I'm still trying to figure that out. More specifically, how did this Mom Stuff start? One minute I was a perfectly sane aerospace professional, gleefully juggling competitive analyses, customer profiles, marketing reports and NASA execs like a circus pro. Nine months later my rapier wit dulled to Jell-O, my spit and polish precision wilted like a wet Pampers. I could barely spell NASA, let alone find it! It ... more info>>