My Love Affair with Ikea

So, Austin finally got an Ikea, and I've been carrying the catalog around for two weeks, ogling the rooms they show (all that bright color, and all those books!) and wishing I could just move into the store. The whole Nordic look of it makes me want to redecorate my whole house in clean Scandinavian woods (right now it's a tad more traditional), with lots of clever little designer-y things on the walls. And cool, modern-looking lamps, of course.

But what I think I like the most about Ikea is that everything is bright and cheerful, unlike, say, just about every other housewares store on the planet right now.

Is it just me, or has brown been in for like six years now? Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against brown -- I mean, chocolate is brown, right? I just get a tad tired of it as the primary color in EVERY decorating scheme. I flipped through a Restoration Hardware catalog the other day... every page was brown or beige. Even the three that actually featured turquoise used brown as an accent color.

Whatever happened to the rest of the color spectrum?

Anyway, after poring through the Ikea catalog for weeks, admiring the non-brownness of it all and imagining I lived in an all-white living room with children whose hands never got dirty and who wouldn't think of spilling Kool-Aid on the fuzzy white rugs, I fell in love with some white and red cushion covers. So last weekend I went up to the store in search of them. And what did I find?

Bolts of fabric. That I'm supposed to use to SEW said cushion covers.

Yeah, right.

So, new cushion covers aren't in my immediate future. But I DID find some nice, white, inexpensive dishes to replace my old, chipped, extremely depleted dish collection. Hooray!

Anyway, I still love Ikea -- the white backgrounds, the bright colors, the light woods, the almost complete lack of brown. And I still love fantasizing about living in a modern white apartment with lots of bright colors, and everything neatly organized on the fabulous shelves. I adore Ikea, I do.

But couldn't they at least make the cushion covers for me?

Till the landslide brought me down...

Okay, bonus points if you recognize the source of today's blog title. It's very apropos, I believe, because I am currently digging my way through the landslide of holiday leftovers. Digging? Eating.

Eating being just part of the conspicuous consumption that currently grips me. What IS it about this time of year?

Anyway, since all my organizational skills are directed towards such burning issues as...the green gift wrap or the gold? Do I buy that incredible English toffee this year or do I limit myself to the five pounds of Sees I bought for Thanksgiving?

Who has time to blog with that sort of decision-making yet to be done?

But, obsessive-compulsive though I may be, I am not so far gone that I am not thinking about writing--I'm ALWAYS thinking about writing. And, it follows, publishing. But does it follow?

It's so easy to get caught up in the panic over how many books you're writing versus how many are being published--not to mention quandries over writing that Breakout Book--and then there's the anxiety attacks over which series to promote and finding a new agent and blah, blah, blah. All of these things being...yes, vitally important. But it's equally important not to lose focus of the writing itself--the art and the craft of language and story-telling: the reason you wanted to "become a writer" in the first place!

So I thought I'd share with you--especially those of you not yet published--one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets, Archibald MacLeish. I think this says a great deal about writing--and publishing in particular. Actually it says a lot about all art and all artists. See if you agree.



THE SNOWFLAKE WHICH IS NOW AND HENCE FOREVER

Will it last? he says.
Is it a masterpiece?
Will generation after generation
Turn with reverence to the page?

Birdseye scholar of the frozen fish,
What would he make of the sole, clean, clear
Leap of the salmon that has disappeared?

To be, yes!--whether they like it or not!
But not to last when leap and water are forgotten,
A plank of standard pinkness in the dish.

They also live
Who swerve and vanish in the river.

Switching Gears

We writers have to switch gears a lot. It comes with the territory. We may be writing book #3 of a 3-book contract, revising book #2, and promoting book #1---all at the same time. I know I did, back in May 2005, right before KNIT ONE, KILL TWO came out. Whew!

We do it because it's part of this fascinating, wonderful, frustrating and thoroughly-satisfying career we've gotten ourselves into---writing murder mystery novels.

Last week I finished the revisions on book #4 of the knitting mysteries due out next May, A KILLER STITCH. I'd promised them by Thanksgiving. And now that the Thanksgiving break is over, I'm back in the saddle again---back to work on book #5 which is due next spring. So, I'm looking forward to squirrelling away and burrowing into "writing mode" once more. My favorite thing.

Oh---and how did I spend Thanksgiving break? I relaxed. How? Well, I made lots of my chocolate mint fudge recipe for presents (which I do every year). And----and----I went shopping. Yep. Right in there with all the crazed and non-crazed shoppers. And I had a great, fun, and, believe it or not---a relaxing time. At least it was for me.

I drank lattes and visited stores, finding things on my long lists, chatting with people, and smiling all the while. I was just SO glad to get out of my house and away from the computer, even the holiday Black Friday shopping rush looked like fun to me. And---I got it all done. Yep. Every present bought. Took me three days of lattes and looking, but it's done.

So now, I get to write and enjoy the holidays and the music and the decorating and the music and more cooking and the music. . .oh, and did I mention the music? Enjoy the season, folks.

Holiday Offering for Readers!

Hi Everyone!

I hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I am very pleased to announce something that all of us Chicks came up with and want to offer to our readers. I think it's a cool idea, and we hope you will, too!

First of all, the Cozy Chicks want to welcome you into our worlds! We’re grateful that you’re here following our lives on a personal note and our characters’ lives in our various books. To show our gratitude to you and because the season of giving is officially here we want to give you an opportunity to receive holiday baskets that include signed copies of our books! That’s right! Seven books by the Cozy Chicks!

We will be conducting a random drawing of twenty-five winners, to be announced on December 20th. Along with seven books from The Cozy Chicks, winners will also receive discussion questions that go along with each book. The intention here is for you as a winner/reader to spread the word to your book club(s) or to start up a book club. This will provide you with seven months worth of books to read and discuss! By running a Cozy Chicks book club you’ll receive added benefits such as recipe cards, bookmarks, and be the first to know when a new book is being released. We will also continue to change up discussion questions and send out recommendations of other great mysteries to check out.

Also, as an additional bonus, we would like to give you the opportunity to have us join you at your club. For example, if you’re reading one of Maggie Sefton’s books for the month of April, you can either 1. Have a personal visit to the club space, if your club is local 2. Have a phone with a speaker on it, so she can call in, or 3. Set up a web-cast where you can have ongoing dialogue with Maggie for the duration of the meeting where you can ask her questions about the book and her life as a writer. How many book clubs can say they’ve actually had the chance to pick the author’s brains? Now you and your club will have seven opportunities to do so!

We hope you get as excited about this offer as we are to bring it to you. Please take some time to visit all of our websites and check out our latest releases. Thank you and good luck at being one of the first twenty-five winners to receive seven books by the Cozy Chicks and run a Cozy Chicks Book Club.

To enter for the drawing, check out our new website (thank you, J.B) at www.cozychicks.com and enter on the contest page. Now the website is not quite finished yet, but J.B. is working hard on it, so be patient if it takes a few days before you can enter the contest. However, please keep checking back.

Cheers and Happy Holidays!

The Cozy Chicks: Laura, Diana, Karen, Michele, Maggie, Jennifer and Heather

Have toddler, will travel!

I have to admit that I love the traditions of Thanksgiving. The cooking, the eating, the napping. I'm just not to crazy about the traveling part anymore.

It used to be no sweat. In college I would throw my laundry in the car and off I'd go. No need to pack when I'd be sure to find everything I'd need once the clothes were clean. Thankfully, I got more particular as I aged but a trip of six hours from D.C. to my parents' home in North Carolina still didn't warrant more than a small suitcase and a few favorite CDs.

As my work became more demanding, my laptop and some client files joined the trek. Then, occasionally, a manuscript to be reviewed. Still, I could pack in less than an hour and be on my way. That was before I had a toddler.

Surely Dante had made a mistake, I thought. Six hours on the highway in holiday traffic with a sixteen-month-old must be one of the levels of hell.

My husband and I did some rudimentary calculations. Even if the gods shined upon us and she napped for two hours (did I mention that she's recently abandoned napping?), we'd have four long hours to fill. Since she has the attention span of a fruit fly, we would have to pack every toy she owned and hope we passed a few Toys R Us stores along the way.

The little devil on my shoulder reminded me that there was an alternative to hitching a trailer full of toys to our car. I tried to ignore the persistant whisper of portable DVD player in my ear. My little angel hadn't watched a single Barney video or mindless cartoon. I had to fight the temptation! Surely we could amuse her with educational toys the entire ride down.

The day before we left, I realized the depth of my insanity. Every good wedding planner has a back-up plan. We needed a back-up plan. Having it didn't mean we had to use it, I reasoned to myself. My husband rushed out to find a portable DVD player with all the proper car accessories. Just in case.

He went ahead and mounted it to the back of the head rest in front of her car seat. Just in case. I assembled a stack of Disney classic movies within arm's reach. Just in case. We lasted half an hour into the trip before running out of toys and firing up "Madagascar." Just in time.

Any moms out there with tips for keeping your sanity while traveling with toddlers?

Black Friday

Yesterday was Black Friday. Historically, retailers who were in the red for the entire year could look forward to showing a profit beginning with the Friday after Thanksgiving. This put them in ‘the black.’ Black also refers to the chaotic shopping frenzy and the crush of crowds that elevates stress levels.

On this Black Friday, thousands of people here in Richmond lined up outside of retail stores between three and five in the morning. These lines were long and apparently folks in nearby Roanoke hadn’t had enough coffee. Thousands had lined up in front of a Best Buy and when the doors were opened, some people in the back of the line tried to cut in front. Punches were exchanged and violence erupted. One of the employees a kid of 17 – said he worked from 4 a.m. until 9 p.m. and was often asked to deal with “skippers” at the front door. This kid sounded incredibly stressed by the experience and wondered why he had been hired to install car stereos and then was asked to somehow police shoppers’ behavior.

So now I could go on a rant about commercialism and rude behavior right after Thanksgiving, but you get the picture so I’m not going to lecture. I love this season too much to taint it with sordid retail stories. Both my kids are sick and we spent yesterday putting up the “kid” Christmas tree, which bears our silly ornaments such as a roaring Godzilla and a gingerbread cookie cat dipped in shellac. We took a walk, kicked some leaves, and ate more pumpkin pie and cookies.

I did review my Christmas list and wondered what Black Friday super sales I might be missing. I confess that I do love to shop in the midst of the high-energy week – but I consider that to be the week before the actual holiday. I think people are downright jolly during that week. They exchange smiles and satisfied nods to other shoppers and seem to truly enjoy circling the parking lot and waiting in long lines to be rung up. I know I do. After all, your family is about to draw together, you’re going to share a fabulous meal sit in front of the fire, and experience a little bit of magic. But it’s often hard to find the right blend of Christmas capitalism (sounds like a new Starbucks flavor).

Did any of you brave the crowds yesterday and if so, was it wroth it?

Thankful

There are so, so, so many things to be thankful this year, but thought I’d blog about just one of them today.

Last week, I had an amazing book signing. Was it at a book store?

Nope.

It was at Grandma’s Garden Center in Waynesville, Ohio.

That’s right, a garden center. Perfect for my books since my protagonist is a landscape designer.

This particular night at Grandma’s was Girlfriends’ Night Out. The entire center was decked out in breathtaking holiday splendor. In the main house/gift shop, Grandma’s offered–absolutely free of charge—assorted goodies, including a chocolate fountain, chocolate martinis, cookies, meatballs and lots of other appetizers. Did I mention chocolate?

I was set up at a lovely wrought iron table in one of the outbuildings, a cross between a barn and a greenhouse. Out there Grandma’s offered—free of charge—massages from specialists from a nearby spa and salon; door prizes; and lessons on tying those finagled Christmas bows. Plus, chocolate. Plus a chance to meet moi.

Everywhere I looked there were twinkling lights, amazing ribbons, adorable holiday décor. I took this picture using my camera phone (no flash), which explains the fuzziness, but you can kind of see my signing table surrounded by all the Christmas trees. I wish you could see all how all the trees were decorated, but it’s a phone not a camera.

I have to say, it was one of my favorite signings ever. Not because of how many books I sold, but because, really, it was fun. So, thanks, Grandma's! Hopefully I'll be a part of this event again next year. And since it is girlfriends’ night out, maybe I should bring a few friends with me. Any takers?

~heather

OVER THE RIVER AND THRU THE WOODS

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Even though no presents are involved--unless you count the gift that you give when you allow yourself time to stop and reflect on all the things you have to be grateful for.

I have two sisters (something to be thankful for, right there) and we generally "share" the holidays. I take Thanksgiving, Laura takes Christmas, and Pam does the honors on Easter. This has become a tradition within our family, and I think that is one of the things I love most about Thanksgiving. It is a holiday redolent with tradition--still mostly untainted by the commercialism of Christmas.

We've each developed our own traditions for our holiday presentations. I do a Martha Stewart-inspired dinner: herb-roasted turkey, cheese and bacon potatos, Marie Callendar pies. I love to experiment with the wines for the Thanksgiving meal: always California reds and always a mix of tried and true favorites (Rodney Strong, Clos du Bois) and something brand new to us (this year Conn Creek, Chateau Souverain and Sterling Vineyard). Candles, fresh flowers and foil-wrapped chocolates scattered down the table. Ideally the weather is chilly enough for a fire in the fireplace, although this year looks to be sunny and warm.

Anyway, those are the little details. The real tradition is spending this long and lovely day with family--the kids playing upstairs in the library (forming future memories of holidays at Auntie Di's) and the long, gently inebriated discussions that evolve almost always into happy recolletions of childhood holidays and those who are no longer with us.

In the recent past Thanksgiving as a holiday has fallen out of favor with some. There are those who dislike it for religious reasons and those who dislike it for political reasons, and that's certainly their right. But I think if you consider the point of Thanksgiving--never mind whether the Pilgrims were good or evil or ecologically-minded--I think most of us will agree that we spend too little time in our busy lives simply taking a few moments to reflect on what we have to be grateful for and to give thanks for those gifts.

So, regardless of your faith or your political affiliation, may I suggest that of all the traditions that we form throughout our lives, one of the most valuable is that of learning to focus on what is good and right in our world--and taking a moment to be thankful for it.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

At the Movies

I am finishing up revisions for A KILLER STITCH, due out next May, and spent last week and weekend inside working. Being inside all day tends to make me antsy, so at nights, I did the best thing I could do to relax, unwind, and nourish the storyteller within. I went to the movies.

I love movies, always have. I use the movies to unwind and re-fill the well. For a novelist, nothing beats watching other writers' stories unfold before our eyes. Not only are movies enjoyable, they're also educational---especially for novelists. The three-act structure of modern screenwriting is classic, and the guideline for tight, forward-moving plots. I don't care how weird or "out there" a movie is, I can always learn something about storytelling from each one. So when I'm relaxing, I'm also learning from other craftsmen and how they tell their stories.

Some of the weird mix I've sampled lately:

1) Babel, w/Brad Pitt. Four seemingly unrelated storylines all tied into each other through one plot device. A rifle given by one man to another, and how that gift dramatically altered four families lives.
2) Martin Scorcese's The Departed. DiCaprio, Damon, are both secret "rats" unknown to each other. One's with the Boston cops and one's with the Boston mob. Excellent plot twists.
3) Running with Scissors. Bizarre and funny and sad all at the same time. Excellent performance by Annette Bening, maybe Oscar-worthy.
4) Flags of our Fathers. Patriotic. Kind of disappointing, though.
5) The Prestige. Story of two competing magicians, Hugh Jackman always fun to watch.
And that's just the last ten days. Yes, I've needed to refill the well a lot.

But strictly drama can get wearing after a while, so I'm looking forward to some fun this week with, what else? Happy Feet on Turkey Day. Previews are funny. And----I can't resist---Borat. The guy is crazy. Should be laugh out loud funny. Also, looking forward to Stranger than Fiction. Hey, how can we resist a novelist's character coming to life. Scary thought.

Oh, and then there's the new, improved Bond in Casino Royale. Actually, I think I'll like this Bond a lot better than the others. It was never the same after Sean Connery. Pretty boys don't do it for me, I guess. This Bond looks infinitely more appealing as a character. I'll check in after I check him out.

What movies have you guys seen recently?

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving week! Love it! Love the turkey, love the mashed potatoes, stuffing, Grandma's Jell-O, and especially the sweet potatoes--Mhhhm--my favorite! And, I have plenty to be thankful for for this Thanksgiving that I wuld like to share.

First off--I want to thank Deb for doing my blog last week, and I want to thank the other Cozy Chicks for all of their support. Our middle son who is twelve has a syndrome called Cyclic Vomitting Syndrome, also known as stomach migraines. It's not fun. There are various triggers that can set his cycle in motion including caffiene, msg, processed foods, emotional stress, illness, etc. Once he starts vomitting, he typically can't stop. I have begun to understand that your stomach is your second brain. My son's stomach has been rewired so that when he has a trigger he begins the vomitting and severe headaches follow. The doctors believe it is associated to maternal migraines (yep--I get them). The way to stop the cycle is through IV meds and total rest--no foods or liquids and a hospital stay. He can only go home after he can keep down solids for a day. Thus--the long week last weekend. I am grateful though that the doctors know what needs to be done to break the cycle, and even happier to tell you that my little boy is much better again! So--yes, long week last week, but am thankful he is home, happy and relatively heatlthy!

Through the midst of all of that I had two books due--one with a final pass read and the other one to turn in. I was four days late turning in the final pass and even later with the manuscript, which I finished last night! Let me tell you--I am thankful to have both books in before the holiday!

And, I am thankful for all the normal things to be thankful for--family, friends, health, cats (LOL), home, food, clothes, Target & Costco, you know all the necessities. I am also extremely thankful for the Cozy Chicks. Yes, I am going to get all mushy on you. Sorry. Not all of us have met personally and most of us have only met once or twice, but we came together with this common thread of being mystery writers, and developed this group for our readers and other writers. I've found that although we came together as writers, that we've formed friendships. Last week each one of the women on this group was there for me. They e-mailed me, said prayers for me, and I knew that if I needed anything at all, all I had to do was ask. For me being a part of this group is in a way spiritual. That may sound strange, but I have found this blog to be a place of fellowship. Writing is spiritual in nature, even if it's not high brow literature. It's a part of the writer of who we are as people and we thrive off of it. I know when I don't write my spirits are low and I crave getting "the story" out. The Cozy Chicks blog and the women who work on it, and the readers who respond to it, are an extension of this soul growth for me. So, I know we won't be seated together around the Thanksgiving table when we say our thanks, but from me to you I wanted you to know that I am thankful for the support, the care and the joint efforts, as well as the growth we share in our writing and in our friendships. What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving?

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!!

Michele

A Dose of Wedding Gratitude

I know I have a lot to be grateful for but every once in a while something happens that smacks me in the forehead and makes realize just how blessed I am (and makes me feel guilty for those moments when I dwell on what I don’t have). Yesterday was on of those days.

When I started working with the bride who got married yesterday, she told me that the groom’s mother had recently passed away after a very sudden and quick bout with cancer. Now I’ve seen lots of brides who would have secretly found losing their mother-in-law a blessing, but this bride had been dear friends with her fiancé’s mother. As a matter of fact, the bride and groom had been high school sweethearts and their families have been friends for ages. The loss of the groom’s mother had clearly been devastating for all of them.

The bride is one of the happiest, kindest and most thoughtful girls I’ve ever worked with. She is about five foot nothing and radiates so much energy and joy that she practically vibrates. I looked forward to meetings with her and was really having so much fun planning her wedding. Only a few months into her engagement, the bride was diagnosed with MS. I couldn’t help but wonder why bad things happened to good people, but she didn’t seem to be thinking this. She took her diagnosis in stride and would even call me in a great mood during her all-day IV treatments to go over wedding details. She told me that her diagnosis had brought her and her fiancé even closer. Talk about seeing the glass half full! My admiration grew for both of them.

Even as she started feeling more symptoms of the MS as the wedding neared, her focus stayed on other people. She knew how hard the wedding would be on her fiancé because of his mother’s absence so we worked together on ways to make sure that the mother’s presence was seen and felt throughout the wedding. The groom’s mother loved dogwood, so we brought in dogwood trees to have at the entrance to the ceremony aisle and had dogwood blossoms pictured in the programs. We planned a special candle lighting ceremony by her two young nephews right before the processional and the candle was to burn with them under the chuppah throughout the ceremony.

The bride also planned her wedding to be focused on family. Unlike nearly all of the weddings I see today, both sets of parents had been happily married for over thirty years and the families were huge and very close-knit. Pictures of all the parents and grandparents on their wedding days were placed on a table at the entrance to the museum with a sign that read “It begins and ends with family.”

Instead of a refined “adults only” reception, the wedding was brimming with children of all ages (not to mention four flower girls and a slightly hyperactive ring bearer). There is nothing quite like the awe on a little girl’s face when she looks at a bride or the contagious joy of children dancing on the dance floor. It was wonderful to see the reactions of the children when they walked into the grand museum with dramatically up lit columns and a breathtaking chuppah covered in masses of orange, red and gold flowers. To be honest, seeing the wedding through their eyes made me feel a little jaded.

Throughout the wedding day, the bride took the inevitable little glitches in stride. She laughed off the smudge of lipstick on her dress (which we did manage to get out) and her father’s forgotten cufflinks. Rarely have I seen a happier bride, and the moment when she and the groom saw each other for the first time had even a war-weary wedding veteran like me tearing up.

This was one couple who had every right to think “Why me?” They certainly had gone through more hardships in one year than some people do in their entire lives. No one would have blamed them for being bitter and demanding, but they were both the absolute opposite. They were perhaps the kindest, happiest, most easy-going and truly joyful couple I’ve ever worked with. I can’t count the number of times they thanked me and everyone working on the wedding (and, of course, everyone went above and beyond to make the day perfect them because of it).

Lots of brides and grooms could take lessons from them. They weren’t obsessed with themselves and the emotional and physical pain they were going through. Each one was more concerned for the other person than for them self and they were always thinking of how their families and guests were doing. I know that watching them was a lesson for me. A reminder to be grateful for everything I have and not spend time dwelling on the parts of life that might not be perfect. There is immense power in positive thinking and I’m grateful that I met this bride and groom to be reminded of it.

The Great Pumpkin

(Sorry to post a day early, but I'm going to be away from the computer this weekend!)

The recent recipes posted on this blog inspired me to write about food. No, I didn’t cook anything fancy, but I thought about it. In fact, images of sweet delicacies danced before my eyes until I realized it’s pumpkin season! My favorite baking time of year. Why? Because I love anything made of pumpkin. Breads, muffins, pies, cakes, crisps, cookies, cheesecakes…I’ll eat it all.

Pumpkin doesn’t seem to be a man’s dessert. Most of the men in my family prefer chocolate mousse or apple cobbler over something made of pumpkin. So, it fell to my mother and I to polish off the homemade pumpkin pies we made at this time of year. That really wasn’t a problem.

Over the years, I’ve been experimenting with new pumpkin recipes. Some have only been so-so, but some have been worth passing on. This week, I made pumpkin cheesecake tarts and they were delicious. I’m going to post this so you have an alternative to pumpkin pie this Thanksgiving. It also serves 12, so you get a bit more out of one dish. Combine these with a pecan pie and some vanilla ice cream and you’re all set.

Pumpkin Gingersnap Cheesecake Tartlets

Ingredients:

• 2/3 cup (about 15) crushed gingersnap cookies (I use actual ginger cookies as they’re less likely to be stale)
• 2 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1 package (8 oz.) cream cheese, softened
• 1 cup LIBBY'S Pure Pumpkin
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (if you don’t have this, use some nutmeg and cinnamon instead)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons melted chocolate

Prep

Preheat oven to 325. Line 12 muffin pan with paper cups. COMBINE cookie crumbs and butter in small bowl. Press scant tablespoon onto bottom of each of prepared muffin cups. Bake for 5 minutes. BEAT cream cheese, pumpkin, sugar, pumpkin pie spice and vanilla extract in small mixer bowl until blended. Add eggs; beat well. Pour into muffin cups, filling nearly full. BAKE for 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in pan on wire rack. Remove tarts from pan; refrigerate. Drizzle melted chocolate over tartlets.

Enjoy!

Do you have any favorite uses for the mightiest gourd on earth?

The Most Riveting Show on TV

As most of you know, I’m a reality TV junkie. Maybe I’m a voyeur at heart, but I love the glimpse into different lifestyles, personalities, relationships. Usually I don’t foist my shows on other people, but I’ve found a show I think everyone should watch.

Is it reality? Yes, but don’t let that deter you.

It has love, murder, betrayal. This family fights with each other, attacks neighbors, and even kicks wayward kids out of the family.

Intriguing, right?

The show is Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet.

Yes, meerkats! Who knew?

The matriarch of the family is Flower, and she runs the Whisker family (about 40 of them) with an iron paw. She has oodles of kids, from babies to adults, and keeps a close eye on them all when they forage for food in the Kalahari Desert and keep watch out for other gangs of meerkats who’d like nothing more than to take over the Whiskers’ territory. Every once in a while, there’s a war between the gangs and it’s not pretty. Though, thankfully, the show is G-rated and nothing gory is to be seen. Narrator Sean Astin does a great job of getting the point across without bringing me to tears. Well, often. There was the time Blossom, one of Flower’s babies, wandered off into the deep brush, got lost, and was never seen again. Sniff.

This season’s cliffhanger? Mozart, one of Blossom’s older daughters who had previously snuck off and had a rendezvous with a male meerkat from another gang (the drama!) and found herself in the family way, was abandoned by her family and left to raise her pups on her own. She had to leave the wee ones in the burrow while she foraged, and an enemy gang, The Commandos, attacked. The babies didn’t make it.

Double sniff!

But Mozart is now close to her family’s new burrow. Will they take her back into the tribe?

Riveting, right?

Look for repeats on Animal Planet and be sure to tune in next season to see how Mozart fares. I know I’m going to have the tissues handy.

~heather

Thursday, schmursday. (And my wooden stake incident.)

Okay, this post say it was posted on Thursday, but I have a confession to make.

It's currently Friday afternoon, and I only figured out it was Friday two hours ago, when they sent my son home with a week's worth of classwork.

Duh.

And I've been planning this post since Monday!

Oh, well. Here goes.

As many of you know, I'm currently nearing the finish line on my first Sophie Garou book, for which I'd better come up with a good title soon. (I can't use my working title, unfortunately.) And since Sophie is a werewolf, I've been reading all the other great paranormal authors out there (their work is paranormal, by the way -- as far as I know, none of the authors are). You probably know them already. Mary Janice Davidson, Charlaine Harris... they're fabulous storytellers, and you just fall into their worlds. I also, coincidentally, picked up Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian, which I didn't realize was about Dracula until I bought it. And thank goodness I picked it up, because it's a fabulous book.

And of course, in the midst of all this reading, I've been writing about werewolves five days a week.

So it's been all paranormal all the time at the MacInerney household for the last few weeks. But I didn't think much of it until I went for a walk on Tuesday, and ran across the remains of a campaign sign lying on the side of the trail.

My first thought -- and I wish I was kidding -- was "Oh, look, a wooden stake."

My second thought? "Gee, it's not very sharp."

Which is a bit worrying, really, and makes think it's time to branch out a bit. But not yet... I'm three days away from those magic two words -- THE END -- and already thinking about what to do next...

Anyone else love dreaming about future projects as much as I do?

And anyone else confuse campaign signs with wooden stakes?

TELL ME ANOTHER ONE

One of the downsides of "being a writer" is how little time left there is for reading. Most of us started writing because we loved reading--we loved reading so much that we wanted to become part of the process. Either that or we were sick of not being able to find the kind of books we loved to read.

I admit it was a little bit of both with me.

To say that I love to read really doesn't do justice to my addiction. I have bookshelves in every room of my house (okay, no, not in that room, but a magazine rack is pretty darned close). I could open my own little used book store and stock it with the boxes and boxes of books in the garage--and those are the books that need sorting. The ones I'm not totally sure I need to keep so they're relegated to the dungeon along with the washing machine and the castle cat.

But never mind my ineffective housekeeping or garage-keeping, what I planned to blog about today is my solution for having no time to read: audio books.

I have a lengthy drive to and from the good old day job, and while it is a beautiful scenic drive--with lots of deer and maniac drivers to keep me interested and alert--I do feel that it is time wasted. Or rather, that it could be time better occupied, and since I can't quite picture myself reciting my latest plot development into a little tape recorder, I do the next best thing, which is listen to other people's plot developments.

Not that audio books can replace real books--meaning I love the feel, the smell, the taste--okay, maybe not the taste, I'm not actually chewing the covers--well, maybe the really suspenseful ones--of books. I love new books. And old books. Dell mapbacks in particular. Vintage mystery. I love picture books and travel books and art books and...anyway, I see audio books as a supplement to paper books.

What I like to do is try out books I might not otherwise sample. For some reason I'm more patient with a book when it's being read aloud to me. I'm not sure why that is, why it seems like less "work" when someone else is turning the pages. Anyway, I've discovered a number of writers through audio books--Donald Westlake, Rex Stout, M.C. Beaton. I listened to The Da Vinci Code as an audio book (and enjoyed it hugely). I also listened to Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory (and nearly ran the car off the road at that ridiculous ending).

This morning I was listening to Steven Bochco's Death by Hollywood and enjoying it very much. The drive flew by and it's always instructive seeing how different writers handle different plot elements. Next week I've got Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey scheduled. See, I'm not merely amusing myself, I'm improving my mind and scoping out the competition.

In audio books, the narrator/reader becomes vital. I have a number of tapes with Kathleen Turner reading Elizabeth Peter's Vicky Bliss novels--I love Kathleen Turner's voice, but unfortunately I cannot forget for even a moment that it's Kathleen Turner reading these novels, and it messes with the suspension of my bridge of disbelief. If you know what I mean.

On the whole I prefer the audio books where the reader just reads. I find the switching of voices distracting--although I did enjoy THE EGYPTOLOGIST--and the full-on dramatization is too much like a radio show. Not that I don't enjoy radio shows, but it's a bit different. Much of my listening to books time is spent analyzing what I'm listening to as well as enjoying it, so I don't really want to hear people rapping on doors or shaking sheets of aluminum thunder. I want to consider the way the words are used, how they flow.

What about you? Do you listen to audio books? Do you have favorites?

Back on the Straight and Narrow

I'm back, I think. At least, I'm trying to get there. This trip took longer to recup from than any other, probably because it was longer. But, I'm back, and after losing more sleep to election night news coverage, I'm trying to get back to work too.

And--at the same time--I'm trying to get back on the Straight and Narrow, as I call it, otherwise known as "eating right and working out." It's amazing. What is it about traveling that throws such a wrench into my discipline?

When I'm here at home in my regular routine, there's no problem. I get up in the morning, make a cup of tea (sometimes green), pull on my workout clothes, grab the paper, and head to the health club/gym. None of us Early Morning workers care what we're wearing or what we look like. We just go in and do our stuff, no matter how bad we look. We're there to work and sweat. We'll throw ourselves into the shower at home and get prettied up later.

Every morning, like clockwork. I've been working out since the late 70's. It's the only way I can stay in shape. And over the years, it's DEFINITELY the only way I can keep Fat from taking over. That and eating right, of course.

Knowing all that---why then do I TOTALLY ABANDON ALL DISCIPLINE WHEN I'M ON THE ROAD. Sheesh! I eat all the wrong things---fattening sweets, too much this and too much of that, oh, and let's have some of the yummy dessert over there...... What's up with that?

Some places it's easier. Believe it or not, it's easy in New York City. When I'm visiting my daughter, Melissa, there's never a problem. True, we're eating in cafes at night and having martinis, but I'm also walking, walking, walking mucho blocks all over the city all day. Guaranteed workout.

But other locations, like the suburbs, I forget. Ohhhh, sometimes, I'll remember and pull on my sneakers and workout clothes and run outside, but other times-----I don't. I sit and have another cup of coffee and talk with old friends or family. Then, I have to run off for an appointment. And the day disappears like that.

It's also no problem when I'm in hotels, now that most of them have fitness rooms or something like that. Easy to start the day with a workout like I do at home.

What the heck happens when I'm in the suburbs with old friends or family? Anybody else notice this? Please don't tell me I'm the only one. Any suggestions? Please.

Trouble with Posting

Apologies to anyone who tried to "View" my last post, dated 11/14/06. It doesn't open. The only way to see it is to click on the title line itself, but you can't make comments.

I discovered it last night and posted twice then deleted one. When I tried the remaining post, it, too, showed unavailability.

I noticed the blog site was running slowly, so I hoped whatever was wrong would fix itself overnight. Like magic, maybe. Anyway, I just checked and nope....my 11/14/06 post still wouldn't open under "View."

So I re-posted it just a few minutes ago, and darned if it didn't do the same dumb thing. "Unavailable." You can only read it by clicking on title. Hence, this additional post to everyone.

What's up with this? I can click on everyone else's posts. How do we fix this? ---Maggie

RESEARCH, ME SEARCH

NOTE FROM KAREN: Michele has had a heck of a weekend -- more on that later. Thank goodness we know so many stellar authors, though! The following post is by guest blogger and author extraordinaire Deb Baker. (She's got two great series going; I urge you to check them out!) And now, I'll pass this post on to Deb...

_________

I made my protagonist, Gretchen Birch, a hiker—mountain climber specifically. Not the kind that clings from the sides of mountains, but still a rugged, steep trail, stand-at-the-top type of woman.

Why? Why did I do that?

Does some part of me wish I was just a bit more athletic and daring?

Gretchen’s thirty, I’m fifty-three. I should have remembered that.

Squaw Peak’s Summit Trail spikes skyward from central Phoenix. I watched kids start the climb. Parents with not-so-small toddlers in backpacks worked their way up. An elderly woman with a cane passed me as I stood at the trailhead watching them go.

How hard could it be?

It was high noon but I had my water bottle and sturdy shoes.

My thick Midwestern blood ran a little warm in this eighty-eight degree heat with no trees in sight for cover. Skinny weedy shrubs, jutting rocks, not a wild creature in sight.

I started up.

The steps, if you can call them steps, wound zip-zap across the steep incline. The heat beat down.
I slugged most of my water, determined to see the top.

Two kids hopped down the rocks toward me. When I asked them if I was near the summit, or at least halfway, they laughed. “Not even close,” they dueted.

That was my first clue. The second clue that I wasn’t going to make it came in the form of a mileage marker. Point two-five miles. A quarter of a mile in a one point two mile trail.

I could do the math. How embarrassing.

Still, a tiny part of me wanted to continue, wanted to make it.

Later, I sat down on the rocks without managing to crawl to the half-mile marker. My water was gone and so was my enthusiasm.

I should be sipping wine and knitting a new sweater at a bed and breakfast instead of withering to dust under this relentless sun on a rocky outcropping.

So I did the next best thing. If my middle aged body was guaranteed to fail, I still had my creative mind. I didn’t have to experience everything Gretchen Birch accomplished.

I could sit right here with my notebook and pretend.

A little girl came down.

“What’s does it feel like at the top?” I asked her.

“Like I’m the most important thing in the world,” she replied without a moment of hesitation.

“Last time I was here, I saw a roadrunner at the top,” the guy with the kid in the backpack said. “Amazing. I didn’t know they went all the way up there.”

“Looks like you aren’t going to make it to the top, Deary,” said the old woman with the cane. “You’ll do it tomorrow though.”

Fat chance.

Maybe all my dreams weren’t meant to come true. This one, this time, I’ll leave to my imagination. Go, Gretchen.

A Day Off?

The wedding planner finally got a Saturday off! No nervous brides calling at 8 am, no lost florists, no drunk uncles to put in cabs at midnight. Just a whole delicious Saturday to spend doing anything but wedding work. And since my husband the wedding photographer was also wedding-free this weekend, we had a rare Saturday together. The idea of a whole weekend at home made us almost delirious!

What to do? We looked outside the window. The weather was perfect, an almost summery day in November. It really was too beautiful to stay inside and just lay around. We should take a walk, we said! So off we went, baby in the jogging stroller, for a brisk stroll around the neighborhood. We never did this the morning of a wedding because we knew that we'd be running around so much all day long. We were finally one of those couples with the stroller and the dog (we borrowed the neighbor's dog).

We got home energized and excited. What to do next? It looked like our neighbors were all outside doing some sort of gardening. Our yard did need some serious work and what better way to spend a Saturday in the suburbs? We threw on jeans (my sixteen-month-old daughter looked cutest in hers) and proceeded to cut back all the plants and pull up the profusion of weeds that had taken root during the wedding season neglect. My daughter mostly waved the weeds in the air, but she certainly got into the spirit of the day.

When my husband saw the neighbors hanging up a new birdhouse he remembered the one we'd bought months ago and never painted. Out came the newspapers, paints and bare birdhouse. I took a break from gardening (man, my back was sore) to throw in the laundry. I noticed my bags of winter sweaters sitting in the laundry room and decided that there was no time like the present to go through them all. Once I had finished the sweaters, I remembered that my closet needed a little weeding, too. An hour or so later, I had new piles for Goodwill and the attic and a much roomier closet.

When I looked outside again, the red, white and blue birdhouse was hanging to dry and my husband had a leaf blower strapped to his back. He was blowing all the leaves into piles while my daughter chased him. I had to get the camera. After an impromptu photo session in the backyard, we bagged up the piles of leaves and set them out on the curb.

I looked at my watch. It was almost time for dinner, bath and bed for my daughter (she's on the same sleeping and eating schedule of a South Florida retiree). We steamed some vegis for her (another thing we'd been meaning to do for a while) and she promptly fell asleep in her highchair holding a handful of broccoli. Come to think of it, I was pretty tired, too. And my back was killing me.

We all limped through the bath, book, bed ritual and the baby was asleep before she hit the crib. My husband and I looked at each other. It was barely 6pm and we were exhausted. The yard looked great, my closet was fabulous and we had a pretty new birdhouse but I ached all over. Maybe we weren't cut out for suburban Saturdays. Perhaps we should have paced ourselves. Or maybe weddings aren't such a bad way to spend a Saturday after all.

A Personal History - Game Show Style

I’m a game show fan. It’s totally embarrassing. I should be seated in a stiff chair reading a tome of some significance, like a biography of Nietzsche, while sipping on decaffeinated tea with Mozart playing in the background. But that’s not what goes on around here at night.

Once we finally get our 3-year-old to bed, then one of us has to rock the baby to a state of comatose restfulness if not sleep. Therefore, my evening reading time is quite limited and even television time has been reduced to shows with simple plots or no plots at all. These days, I suffer through an hour of Howie in the hopes that some deserving Joe or Jane will win thousands of dollars on Deal or No Deal. On Fridays, we watch 1 v. 100 and are amazed at which questions we answer incorrectly.

When I was little and forced to stay home from school due to the flu, chicken pox, or some other nasty crud, I got to watch game shows all morning. No matter how rotten I felt, an hour guessing grocery store product prices on The Price is Right, screaming “No Whammy!” on Press Your Luck, or groaning as some sucker traded away a perfectly fabulous new car for the hobby horse hiding behind Curtain #3 on Let’s Make a Deal always made me feel better.

As a teenager, I would sullenly join the rest of my family in watching Jeopardy!, followed by Wheel of Fortune. In general, I found the trivia pretty challenging, but I was fairly good at the word puzzles and my mother and I loved to comment on Vanna’s dresses. My mom would often say, “I don’t like that dress at all. But Vanna’s okay. She has cats.” When my grandmother would visit, we’d watch Family Feud and she’d giggle sadistically when the family members would grow agitated or argue with one another. She called the host, Richard Dawson, “Kissy Face” because he kissed all the women on the show.

I still think one of the hardest game shows to win was 10,000 Pyramid. I think I only witnessed one victorious contestant in all my years as a game show fan, and I jumped up and down and cheered for that man as if he were my own brother.

I think that’s why I like game shows so much. I like to root for that nameless stranger who puts themselves out there in front of all of us in the hopes of bettering his or her life by bringing home a bag filled with bucks. Me? I’ve got enough risks just being a writer by trade, but I enjoy watching others take on a challenge while surrounded by beaming lights and gorgeous models.

What’s your favorite game show?

Breakfast of Champions. Not.

I’m not a big breakfast eater. Never have been.

Having said that, I must qualify that statement by saying that on occasion I do eat breakfast.

Here and there I gobble up French toast. Bagels. Sausage biscuits and hash browns. Pancakes. Eggs, a great once in a while. Rarely cereal.

So, what did I have yesterday?

Cake.

Yes, cake. I admit it. I confess. I had a hunk of yellow cake with milk chocolate frosting.
And I have to say it was one of the best breakfasts ever.

While I’m confessing, I might as well get it all out. I’ve also been known to have brownies, Nilla wafers, a random Snickers, Girl Scout short bread cookies, and homemade chocolate chip cookies for breakfast a time or two.

Mmmm. Those are breakfasts worth waking up for.

After I finished my cake yesterday, I got to wondering. Who decided we couldn’t have dessert for breakfast? Who declared bacon, eggs, and toast are better than yellow cake? (By the way, anyone know what flavor “yellow” happens to be? Wait. Maybe I don’t want to know.) There are eggs in cake. Milk too. Two of the food groups right there. And I’m sure there’s some study floating around out there stating that chocolate is good for us—there always is. Yeah, yeah, it’s supposed to be dark chocolate that’s good for us, but sooner or later someone somewhere is going to proclaim milk chocolate is the missing key to living a long, healthy life. I’m sure of it.

Now I’m not saying that we should eat goodies all day long. Everything in moderation. But personally I’d rather have my dessert first thing rather than last thing.

So, tell me, what’s the oddest thing you’ve had for breakfast?

And by the way, I’m trusting no one will show this blog to my kids.

~heather

THE Recipe

Well, it's been a week of doing those last finishing touches on Dead and Berried -- you know, things like making sure your muffin recipes actually have flour listed in the ingredients, checking to see that you haven't changed anyone's name halfway through the book... and correcting small errors like changing both the color and gender of a cat between chapters 14 and 18. If I messed up on eye color somewhere, don't tell me. Because it's done. Finished. Off the to-do list.

Woo hoo!

I've also been bugging my friend Kathi to bug her friend Bev (whose last name I wish I could remember -- she's charming, and she cooks like a dream) to get me the recipe I was drooling over last week.

So here it is, folks. Just make sure you have someone -- preferably several someones -- on hand to share it with.

Flourless Chocolate Chambord Cake

10 Ounces semisweet chocolate; -chopped or 1 2/3 cup chocolate chips
2 Ounces unsweetened -chocolate; chopped
3/4 Cup Unsalted Butter/Cut In -12 Pcs
1/3 Cup water
6 eggs
1 Cup granulated sugar
1 Teaspoon vanilla extract
3 Tablespoons Chambord
or other raspberry liqueur
sweetened whipped cream

Preheat oven to 325 degrees; grease and flour a 9-inch springform pan. Melt the semisweet chocolate, unsweetened chocolate and butter with the water in a medium saucepan over low heat, stirring with a wire whisk until smooth. Cool slightly.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs, sugar and vanilla extract on high speed for 10 minutes. Fold in the chocolate and liqueur. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan.

Place the pan in a shallow baking pan. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the cake is slightly puffed on the outer one-third of the top and the center doesn't shake when you move the pan gently. The cake should feel firm all over, except in the center.

Remove the springform pan to a wire rack to cool for 20 minutes. Loosen and release the sides of the pan, but leave the cake in the pan until completely cool. Remove the cake from the pan. Cover and chill for 6 to 48 hours.

Serve with whipped cream. Store in the refrigerator. Note:

This fudgy cake will dip in the center after it is baked. Disguise this by filling the center with whipped cream and fruit, if you like.

Yield: 16 Servings

DISCLAIMER: I cannot be blamed for waistbands that refuse to button.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THESE

I don't know if it's just me--in fact, I'm sure it's not just me, unless my husband and I have both developed sleeping sickness--but the time change (and the subsequent switch to flannel sheets) has seemingly triggered a hibernation reflex in me.

I'm usually energized in the autumn, but this year I can hardly wait to get home to slip into the comfy P.J.s. I mean, I am waiting, because it's hard to rule an office with an iron hand and a pair of bunny slippers, but it's a struggle. When the alarm goes off in the morning I've developed the really bad habit of instantly subtracting the thirty minutes I set the clock ahead, and letting myself drift back asleep. This results in later panic and some frightening acts performed with a curling wand, but somehow at the time, those last few minutes of warm cuddling seem worth it.

This is the time of year when I most appreciate my bedroom, which I've taken pains to turn into "a lovely oasis of tranquility" as the home decor books put it. As much as an oasis can be with a guy's dirty socks strewn over the sand dunes. The walls are the palest of pale pink--which I swore to Mr. Smith I would never reveal--but it's actually a very soothing color--and we only use pink light bulbs, which I know sounds pretty ghastly, but again, very soothing because it creates the mellow effect that silk lampshades do. I have those tiny stick-on stars and planets artfully arranged across the ceiling--again, I know that sounds a bit precious, but they're quite relaxing. And if there's one thing a bedroom should be, it's relaxing. That's what I keep telling Mr. Smith anyway: "WILL YOU RELAX?????"

So I was thinking about ways to improve the coma-inducing effects of my bedchamber when I remembered a favorite book of mine: LIVING A BEAUTIFUL LIFE by Alexandra Stoddard.

I don't know if you're familiar with Alexandra Stoddard or her books, but she's credited with originating the philosophy of elegance--essentially creating an atmosphere of beauty and tranquility with simple touches that turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. Her basic premise is that you can brighten your life and home by paying attention to the little things, taking time to "turn mundane tasks into small pleasurable rituals that add beauty and joy to everything you do."


I think we all (well, I do, anyway) rush through our lives chasing goal after goal, and rarely stopping to--okay, yes this is terribly trite--smell the roses. We rarely make time for elegance or graciousness because those things seem to take time and energy, and who the heck has any of that to spare?

So I thought I would share some of Alexandra Stoddard's "Grace Notes" for adding little moments of richness or elegance to your boudoir:

1) Keep a journal by your bed to jot down your dreams. The idea here is we learn so much from our dreams if we stop to actually consider what they mean. I would embellish this by suggesting that your journal be a really lovely one that gives you pleasure just looking at it: rich leather or a beautiful image on the cover. WARNING: Do NOT turn this book into a THINGS TO DO LIST.

2) Use fragrant oil and floris rings on your bedside lamps. This is a nice idea if your husband is okay with the scent--I would suggest going for something soothing and sleep-inducing like lavender or vanilla (A.S. suggests orange blossom, which sounds lovely--if a bit like furniture polish).

3) Unplug the television and take it out of the room. Okay, so Alexandra isn't perfect! My suggestion is leave the TV right were it is and keep a stash of lovely and romantic movies in your bedroom. Soothing stuff like...POSSESSION (based on the book by A.S. Byatt). You might want to put a block on the hockey channel. Just a thought.

4) Have a small refrigerator in your closet for fruit, iced water, chilled glasses, etc. I love this idea! I don't have an inch of extra closet space, but what a delightful notion.

5) Keep a kaleidocope beside the bed for inspiration.

(Hmmm. I like the whimsy of this idea but I'm uneasy about the effect of all this inspiration on Mr. Smith.)

6) Read poetry before falling asleep--because your last thought of the day should be of something lovely. I love that and I would recommend Amy Lowell or Sara Teasdale, two of my very favorite poets. See how enthusiastic I am about this one? Not a quip in sight.

QUIP. Not whip. Do not even GO there!

Feel free to share your own ideas with us for turning your sleeping space into a haven for dreams!

Home At Last

Boy, am I glad to be back home in Colorado. I've been on the road almost constantly since leaving for Bouchercon in Wisconsin on September 26th. Whew! I'm ready to squirrel away and write, and believe me, there's a lot on my plate waiting for me.

But before I "go to ground" and start revisions on the last book and writing the next book in the series, I wanted to comment on a conference I just attended near Lake Tahoe, CA. It was unlike any writers' conference or mystery conference or business conference I've ever attended. Probably because it WASN'T a business conference. It was a "spinning" conference.

Yep, you heard me right. It was a gathering of over 200 hundred spinners from all over the US and the UK. Most brought their spinning wheels, others rented some from the site. The organization that produces this annual event calls it SOAR---Spin Off Autumn Retreat. They gather every year for a week for workshops and hands-on demonstrations of all aspects of this delightful craft.

How was it different? Everyone was happy. They were loving what they were doing and learning and sharing----and buying. There was a marketplace the last four days with vendors of every type of fiber and craft-related item imaginable. That's why I showed up. I was invited by the owner of Lambspun of Colorado (the real one here in Fort Collins) to join her in the marketplace and autograph books----and help her run the large booth. Boy, was that an experience. Thank goodness they were patient with me when I had to "run the register."

I've never been to a conference where everyone was happy. Really. Those other conferences--while enjoyable, mind you--are a LOT more stressful. Career conferences are always a mix of emotions---the entire spectrum. Scary, sometimes.

But not this one. Those spinners were enjoying themselves, doing what they loved. If they were furthering their careers or escaping from them---you couldn't tell. They were revelling in the sensuous fibers, discussing different techniques, sharing their skills with one another.

Since I don't spin, I was content to sit with the spinners, sometimes kniting, sometimes not. It was peaceful just talking and laughing and joking with them while they spun, watching the wheel go around, and the soft colorful fibers in their laps wind upon the spindles. Nice. Very nice.

Thank you, spinners, for a wonderful way to finish up my fall traveling. It was a busy, but relaxing four days.

Bargain shoppers

I love Target (Tarjey--is the way I like to say, as if it's an exclusive, haute couture store--LOL). What could be better than a one stop store? Really! You can run into that place and buy a couple cute T-shirts, anything you could possibly need for your home, BOOKS, DVD's, music, toys--whatever. LOVE IT! Bad thing about Target (for me anyway) is that I get through the checkout and think, "oh crap, did I really buy that much?" We won't even discuss what my husband says. Speaking of shopping and husbands--does anyone ever hide the things they buy, and sneak them into the house covertly? Then, when he says, "Is that new?" You can honestly say, "No. Had this for a few months." The smart shopper who does this--will wait some time before she digs under the bed to bring out her items. That was a sidenote. Not saying that I do that. Just wondering, if anyone does?

The other place where I get to the checkout stand and think, "Uh oh--no I did not." is at Costco. That place is trouble--BIG TIME. You go there, and in your head, you're thinking--toilet paper, paper towels, dog food, burgers--and you wind up with a new chip and dip set, four DVD's, three new books, a set of sweats, some new salsa and gourmet crackers! Such a gimmick to think you actually can SAVE money at Costco.

But I did save money at Target this weekend. You bet I did. Now, I used to be all about Nordstrom, but took a pay-cut when I became an author and with three kids, Nordy's is no longer an option. However, i like to live vicariously through the Nordy shopper, so I was in there a couple of weeks ago--going "Oooh, and ah, and i'd like that, and then--oh my gosh--It cost what?" This happened when I came across this really cute purse. Now, I am not a purse chick, or shoe chick. Not really. My mom--definitely. Me--I'm more of a jeans chick--got lots of them. However, i saw this purse at Nordy's that was gorgeous and I wanted it. However, I can't justify $300.00 on a purse. A PURSE! So I sulked away from the department and later forgot about the purse (sort of). Then, I went into Traget on Friday to get some socks for the kids. Well, wouldn't you know--I see a purse almost exactly like the one from Nordstrom. Okay, so it's pleather not leather, and maybe the buckle isn't all silver like, but it's damn close, and it cost me $20.00! I have to say, I feel really good about this purse. Put a smile on my face all weekend. And, you know what--no one knows if I spent $20.00 or $200.00, and you know what else--no one cares! The best part is, I actually walked out of there with only my purse and kids' socks! Quite a feat for me.

Okay--any good buys that you've come across lately that put a smile on your face?

Have a great day!

Michele

Mistakes Captured in Print

A few posts ago, Diana talked about self-improvement. I wanted to elaborate on that point a bit by using a slightly self-effacing anecdote. Two weeks ago, I received an email pointing out a mistake I had made in my most recent antique and collectibles mystery. Now, let me backpedal for a moment and say that I am not an expert on antiques. I am just fascinated by them. Any time I have an extra dollar, I’m on the hunt for some cool piece of history to bring home. It’s my passion for antiques that drives me to incorporate them into my mysteries.

In any case, I have to do a significant amount of research before writing each book, because there are tons of terms and dates and little idiosyncrasies that the antiques folks will be looking out for when they read my books. And it matters what they think. I care very, very much what my readers think. After all, they’re the ones plunking down good money to give my books a shot and it is my hope that they enjoy the writing and find the antiques-related bits accurate and believable.

So when I received an email from a curator of the Smithsonian, pointing out that I had made a rather large error on p.76 of A FATAL APPRAISAL, I was torn between being thrilled that a curator from the Smithsonian had bought my book and being horrified that this person had discovered a mistake.

Sometimes when we write, our minds are thinking of one thing and our fingers put down another. Usually these are little type-o errors, but I used the word “photographs” in reference to a desk used during the American Revolution. This is about 100 years too early to be making mention of photographs. In my mind, I was thinking of a painted miniature, but that’s not what I wrote and I didn’t catch the error in any of the subsequent drafts. I emailed the curator back, thanking them for pointing out my error.

It’s hard to find all of your own mistakes. Sure, there are copy editors, but they don’t always know the specifics of knitting, or wine, or poetry, or running an inn, or planning a wedding, or about Federal American furniture. Too bad, huh? And there we are—being driven by deadlines, reading the same sentences over and over again until we don’t really see them anymore, and begging the same two or three friends to look over drafts for us.

It’s going to happen. We’re going to make mistakes. If not us, then there will be a type-o that people will point out or some other flaw; like the cover doesn’t exactly match the plot…you get my drift. What’s most important is that we fess up our human capacity for error to our readers and try to better next time. You can bet that I’m going to be double-checking every detail on the antiques in my next book.

Have you ever received an email about a mistake in one of your books or found one in a book that you’ve read?

Who Needs Sleep?

Did anyone see the episode of "The View” a couple of weeks ago? The one where the panel was discussing sleepovers? How Rosie wouldn’t let her kids sleep at their friends’ houses, of how Joy and Elisabeth had never been allowed to sleep at their friends’ either?

It never occurred to me to not let my kids sleep at other people’s houses. To me, it’s a rite of passage, a little independence, a great way for them to see how other families work. Of course, there’s always some worry involved, especially when I don’t know another family well, but I think it’s good to let go sometimes, to not be so overprotective.

However, a few weekends ago, my son came to me, asking if he could have a friend sleep over at our house.

Seemed like such an innocent request, so I agreed.

After a flurry of phone calls, he came back to me. “Mom, can I have two friends sleep over?”

This was new territory for us. Up till now, it had been strictly one-friend-only. But my son has good friends, and they’re all good kids. I agreed.

More phone calls, and he comes back again. “Mom, can I have three friends sleep over?”

Over slight palpitations, I agreed. Four teenaged boys for one night? Couldn’t be so bad.

My main concern was the food situation. I didn’t think I had enough goodies in the pantry to sustain those growing stomachs. My husband volunteered to run out to the store, and we took a quick survey of what the boys liked. Everything from Slim Jims to Mike and Ikes to Sour Cream and Onion Pringles. My stomach hurts just thinking about it.

They played computer games, pool, ping pong, air hockey. They watched a movie, played video games, teased each other, and laughed all night long.

They all agreed to sleep in the basement, and we thought that was a great idea until we remembered the vents. Noise in the basement travels a direct route into our bedroom via the heating ducts. This is great when we’re spying, but when we’re trying to sleep? Not so good. We tried closing the ducts (luckily it was a warm night and the heat wouldn’t be on), putting pillows over them, and even layering towels over them , too, for good measure. It helped. A little. Mostly, the pillow over my head did the trick.

All in all, I’d have them over again—truth be told, it was fun. But maybe next time I’ll pick up some earplugs beforehand.

My question to you is, How do you feel about sleepovers? Allow them? Don’t?

~heather

The most fattening time of the year

Well, it's November again, and if the last week is any indication, I'm going to need to grease my hips with Crisco just to get through the front door by the time January rolls around. (And yes, rolls is the appropriate word.)

I didn't mean it to start so early -- usually, it doesn't start getting hairy until late November -- but this year is shaping up to be a calorie extravaganza. Last weekend involved a wedding with copious amounts of deliciously marbled barbecued brisket, white wine, and wedding cake (yum). The next day, I finally had the judging for the Muffins are Murder contest, and despite my efforts to put major dents in each of the entries, found myself with about twenty pounds of excess muffin; then, of course, came Halloween (Chianti, pizza, and Snickers' bars) followed by a dessert party last night at my friend Kathi Kimbriel's house, where I indulged in a chocolate raspberry chambord cake that I refuse to get the recipe for.

The sad thing is, every time I attend one of these events, I pack apples and sugar snap peas and vow to stick to Diet Coke the whole night. I mean, it's not like I'm not prepared.

But then the first chocolate chip cookie sneaks in, or someone hands me a glass of wine, and before you know it, I've bellied up to the trough (or the dessert table) with the biggest paper plate I can get my hands on.

So we've got sixty days (give or take a few) until the holiday season is over. Maybe we need a contest to see who can gain the most weight. I've got a head start, of course, but I'll take a handicap...

On a better note, my laptop has finally made the pilgrimage back from the repair center in California, so for now, anyway, I'm back online. Since I thought that two weeks ago, though, no guarantees... (In fact, I'm still having display problems. Grrr.)

At any rate, happy November. And for those of you who have already started -- or perhaps even completed -- your Christmas shopping, I'd like to invite you to do some of mine. I always refuse to do it early and then regret it come December 20, when I'm paying top dollar for things like talking reindeer and flocked elf ornaments out of sheer desperation -- and also because I've put it off for so long there's nothing left. Is it just me?

All Writers Great and Small

I was reading an interesting article on Yahoo. No, not the one about the hungry hippo eating pumpkins or the marijuana growing in the Italian school garden. This was an article by Geoffrey Colvin for CNNMoney.com and it was called WHAT IT TAKES TO BE GREAT.

Basically what it all boiled down to was the assertion that natural talent has less (in fact, the word used was "irrelevant") to do with great success than hard work and practice.

Which is not exactly a news bulletin, right? This is what we hear from the time we're small. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. We all heard that growing up, I imagine.

And I'm assuming we all believed it.

Up to a point. I do think we are all born with certain aptitudes, like perfect pitch or the ability to fun really fast. There's all the old right brain and left brain data that supports the notion of biological or genetic tendencies. If eye color is hered