Heat on a winter's day

Hubby and I have a rambling ranch house.  We love it.  There are so many wonderful places you can go to on a snowy day and plunk yourself down to read (or write)--including my office.  But there's just one problem...my office is the farthest from the furnace which is kind of a problem come late December.

To save energy costs, we turn our heat down at night to 64F.  That means it's liable to be 54F in my office.  That's a tad nippy if one wants to work (or boot up one's computer.  That's why I leave my computer ON from November through April and just reboot every morning before I start my work for the day). 
For years, I had one of those oil-filled electric heaters.  They work well ... IF you turn them on at least two hours before you want to use a room.  (And it's best to close the door to keep that s-l-o-w-ly created heat confined.)  I wore a LOT of clothes while trying to work in that kind of environment.

Then, last year, hubby bought me one of those Edenpure heaters.  They work with a  light bulb that heats copper, and a fan to blow the warm air into the room.  While it's a lot more efficient than the electric oil heat, it still takes hours to get my office up to a decent (working) temperature.

Of course, the summer is just the opposite.  It's hot as hades in this office, and the lovely cool air courtesy of our Carrier central air isn't cool by the time it winds its way through the entire house.  And when the afternoon sun hits my office window, YIKES, besides being steamy, I can't even see my computer screen for sun glare. 

I'll bet many of you are saying, "Why doesn't she get a blind on that window?" 

The truth is, I have one.  But my cat Fred chewed the cord right off, so now I can only lower it eight inches.  (Don't you just LOVE cats!!!)  It's not a standard-sized window, so I had to special order it.  Me thinks I'll start cashing in the deposit on pop bottles and save for a new blind for next summer.

How are you staying warm this winter?

One Man's Trash....

Hubby and I have several Christmases.  Friday morning, we did stockings with his mother.  Friday evening, we did a presents exchange with my family.  On Saturday night, hubby and I did our own gift exchange.

I like that.  It draws out the fun, gives you something to look forward to.  Stocking stuffers are always fun.  We've been trying to cut down on the goodies that go into them (think chocolate:  milk, dark, chili (can't wait to try that one), little boxes of Russell Stovers), but inevitably, they stockings are stuffed with them.  Hubby tries to be good, and somehow I always end up with purple, pink, and turquoise pens--makes it easier to find the changes when I edit a manuscript.  And he always includes those little Post-It tabs that I can use when editing a ms to mark the pages I have changes on.  (By the time I'm done reading, there's a rainbow of tabs sticking out!) 

My brother always gets me the best stuff.  This year he gave me the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince DVD (which I did not get to see at the theater), AND Julie and Julia (which I did), AND the best of Will Farrell on Saturday Night Live, and even MORE stuff.  (He really goes overboard and I LOVE IT.)  On Sunday, he called me to ask what I'd gotten from my hubby.  LOTS of DVDs (it's going to be tough to sit down and write the next book and NOT be tempted by all those lovely movies and the entire run of several TV shows).  So I dutifully gave him low-down. 

His puzzled reaction:  "I thought you said you got good stuff."

Hey, I happen to love every one of those movies, including A Christmas Story, Inside Moves, Murder By Decree--I haven't seen the latter two in a long time and wonder if they'll hold up to what I remember.  It'll be interesting to see Murder By Decree again (Sherlock Holmes as played by Christopher Plummer, with James Mason as Watson), especially considering I plan to go see the new Sherlock Holmes movie with Robert Downey Jr.  (who I love!!!).  And it was odd to find out that the director of Murder By Decree also directed A Christmas Story.  Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum!

My brother was also absolutely horrified to find out that hubby had also given me the 1096-page biography of the Queen Mum.  I had to shake my head at that one.  I've already read the first two chapters and can't wait to really dive into it.

So I guess it's true--one man's trash is another man's (or woman's) treasure. 

And what did Santa bring YOU this Christmas?

And Sheep May Safely Graze

Back when we were courting (don't you just love that phrase?), my now-husband bought me a Christmas cassette (tells you how long ago THAT was) called Celtic Christmas, harp music by Kim Robertson.  I fell in love with one piece called "And Sheep May Safely Graze" by, of all people, Johann Sebastian Bach.  (Can you believe it, I'd never heard the piece before.)  I loved this piece of music so much, I hired a harpist to play it at my wedding.  (Sadly, she wasn't as good as Kim Robertson.)

I think that's when I got this thing for sheep.  I started buying them.  Oh, not the actual creatures.  Get real--I live in the suburbs. 

My first sheep was a stuffed toy.  But I'm not really into stuffed animals (although I do seem to have more than my fair share).  I like that they're placid animals--at least as figurines.  They sit quietly in my cabinet and seem to have a calming effect on me when I'm ready to yank out my hair over some idiotic situation.  Although an acquaintance of mine who works at a "living museum" (think Sturbridge--but not as grand) says sheep can be really stoooopid--and even throw tantrums.  Who knew?

About ten years ago I bought my first orphaned sheep at an estate sale.  Somehow they'd been separated from the other nativity figurines.  I wasn't exactly sure what to do with them until after a trip to Italy, where I got a St. Francis figurine.  Then my little display kind of evolved, including an orphaned lamb. 

Things haven't exactly gotten out of hand, but I do try to pick up as many orphaned nativity sheep as I can find at garage sales and such, and I usually don't pay more than 50 cents for them.  My first ram came from a charity shop in England (a gift from my mother--he's the one with the black horns).  One Christmas my friend Janette even gave me a Cherished Teddy (in a kilt and holding a lamb!) to act as shepherd for my flock.


I don't think I added anything to my collection for more than a year before these guys showed up just days ago. 

They needed a home...and I'm happy to give it to them.

Merry Christmas--and happy holidays all!

The Annual Christmas Lunch

For about twenty-three years now, my sweetie has taken me to lunch just before Christmas.  It's a tradition we love and is almost always very special.

 The very first time we went out, was actually our second lunch together.  I didn't call it a "date" because I was friends with a lot of guys at work and we often went to lunch, almost always Dutch treat, too.  But Frank invited me out to lunch on a very snowy day and I figured I ought to wear my boots.  Moon boots.  Big, Ugly, Clunky, Boots.  I was sure we were going to a diner or maybe even a fast food joint for pizza or a burger.  No, he takes me to a real swank place called Chestnuts, where everything on the menu was so expensive it made your eyes go BOING!

So there I was, Little Miss Unsophisiticated with her moon boots, and knitted hat and turtleneck (hey, I was cold!), and all around me are these svelt, model-like women in sleeveless dresses cut down to the navel and dripping with jewelry, sipping sherry or chardonnay, and there I was with a whiskey pop (a highball).  But it was a lovely lunch and when he dropped me back off at the office, he handed me a gift.  (A GIFT!!!!!  Handmade stationery.)  I was so surprised, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, which I think startled and surprised him, too.

For years we went to a lovely little restaurant in the basement of and old office building, that had the most gorgeously decorated rooms for dining (black lacquered tables, plenty of mirrors, and lots of sparkling chandeliers), a sumptuous bar, and exquisite Christmas decorations.  We'd have a couple of drinks (Manhattan for him, martini for me) and always ended lunch with their famous white mousse.  But then they lost their lease and moved to another historic building, and totally changed their decor to all white, no window treatments (there had been no windows in their previous location, which tended to make the place feel more intimate), and no charisma.  They were out of business within six months.

After that, we often had lunch in lovely Tastings, the test-kitchen restaurant owned by the Wegmans grocery chain.  But Tastings has now closed--and they've reopened as Next Door Bar and Grill and they don't (yet) serve lunches. (Bummer.)

So this year we ended up in Keanan's--a very nice casual-style restaurant, which is always nicely decorated, and has a wonderful staff.  We had a lovely lunch...but it just wasn't the same.  We've eaten there on many occasions--not always happy (like the day my Dad died), and have always had a nice lunch.  (One of the waitresses even knows what we drink--even though we might only go there six times a year.)

I'm hoping by next year we find some other wonderful little restaurant that will make the Christmas lunch as special as it once was.  Of course the one thing that has always been the same is my lunch companion--and through the years I couldn't have done any better.

Do you have a tradition like this?

The Best Christmas Presents Ever

My Dad was a craftsman, and could do just about anything.  He built half the furniture in my house.  Heck, he gutted my first house and made it a home.  (I impeded him with that operation, but learned a lot, as well.)

He went through a lot of hobbies.  For a while he did leathercraft.  I still have--and use--the wallet he made for me over 30 years ago.  He made jewelry.  (I wear 14 rings, five of them he made.)  But one of his most endearing projects were his wood carvings--a hobby that stayed with him for a long time.  He liked to do variations of Santa, and literally did hundreds of them. These little guys were one of his first efforts, and look pretty primitive when compared with his later work.  He gave them to me for my birthday in 1992.  When he'd finished them, he thought they looked like they were singing--and that they should do that under a lamppost--so he made one of those, too!

At first, he was very critical of the painting of his carvings, and even asked my husband to do a few, but in no time he was better at it than Frank, and adding more and more decorations to the little guys.  He did fat Santas, tall Santas and a lot of short Santas.  His favorite were Tomties--little elves that help Santa.  (As pictured on the right.)  He made a LOT of these, and usually they were doing something, (like this little guy holding the candle) and usually wore "wooden" shoes. 

I'm really not sure how Dad got into carving, but for him, it was an adventure, albeit a usually solitary affair.  I had my critique group, and Dad had his carving buddies that he saw every few weeks.  One of them moved to Berea, KY--home of The Kentucky Artisans center, which, like the name says, showcases the work Kentucky's best artisans.  Dad's former carving partner wanted to make a certain carving, but it wouldn't come out right, so Dad made one and sent it to him as a prototype.  Unknown to Dad, the man put Dad's carving into a local competition where it took first prize!  (The one on the left is another version of that prizewinner.)

 As far as adventures go, one day Dad was in his workshop carving, when he called up to my mother.  "I've cut myself."  She figured he'd cut his hand, but he'd actually dropped the knife on his thigh.  When she got down to the workshop, there was so much blood, she thought he'd slashed an artery and got on the phone to 911, then hauled him upstairs to wait for the ambulance.  There was blood everywhere--on the workshop floor, the stairs, all over the kitchen.  The EMTs arrived in record time and got the bleeding under control, but they sent him to the ER just in case.  Then they wanted to see THE CARVING KNIFE.  When Mom showed the guy, he nearly went into hysterics of laughter.  He'd been expecting a 10-inch carving knife, not a tiny 1-inch blade.  (Hey, those suckers are sharp.)  Ninety minutes later, Dad was belly-up to the bar at my Aunt's house where they were supposed to go for dinner--and only 30 minutes late.  (Hey, there was a Manhattan waiting with his name on it.)

One of my favorite carvings is Santa stuck in the chimney.  From the top, all you see are Santa's legs sticking out--but turn the carving over, and there's Santa's sooty face.

Dad didn't do too many carvings these last few years.  His remaining carving buddy moved away and it wasn't so much fun any more.  But last year for Christmas he gave me two of his last efforts.  One was unpainted, the other was a Bear dressed in overalls.  They live in my office, with a couple of fishermen, an owl, and an unfinished Santa tree ornament.  The rest of them reside on a little bookshelf in my living room.  I have carved bunnies, birds, a deer, and even a walrus, and I love them all.

Dad passed away in October, so there won't be just one more "found" carving to go in my collection.  (I know they're there--I've seen them in his workshop, which is pretty much just the way he left it.) 

It's the end of a wonderful tradition.  While it makes me terribly sad, I have all these wonderful pieces that Dad made, a lot of them signed "For Lorraine made by her Dad." 

The were the best Christmas presents ever.

"This House Is Clean"

Today marks the second time the cleaning ladies will have shown up.  As I looked around my kitchen this morning, I was pretty pleased that we'd "kept it up" since the last time they were here.  Even the floor still looks good, and when you've got pigs...er, cats...who insist on taking their food OUT of their clean bowls and eating it off the floor--well, that's saying something.  (And why is it they do that, anyway?  My Mom's dog does the same thing.)

Of course, my office still looks like a bomb hit it, but that's because I haven't found a home for the all the clutter that got stacked in here two weeks ago.  And I still have all the clobber from the craft shows I did for the past month hanging around.  (That's a LOT of boxes.)

But, truly, knowing somebody is going to come and clean does actually keeps you from messing the place up too much--which is really rather counter productive.  In fact, yesterday I found myself washing the wall behind the stove, and then I cleaned the sinks and scrubbed the top of the stove (Soft Scrub and baking soda--an unbeatable combination!).

The guilt is starting to abate about needing someone to come in and clean.  As my friend Jan told me, "you're contributing to the economy and keeping someone in a job."

I like having a clean house, and wonder why we didn't do this years ago.

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: Having No Pet Peeves

Can you imagine this:  just a week before Christmas and I haven't got one thing to be annoyed about.

I did some major shopping the other day (I was gone from 10 a.m. until after 4 p.m.) and everyone I ran across was NICE.  I was in Macy's and not only did a salesperson approach me and ask if I needed help, she stuck with me for half an hour, made sure I had boxes, and found someone to ring up my sale.  You see, this woman was a DISTRICT MANAGER, but she was helping out because they were shorthanded.  Let me tell you, Macy's is now MY favorite place to Christmas shop.  (Except for bookstores, of course.)

People held the door open for me and my mother.

People wished us "Merry Christmas," "Happy Holidays," and to "have a nice day."

Traffic was heavy, but no one acted like an idiot and refused to let me change lanes when I needed to.

I wish this Christmas spirit could last the whole year.

Where are my cookie cutters?

For days now, I've been trying to find the time to make cut-out cookies for Christmas. I've assembled all the ingredients and yesterday I bought two new cookie cutters. (A martini glass--wonder why I got that? And a school bus. (My brother is a substitute driver and is an absolute NUT for cut-out cookies so I thought I'd make him a batch.)) I've been looking in stores for a Scotty dog cookie cutter for months. I found one online but didn't want to pay $10 PLUS shipping, so no Scotty dog cookies this year.

I dug out the bag of cookie cutters the other night and I'm sure there's a bunch missing. But where would I have put them? When I had my booth at the Craft Antique Co-op, I sold hundreds of cookie cutters, and I know when I went out of business that I didn't sell them all. But where did they go?
This year I thought I'd try to do more than just slap on icing. I'm going to pipe the cookies so they look like they came out of a decorating magazine. The only problem is, I'm not all that handy with a pastry bag. I figure my first efforts will probably look ... like first effort, but I shall persevere...at least for an hour or so.

Have you done your holiday baking yet?

Trotting Out Old Holiday Favorites--hey, I've got one, too!

On a recent visit to my local bookstore, I wandered through the mystery section to see what was new (and did they have copies of my book(s) and those of my friends). On all the cap ends were holiday mysteries. Lots of them. Whoa!

A quick look at the copyright dates proved that these were NOT new books getting preferential treatment, but that the bookstore was trotting out seasonal backlists to satisfy its readers' desire to get in the holiday spirit with a little touch of murder.

Some bigger-name authors get their holiday books re-released everyyear with "new-improved" editions, with extras like recipes and holidayessays. (Can you think of a better thing? New editions--somethingevery collector will want and NEED!) Ka-ching, ka-ching!

I told an author friend of mine that we needed to write holiday books that we could trot out every year. Unfortunately, it's usually the publisher--not the author--who decides these things.


Still, I do have a holiday story I can trot out every year. Okay, it's available year-round on Amazon Shorts, and I rarely trot. Add to that, the title gives no clue that the story is set during the holiday season. It's called "We're So Sorry, Uncle Albert," and it's so forlorn (i.e. lack of sales) it isn't even ranked any more. I wanted to explore the relationship between the have and have-nots within a family unit. What would it take to goad family members to even consider bumping off a “loved one?” And what are the possibilities of getting away with such a crime? And why not set it during the holiday season?

And at only 49 cents, it's a heck of a deal!

Will I ever write a novel set at Christmas? Well . . . maybe. I do have one in the closet that takes place around Thanksgiving -- and the epilogue takes place on Christmas Eve. And my first Victoria Square Mystery takes place Halloween week and ends--you got it--at Christmastime!

Neither of them are truly holiday oriented, so it looks like it'll be a while (if ever) before any of my backlist gets trotted out for the holidays.

(But one never knows.)

What's your favorite holiday book/story?

THE DREADED HOLIDAY LETTER?

I don't know about most of you, but I LOVE to receive those holiday letters that come in Christmas Cards.

These letters seem to have a bad rap with a lot of people, like they're just a brag-fest. But the thing is, I don't hear from some of these people for 11-12 months at a time. It's nice to catch up on what's going on in their lives, even if it isn't an interactive conversation.

A friend of mine has had a couple of bad years. Her college-age son has been quite ill and the last couple of letters have chronicled his progress. And that's the key word--he has made progress and it going to go back to school in January after taking more than a year off for a medical leave. Mind you, I never knew her son, but we were critique partners for a couple of years and we got along really well. I was so sorry to hear about her son's problems, and I'm glad he's on the mend.

I know I'll get at least two or three of these letters. I even got a couple of holiday letters from fans of my writing. They sent Christmas cards to me at my PO Box and included their letters. I read about families I never knew, their vacations, their dogs and cats, their parents and siblings. It was fascinating!

I used to send letters out, but now I'm not so sure. I had two life-altering experiences this year. I made the New York Times Bestsellers list (7 weeks in all--talk about a brag-fest) and I lost my Dad. The best of times and the worst of times. In between, I've been numb. And now, I'm just sad.

Still, 'tis the season to be jolly.

So far we've only received two cards. I'm looking forward to seeing what the mail brings in the next couple of weeks.
How about you?

Why shouldn't I have a maid???

For years, I've been teasing my husband with a line from an old "Bickersons" comedy routine. (No, I'm not old enough to remember them first-run; I got an old cassette out of the library and learned the routines playing them over and over again.) In it, Blanche wails, "Why can't I have a maid?"
When I lived in a small bedroom in my parents first house, it was easy to keep tidy. Same in my first two (small) houses. But then I got married and moved into a sprawling contemporary ranch house. (The original owners had expanded with four additions, and finished off three-quarters of the basement, too.) We, therefore, essentially have four living rooms (it only took 11 years to furnish this place), and we rotate their use on a regular basis.
I don't know how I kept the place clean when I worked a full-time job and had a booth in an antiques co-op (for 12 years), and wrote (but not published) books, as well, but somehow I managed. Now that I don't have to squeeze cleaning and laundry into my life, it's gotten out of hand.
It's been a stressful year, and cleaning the house was not on the top of my to-do list. So, after talking about it for months (okay, really, a couple of years), we bit the bullet and called a cleaning service, and then stressed about it or a whole week.
I'd always heard of women who clean before the cleaners come. "That won't be me," I said.
I lied.
Two hours before they were to arrive, I found myself on my hands and knees cleaning the bathroom floor. Decluttering took the better part of an hour. Everything got stashed in my already messy office, which we hadn't contracted for them to clean. I had to leave to run an errand, so I wasn't there when the two ladies showed up, and wondered if I could find a way to STAY away while they were there.
No such luck. They were here for over three hours.
It turns out, I'm not the only writer around who has someone in to clean. One of my (very successful) author pals said hiring someone to come in and clean her house on a regular basis was the best thing she ever did for her writing career. It freed up hours and hours every week, giving her more time to devote to her career. (And she has a REAL career.) Still, I can't help feeling guilty.
Why do women feel they should do it all? My husband quit cutting the grass three or four years ago. Same with snowblowing the driveway. Gutters? There's a guy for that, too. Wanna dig up the garden in a big way? Just pick up the phone. We both work from home--and usually seven days a week--and he doesn't feel a lick of guilt over no longer doing his "home chores." So why should I feel like I'm not holding up my end?
Will somebody tell me it's okay to have the house cleaned on a regular basis -- and not by me? (And by the way, it really is nice to have a clean house!!!)

My WIP

Today I'm going to start the new book. I know, I know--I just handed a "new" book in last Tuesday, and I did edits on the previous "new" book, too. (Okay, haven't handed them in yet, but my editor is out of the office until Wednesday. It'll get there.)

Actually, on Friday, I didn't have a clue what the new book would be about. Okay, I did pitch a one paragraph load of hogwash over a year ago, thinking I'd come up with something--but maybe might have a better idea in the meantime.

Mind you, it wasn't really hogwash. It's just that I pitched something off the top of my head figuring if I couldn't come up with anything different, I'd make this work. Then I read the pitch about a month ago and started to panic. I thought over and over again about the figment-of-my-imagination idea and how nothing was happening in the idea-generation portion of my brain that would expand that 150-word paragraph into an 80,000 word book.

I had a BIG day Saturday, and I'd forgotten to set the alarm, so I laid awake in bed (because it was warm there and the rest of the house wasn't) and decided to think about the story so I wouldn't fall back asleep. Maybe I'd come up with that "better" idea. But I didn't. I started thinking about the setting where the murder would take place. I started thinking about the weather, the time of day, and who would be nearby. After about ten minutes, I decided I'd better head to the COLD, DRAFTY office and start putting these ideas into the computer before I lost them.

I didn't write a lot. Not even a page. But it was enough to get me going. I've had the story on the back burner all weekend, and I feel like I'm ready to make a first stab at Chapter 1. In fact, I'm looking forward to it. (Which isn't how I usually approach a new book. Usually I go into total procrastination mode.)

Now all I need is 80,000 words and a really good title. (And I'll bet coming up with the title will be harder than coming up with the storyline.) I may end up having a contest to come up with the title, and if I do--I'll let you know.

And a whole new world opens up ...

For years I've been telling anyone who'd listen that I don't like to cook. I think that may now be a lie. Lately it seems I'm a lot more interested in food prep than I have been. It might have a LOT to do with the fact that so much of the food we buy is processed with sodium or high-fructose corn syrup and I really feel better knowing what's in the food I eat.

That's one reason why I expanded my vegetable garden this past summer. We grew broccoli and Brussels sprouts (which Mr. Groundhog ate most of), tomatoes, a TON of green beans (yum!), potatoes, parsley and cilantro.

For the past few days I've been a cooking machine. Wednesday I made Potato-Leek soup (the recipe is included in Bookplate Special) and a mince pie. Friday I made a HUGE lasagna. Yesterday I made a huge vat of turkey-vegetable soup (which will probably feed me for the entire winter, and nobody else in my family will eat it--I freeze it in small containers), and made cookies for the coming holidays. (Shortbread and Oatmeal Raisin cookies.)

The thing I'm noticing is that ... I'm now enjoying the process. Mind you, I love to cook with my husband, but lately we haven't done much of that. (Note to self: Bug Husband To Cook With Me.)
This year I've frozen a ton of onions, leeks, and parsley, good stuff for soups and stews. I have a bunch of crock-pot recipes I want to try. And since I became a cozy mystery author, I always seem to be testing recipes to include in my books. (Too bad most of them are so fattening. But, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for my readers. And if you believe THAT ....)

Sadly, all this domesticity hasn't manifested into a massive clean up of the old homestead. And this week for the first time in my life, I'm hiring someone to come in and give the place a good going over. (I think I'll go hide in the basement while they're here.)
But when I'm in the kitchen, I'm not exactly having fun ... but I do notice I feel completely content when I'm cooking something or other these days. I like that feeling.
How about you?

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: WINTER

I know, I know--officially winter doesn't even start until the Solstice on Dec. 21st, but I'm already fed up. Mind you, we have had a glorious fall. It was almost 60 degrees on Sunday. But we also had our first snow on Tuesday. And so I quoted Ebenezer Scrooge: "Bah. Humbug!"

I like where I live. I like the changing of the seasons. I just wish winter came and went in a week. I was never even disappointed those years we didn't have a White Christmas, either. And the worst: February. Okay, the days actually start to lengthen so that you notice it in February, but the shortest month seems the longest because we always seem to have two or three storms a week. Lake Effect Snow dumps right off either Lake Erie or Lake Ontario, and when you live close to the shore (thank goodness, not THAT close), you get more snow than those who live farther inland.

And, getting back to Christmas, now I'll have to suffer through at least three weeks of Der Bingle and everyone else who ever did a Christmas album singing about a White Christmas. (Okay, I like The Drifters version. It makes me laugh.) I'll have to be regaled about Walking In A Winter Wonderful, and A Marshmallow World In The Winter. Okay, I like the song Baby It's Cold Outside, but I'm with the guy telling the chick how miserable it is. Stay inside, honey, until at least April!

Five months is a long time for one season. (Okay, technically it's shorter, but we've been snowed in in April before.) I have no plans on moving. I'm stuck here. Guess I'll just have to turn up the heat and put on another sweater.

And how will you cope this winter?

Now, how do I do that?

For several years now, we've had a digital camera. We love it! It's so easy. And we can crop the shots, dump the bad ones, and tweak those that are too dark or too light. (And doesn't everybody want to take a picture of their classic toaster?) But we haven't printed anything in years. So now we're in a quandary. Where do we get prints?

It seems to me that I remember buying prints online -- but I don't think I took them. I think they were in someone else's photo album and I just clicked on them, gave my credit card number, and voila! They arrived in the mail a few days later.

So how do I do them for myself? And how do I crop the pictures.

So now I have to go on a quest for new knowledge. It means slogging through web sites, uploading, cropping (again). Or do I take my flash drive to a store and they do it?

I don't miss the old days of film, but I do miss getting my prints.

An Unexpected Review

The other day, my publicist . . . (doesn't that sound hoity-toi? Mind you, I share her with at least 99 if not 9,999 other authors) sent me a review for Bookplate Special.
Okay, what's so special about yet another review?
This one happens to be from Booklist.
So, big deal, you're probably saying to yourself.
Well, it is a big deal. Booklist is one of the BIG FOUR reviewers. With budgets being slashed for books, many libraries make their book-buying decisions from reviews in one of the big four review sources: Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and ... BOOKLIST. Believe me, if you're a small press author, a big four review can make or break you. (I didn't get one for my first hardcover and the book sank like the Titanic, which absolutely broke my heart.)
The BIG FOUR review primarily hardcover books.
Bookplate Special is a mass market paperback.
The best part of all: Booklist liked it, hey, Mikey! They said, in part, "Small-town New Hampshire life, the sisters' turbulent relationship, a
budding romance, and plenty of cooking (includes recipes) provide the ambiance in this satisfying series. A good bet for readers of Joanne Fluke's Hannah Swensen mysteries."
Not bad, eh?

Pet Peeve Thursday--The Season that drags on FOREVER!

Today, my buddy Jeff Cohen makes a return visit to Dazed and Confused. Jeff's latest book is A Night At The Operation will have you laughing all the way to the box office of Comedy Tonight--so don't miss it!

This is, I’m told, the day we’re supposed to take stock, sit back and better appreciate those things for which we are truly thankful.
So, try to come up with a pet peeve while you’re doing that!
Well, I have a real one, a juicy one, a pile of bile that gets me going every year around this time. And many of you reading this are going to be good and annoyed with me, cuff me around, call me names, possibly stop reading my books, or (more likely) find out what books I have written and then go out of your way not to read them. But I’ll say it anyway.

The Christmas season is as annoying and irritating a time of year as I can imagine. And yes, you can say it’s because I’m not one of the American majority who celebrate said holiday, although I am a member of the minority who take the day off to go to the movies and eat Chinese food.

But it’s not Christmas that bugs me. You want to have a day to celebrate the man who founded your religion? That’s lovely—go ahead and do that. I’m happy to have my wife and kids home and to go see that movie and eat that Chinese food. Everybody’s happy.

The problem is, you guys aren’t satisfied with one day. No. I have to be hearing about Christmas since before the end of the baseball season. Christmas stores open up for business in SEPTEMBER, for crying out loud. Entire radio stations are devoted to playing nothing but Christmas music. You can’t get near the Post Office for at least the last two weeks in December, and I have to mail stuff a lot.

“Oh Jeff,” I hear you say, “don’t be such a Scrooge.”

That’s another thing. The first 150 versions of “A Christmas Carol” weren’t enough? It wasn’t enough that this story has been the basis for everything from a classic Mr. Magoo cartoon to an episode of “The Odd Couple?” We had to have a 3-D version using digital technology with Jim Carrey playing, you know, everybody? What, nobody understood the scores of tries that came before it? The idea of a Christmas movie itself is weird--what other holiday has become a genre? I'm waiting for the first Tu B'ishvat movie. Once I find out what holiday Tu B'ishvat might be.

Imagine this: For Independence Day next year (I chose what is a secular holiday, at least for Americans), we started getting the fife-and-drum music in, say, late March. Radio stations devoted themselves for a FULL MONTH to playing the score of “1776,” and nothing else (especially that endless song about the slave trade and the depressing ballad about a mother searching for her son killed on the battlefield). Every year, someone decided to produce a new version of “Ben and Me” until it became an action movie starring Nicolas Cage and a CGI mouse with the voice of Jim Carrey. Everyone felt the need to buy 4th of July gifts for everyone they’ve ever known, and those who didn’t were considered “Benedict Arnolds.”

How would you feel THEN?

There’s nothing wrong with Christmas. Except that it goes on way too long.

And what's bugging YOU today?
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Check out all of Jeff's Double Feature Mysteries and his web site.

Fish -- on Thanksgiving???

Oh, no, not fish on the ACTUAL day -- I'm talking about a pre-Thanksgiving holiday treat. And that's visiting the Globe Hotel in East Aurora, NY.

Unlike most restaurants, the Globe offers fish fries every day of the week. (Man, if I only lived in East Aurora.) It's about the best fish fry you're likely to find in New York--and maybe the ENTIRE country!
For the past decade or so, we've made it a day-before-Thanksgiving ritual (and on Good Friday, too) to visit the Globe for one of their wonderful fish fries, and today will be no different. We'll hoist a glass of some kind of cheer (for me it's a gin Martini), and no doubt we'll be toasting my Dad, who'll be missing from the table. So it'll be a little bit sad, but a lot of good eating.

Tomorrow we'll fill up on turkey and all the trimmings, but today--it's my wish for fish come true!

A Clean Sweep

We've been talking about it for several years now. Today, we finally made a decision: we're getting someone in twice a month to CLEAN THE HOUSE.

When I had a day job, somehow I not only managed to put in 40 hours a week there, but I had a booth in an antique co-op, and I kept us in clean clothes and the house pretty tidy. Since then, my life has been a lot more chaotic. (Especially this past year when my Dad was so sick.) I've found it hard to take care of us (including four cats), my parents, and the house, AND write two books, AND do all the promo for them. In fact, it was the house that suffered the most.

When we got the cost break down, and it was much less than we'd anticipated, I kicked myself for not investigating this years ago.

Of course, the messiest room in the house (my office) will not be part of the cleaners' job. But that's okay. I still hold out some hope that one day I'll become super organized. And if I really only have to worry about this room, then that should be okay.

I feel this tremendous sense of relief. The house will look better, we'll be happier, and I'm nearly sure we'll see a rainbow in the sky every day (or once every other week) from now on.

At least I hope so.

Hot Topics

Before TV went totally digital back in June, I had a little television in my kitchen. I would somehow often find an excuse to be in the kitchen at 11 a.m. on weekdays and -- oh my! -- the TV would magically come on and I'd have to stand there and watch The View. (I'm a big Whoopi fan, so when she took over as moderator I ended up in front of the tube even more.) I'd walk in place and pretend I was doing my exercise of the day so that no one could accuse me of totally wasting my time.

My favorite part of the show was the "Hot Topics" segment. I was good for half an hour of exercise on any given day, and more so if they devoted the whole show to the subject.

Then TV ceased to be analog and not only did I stop watching The View, but I stopped walking in place for half an hour. Okay, I have a TV with cable, so it's not like I went cold turkey, but it's just not the same.

And I'm not half as well informed as I was. I mean, what are they saying about Sarah Palin and Levi Johnston these days? Beats me. I have no clue who's Dancing With The Stars (like I ever cared) or is on American Idol--which isn't even on right now, is it? How would I know. When they cut out analog TV there went my access to, well, Access Hollywood AND Entertainment Tonight. (Surely they've dragged Anna Nichol out of mothballs what with her attorney and doctor set for trial, right? Hey, I read the newspaper, so it's not like I'm totally cut off.)

My husband trolls the Internet for world updates, and if anything's breaking, he'll yell out important news, like what Tyler Florence is cooking on AOL Food. (Hey, we have our priorities in this house.)

But I miss the Hot Topics. Still, I've found that my world has not stopped revolving. I have more time to goof off on the Internet and, oh yes! actually write. (Okay, I'm goofing off more than working on my next novel--but part of that goofing off also includes blog entries.)

I can't be the only one who's not up to speed on who's who or who's in whose bedrooms, etc.
Anybody else as uninformed as me?

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: "Can I Get It From The Library?"

by guest blogger Kate Flora

Pet peeves--you want pet peeves? How about people you've known for years who still begin conversations with, "How's the book doing? I haven't read you, but...." Or who ask about your books and then say, "Can I get them at the library?"

I learned, when people ask that to say, "You can get it at the bookstore." And I learned (I hesitate to share this, but it is important) to end my library and bookstore talks with the following:

I've been in this business since 1994, and over the years, I have seen a lot of really good writers get dropped by their publishers and disappear, so their books can no longer be read. A lot of readers don't realize that the way we survive is by our book sales. Our publishers may like it that we're good writers and good speakers, but for them, it's the bottom line that counts: If we don't sell books, we don't continue to get published.

If I'm in a library, I will often say...I know we're in a library and you can read the book for free, but if you don't support the less well-known authors, your own choices get more limited.

In a bookstore, I often point out that the bookstore is going out of their way to support this event for their readers, and that they, too, survive on their book sales.

Occasionally I'll get a question that makes me go the whole nine yards, and explain that our publishers expect us to do all the marketing, event arranging, publicity, write our own newsletters, print our own postcards, etc. Readers are often shocked by this.

A paperback costs no more than a few cups of Starbucks coffee. A hardback a little more, but it gives many more hours of pleasure. When you're done, you can share it with a friend or give it to your library. So please, seriously consider buying a book. If you don't buy mine, please give your support to some other author. And help keep us published.

Once readers understand how critical book sales are, some of them really go the whole nine yards themselves. Kind readers have made my books, especially the anthologies, hostess gifts or holiday gifts, or sponsored my books at their libraries by buying and donating a copy. These are such painless ways to support an author. And how about this? An apple pie or apple cake and a copy of one of Sheila Connolly's Apple Orchard mysteries? A small, bow-tied packet of Lorna Barrett's Bookstown Mysteries in a basket with cookies and good cocoa? Wed your creativity to ours, and everyone wins.
So what's bugging you today?
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Kate Flora is not only a terrific author, but she's also co-editor of the new anthology, Quarry, stories of crime in New England from Level Best Books. Don't miss Kate's 7th Thea Kozak novel, Stalking Death, soon to be available in soft cover.

THANK YOU!

Does the picture on the left tell you anything?

Sunday, November 22nd, BOOKPLATE SPECIAL will debut on the New York Times Bestsellers list for mass market paperbacks at #20. (Bookmarked for Death only made it to #30.)

Can you say: "YEEEEE HAAAA!!!!"

What? You still haven't bought your copy? Well, come on -- help me move up the list to #19 -- or even (heaven forbid) #15!!!

I'm pretty chuffed about all this, but that doesn't mean I can slack off. I'm working, Working, STILL WORKING on the first Victoria Square mystery (yipe! the deadline is next week!!!) and will jump right into the next Booktown Mystery (which doesn't yet have a title).

So I'll be busy, Busy, BUSY for quite a while.

But I did want to say thank you to everyone who has already bought the book.

From The Heart Of The Home

Okay, Thanksgiving is still more than a week away, and maybe I do rush the Christmas season--but, hey, the happiest times of most children's lives is Christmas. The anticipation is monumental. Was it just greed or was it the absolute joy of everything about Christmas that made a kid's heart soar?
For me, as an adult, getting into the Christmas season means two things: music and -- surprise! --books.

I have a lot of Christmas (coffee-table) books, but my all-time-favorite is the very first I ever got. It was a gift from my Mum, which makes it even more special. It's Susan Branch's "Christmas From The Heart Of The Home." Unfortunately, it's out of print (Yes, YOU MISSED IT) -- but Susan's "keepsake" version "Christmas Joy" is still available. (Hey, and just to name drop, Susan is now my friend on Twitter. She has ACTUALLY tweeted TO me, how amazingly COOL is that???)

Usually my Mum signs the books she gives to me (for birthdays and Christmas), but for some reason she forgot to do that with this one (and with my very favorite decorating book, The Romance of County Inns by Gail Grecco). I can't tell you how many times I've read Christmas From The Heart Of The Home--not just glanced at the pretty pages (Susan illustrates all her books with charming watercolors), but READ THE ENTIRE BOOK--ALL THE RECIPES and everything!!! At least three or four times every Christmas season for at least ten, if not fifteen, years. (I've made quite a few of the recipes, too!) I love the art. I love the recipes--but most of all, I love the suggestions on celebrating.

But one of the things I love most is that Susan wrote about Christmas on Martha's Vineyard. I love new England, and one of the things on my "bucket list" is the Nantucket Stroll." Since I first read Susan's books, I've longed to visit both Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket--off season. (Have I mentioned how much I hate crowds?)

It will probably never happen, so maybe one holiday I'll spend the holiday at my family's summer cottage. To do that, the place would have to be winterized. Our neighbor, who winterized a summer cottage to make a year-round home said it was THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF HIS LIFE, and in retrospect wished he'd razed the place and started from scratch. There's so much of my Dad in that place (he gutted it and did a total remodel and addition), that I don't think I could do that.

So, as in years before, I will (okay, already have) delve into my copy of Christmas From The Heart Of The Home and dream about spending the holiday on the shore. (And maybe down a couple of "Peach Cream" drinks--recipe on page 31...just in case you'd like to join me.)

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: A bad day at the grocery store

My friend, and fellow author, Kate Flora has had a bad time at the grocery store. Here's a few of her peeves:

• People in grocery stores who let their kids eat stuff and leave the
  empty package in the grocery cart. Nasty! Often they also leave dirty
  napkins behind, too.


• Grocery store checkers who put the milk on top of the bread, so the loaf comes out squashed flat. They also bruise the pears, smash the chips, mangle cookies and put the salad in sideways so it spills lettuce and oil all over the other stuff.


• Grocery store checkers who think you have to cram as much as possible into a bag, so when you try to carry it inside, the bag splits and everything falls on the cement garage floor.


• Grocery store checkers who persist in carrying on a conversation with someone else the whole time they're ringing up your order.

And what's bugging YOU today?
------------------------------------
Kate Flora is not only a terrific author, but she's also co-editor of the new anthology, Quarry, stories of crime in New England from Level Best Books. Don't miss Kate's novel, Stalking Death, soon to be available in soft cover.

Let Me Eat Cake!

Yesterday my Mum went to her monthly knitting group. It was her turn to take dessert. With all the chaos that's been part of our lives for the past four months, her knitting friends weren't sure she'd make the meeting, so someone else baked. That meant leftovers.

Guess who was the happy recipient of said leftovers? (Her initials are L.B.)

It so happens, that my mother had purchased one of Wegmans' ULTIMATE WHITE CAKEs. They're pretty yummy. I think they could go with a little less sugar in the frosting, but that's just my opinion. (And I could be wrong. They've already had--and addressed--some complaints about there being too much frosting, but can you EVER get too much frosting?)

We ate the cake for breakfast.

What? Breakfast?

Yeah, who says you HAVE to eat two eggs and a side of bacon? (Although you could probably entice me to do so if YOU do the cooking.) Or a bowl of steaming oatmeal (about as inviting as catching a cold while in Hawaii). Kids get fed bowls of sugar in disguise as breakfast cereal, so why not cake for breakfast?

I remember once I took a visiting friend to the cafeteria at Kodak for a hearty breakfast. This cafeteria was feeding guys who'd been working the night shift and they were hungry. We feasted on pork chops and scalloped potatoes at 8:15 a.m. and it was absolutely delicious. (And we didn't need a big lunch, either.)

I think people (including myself) should feel free to eat whatever they want at any meal. So why don't I? Maybe it's all those commercials I've been subjected to over the years about eating a "good breakfast." If it's the most important meal of the day, shouldn't we be eating the biggest meal then (or at least a bigger portion of the daily intake and then slack off at night so we can digest in peace)?
From now on, I'm going to eat whatever I like for breakfast.

Maybe.

How about you?

Pet Peeve Thursday: Whatever Happened to "THROW THE BUMS OUT?"

This past Tuesday was election day. For most of the summer the local newspaper has been awash with letters from disgruntled voters, complaining about the problems both in Albany (our state capital) and here in the Rochester area. It costs more to live in New York than even parts of California. (We're running neck and neck.) For all our tax dollars spent we still have roads and bridges that are falling apart, school children graduating with reading skills at the elementary level (if they even achieve that), and jobs evaporating like a puddle on a hot day in July.

The problem? Too many of our elected officials would rather listen to the voices of special interests than listen to the problems of their constituents. They seem to spend their years in office scheming how to STAY in office and raising war chests of loot to keep themselves in office, so they can continue to line their pockets from the lobbying of special interest groups.

The answer? Vote them all out and start fresh. That's the only way to clean house with new people to change the way our government is run.

And what does the voting population do? They vote these politicians (who are mostly white and male) in again and again and again. And then months from now those same voters will be complaining that nothing ever changes, that our tax money is wasted, and we're taxed to death, and still they won't see that they are part of the problem.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
 
But before you do: What's Bugging YOU Today?

I Only Read Good Reviews

Okay, that subject line is a lie. I read the bad ones and cry. But I don't have to cry about the reviews I've received so far for Bookplate Special. (I'm sure disgruntled readers will be posting some pretty nasty ones on Amazon any minute now.)

I don't usually brag (okay, not TOO much at least) about good reviews for my books, but this one really tickled me. (I mean, I love the crack about the plantar's wart.) The Feathered Quill Book Review site is relatively new, and I'm thrilled they wanted to review Bookplate Special. In case you're interested, click here to see the review. Not only that, but they also interviewed! Click here for that, too.

The Richmond-Times Dispatch ran a review on Sunday on their Book Blog, In it they said, "Barrett is skilled at making her characters flawed and fully believable. This book-based book is a perfect autumn read — right down to those smashed pumpkins."
Blush. Then again, as I myself am pretty flawed, maybe it's just easier to make my characters reflect my shortcomings. Either way, it seems like people are liking the book. And I hope they'll take seriously some of the themes featured--like going green and donating to food pantries.

Okay, I have a few more stops on the blog tour, and I'll be plugging them in the next couple of weeks, but after that--and inbetween--it's back to tomfoolery and tommyrot!

I promise.

DIG IN to BOOKPLATE SPECIAL!

What do you get with murder, good eating (with recipes), and a phantom pumpkin smasher? Get ready to chow down on one honey of a BOOKPLATE SPECIAL, which is officially released today!

In BOOKPLATE SPECIAL, Tricia has put up—and put up with—her uninvited college roommate for weeks. In return, Pammy, has stolen $100, among other things. But the day she’s kicked out, Pammy’s found dead in a dumpster, leaving loads of questions unanswered. Like what was she foraging for? Did her killer want it too? To piece the case together, Tricia will have to dive in head-first.…

You can check out an excerpt on my website--click here!

I'll be signing in a bunch of places in the Rochester, NY area in November and December. For a list, click here!

Can't make it to Rochester (and let's face it--we are kind of off the beaten track)? I'd love to send you a bookplate for your copy of Bookplate Special. Just send an email with your name and address to contest @ LornaBarrett.com (to avoid spam, I put spaces in that email address--just take them out, and it'll go through fine).

Rolex, anyone?

It seems like every week I'm being spammed by a new schemer. At first, it was "male enhancement." And don't get me wrong, I'm STILL getting a lot of those kinds of emails. And over the summer, I was getting a lot of solicitations for watches--all kinds of watches. Cheap ones, expensive one, and some of them even came from an address from my own web site. (And believe me, this isn't the first time those addresses have been hijacked. I'm sure there are people in Timbuktu cursing the name Lorraine Bartlett for being inundated with offers of watches, drugs, and god knows what else.)

For the past couple of weeks, I've been bombarded with offers of fake diplomas from some pretty prestigious universities. Hey, with just giving up my credit card number, I could become an instant graduate of Harvard, Yale, Princeton or Smith, and without the bother of attending classes or handing in homework assignments. Pretty cool, huh?
No. Pretty pathetic.

People who fall for these scams are pretty stupid. Sure, put that institution of higher learning on your resume and you might get a call back and maybe even an interview. Okay, some people have even gotten a job with phoney credentials, but somewhere down the line the truth will come out and then humiliation and the unemployment line will be in that person's future. (And try getting a good job after that. Can you say "Walmart Greeter?")

Unlike most people, I check my spam filter several times a day, and that's mainly because I have mail forwarded from my web sites. Some of it is real mail I want to read, and without going to the site itself to retrieve it. But it sure is a pain in the neck to wade through the other crap.

I wish everyone would check their spam filters on a regular basis. You might also find important emails lurking in there. Like maybe newsletters you've signed up for? Many people sign up for my newsletter and then complain they don't get it. Why? Caught in their spam filter. (I advise people who sign up to add my newsletter e-mail to their address books.) And is just so happens -- I sent out my newsletter this morning.
How often do you check YOUR spam filter?

FIRST SIGHTING!!!

It was "dump your old pharmaceuticals" day at my local Wegmans, and boy did our family accumulate a LOT of unused drugs. (It's a shame they can't be given to people who can't afford them. But, up in smoke they'll go.)

So while I was there, I decided to check out the book section and HELLO!!! There it was, Bookplate Special. Three copies--which means one has already been sold. I did a little happy dance and called to a woman who was walking by, "It's My Book!" like I'd never seen a copy of my book for sale before.

What the heck! I'm happy!

If you're local, please check out your Wegmans grocery stores (and even if you're in PA, VA, or NJ, too!) and maybe buy a copy? :)

Weeee! you never get over seeing YOUR new book on a shelf in a store.
Glee!!!

Oops--missed my cue

I've had so much on my mind lately, I forgot that yesterday kicked off my (admittedly limited) blog tour for my new book, BOOKPLATE SPECIAL. I was interviewed by Avery Aames of the Mystery Lovers Kitchen blog. (And I shared a yummy recipe for mini spinach quiches--definitely NOT diet food, but delicious.)

So, if you want to read my pearls of wisdom (?) check it out. (Scroll down to Sunday's entry. Then scroll back up and read Avery's current post. Then scroll down again and read everybody else's posts. They've shared some really cool recipes.)

I've got a number of stops to make on this make-shift blog tour, most in November. I've got them listed on my web site, but will try to mention them here as well.

Yikes! Just seven days until Bookplate Special is released. (I'm not ready!!!)

I MEANT to grow them that small . . .

The veggie garden is done for 2009.  The other day I picked the last of the beans (and what a magnificent crop it was), the peppers, and the lone squash.  The tomatoes were history about a month ago.  The heirlooms succumbed to the blight--so we didn't get to eat even one of them, but the celebrity tomatoes were magnificent.  Oh, they got the blight, too, but they were made of hardier stuff and if you cut out the black bit, were just fine to eat.  And of course, Mr. Groundhog completely destroyed the Brussels Sprouts and broccoli, so I won't even go into that heartache (again).

But getting back to the peppers . . . we got one full-sized (and that was on the small side) pepper, which I allowed to fully ripen.  It was a beauty and I lovingly tended it for about 6 weeks.  One other plant produced a pepper, but it rotted on the stem.  Then in September, the second plant suddenly bloomed and the next thing you knew, we had three tiny peppers. 

There's the rub--they were TINY peppers.  And so was the acorn squash.  I got that as a freebie from the local nursery.  We bought some annuals and they gave away one free squash plant.  Unfortunately, I put the little squash in the driest part of the yard.  I faithfully watered it, but the water seemed to flow downhill away from the squash.  Still, I got some beautiful glads, so I can't complain too much.

Hubby couldn't get over how darned cute that little squash was.  To convey the size, I figured I'd better include something to give it scale.  We haven't eaten the squash yet--and I wonder will we get get a teaspoon each--but it is awfully cute, don't you agree?

Was it something I said?

The other day I got a startling phone call from my literary agent:  she's leaving the business.
Talk about a shock!  There's a lot going on in my life right now--most of it not very good--so this piece of news was not welcome. 

I've never actually met my agent in person, but we've exchanged hundreds of e-mails and talked on the phone more than a few times, and she is the reason I am where I am today.  She was my fourth agent.  She took a chance on me, she's gone over my contracts with a fine tooth comb and fought for me.  I'm extremely grateful for everything she's done for me . . . and heartbroken that she's leaving the business.

This is the second agent I've had who's decided to leave the business.  That two of my agents should leave the business makes me wonder . . . is it me?

Nah!  I'm just being paranoid.

The silver lining in all this is that I don't have to go looking for a new agent (which is a roller coaster ride, more spills than thrills).  My agent's partner is taking on a portion of her clients, and I'm one of them.  My friends who have this particular agent love her, and sing her praises.  I feel very lucky she's taking me on and feel confident we'll have a long and happy business relationship.

I'm also very impressed with the way my current agent and my new agent work.  When my third agent left the business, I heard it secondhand.  She didn't bother to tell her clients she'd quit until weeks after the event.  But on Wednesday, I spoke to my current and new agent within an hour of each other. They were both concerned that there'd be a smooth transition and that their clients would be happy--the hallmark of professionalism.

Too many things seem to be changing in my life all at once.  So what could've been a negative experience is looking pretty positive.  It's quite a relief.

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: Whatever happened to maternity clothes?

There seems to be a baby explosion in my town.  Everywhere I go I see young pregnant women, but none of them seem to be wearing maternity clothes.  You know, baggy clothing that actually looks comfortable instead of tight-fitting fabric stressed at the seams.

These soon-to-be mothers must be on a tight budget, because they're wearing everything they wore before they became pregnant, and it's not attractive.  This lets-not-wear-maternity-clothes trend may have started when Demi Moore posed pregnant and nude on the cover of Vanity Fair back in 1991.  It "sparked controversy," but I think it made a lot of pregnant women feel beautiful.  The problem is--not all pregnant women LOOK like Demi Moore.

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, with my Crocs and sweats, but comfortable clothing will always be my first choice.

And what's bugging YOU today?

I FEEL SO ALONE . . .

Every year I go through this:  I feel regret that I didn't go to a conference.  This week is Bouchercon--the BIG mystery conference.  This year it's in Indianapolis, which is drivable for me. 

There are a lot of reasons I decided not to go all those many months ago, and if I'd signed up, I would've had to cancel for personal reasons anyway.  But still--all my online pals are either on their way to Indianapolis, or there a day early for the big Sisters In Crime event.  The Guppies will be gathering for lunch on Friday (I missed their gathering in Washington in May because I had lunch with my editor, and I wouldn't have missed that for the world--but I did miss not connecting with my Guppy sisters en mass).

Already my friends are posting on Facebook and Twitter.  I read their reports and feel wistful.  And yet, I decided NOT to go.

I hate crowds.  Bouchercon is CROWD CENTRAL.  When I went in 2006, I felt so overwhelmed.  I was in the overflow hotel two blocks from the conference hotel, and when I escaped, I escaped for hours--not a few minutes.  I had to haul books up and down a hill.  It was awful.  (Not that our hotel was awful.  It was nice.  And they even gave us a "stay one night free" coupon, which I gave to one of my Guppy sisters who lived in Wisconsin.)

I wasn't sure I could afford it.  (Turns out, I could!)

I'm going to jump back into the WIP today and try not to think of all my friends having fun while I'm working hard and not having fun.

Bummer.

My Artist Date

If you've read Julia Cameron's THE ARTIST'S WAY, you know about artist dates.  Basically, it's doing something you enjoy that refills your creative well.
Saturday, I needed an artist date, but I wasn't sure I had the patience to break out of my routine and do something.  I've been wanting to get a picture frame for several weeks, and decided that I could do that and squeeze in an artist date at the same time.  So I headed off to Joann, Etc. and their picture frame department.

I love to hit craft stores.  I love looking at all the scrapbooking stuff (even though I don't do scrapbooks), and the rubber stamps, the papers, the Christmas Ornaments (they're already 30% off at Joann, Etc.) the candles, the seasonal fabrics (even though I don't sew), etc.

I usually buy my picture frames at yard sales.  But finding frames you can hang are a challenge.  Most of them are "table top" frames.  And, Joann, Etc. only had table top frames.  Bummer.  So off I went to A.C. Moore down the road.  This store has a different feel, and is smaller, but they seem to have a lot of different stuff.  I totally resisted the urge to check out the wedding aisle--it's been 18 years since I got married, but I just love looking at all the wedding stuff--the Jordan Almonds, the netting, etc.  And I had to avoid the pen aisle, too, else I'd be heading home with a ton more gel pens (that I don't need).   They had a great assortment of frames and I found the perfect one for my photo.
 And, luckily, it was on sale for 40% off.  Win-win!

So where do you go for your artist dates?

KEEPING TRACK OF THINGS

It's no secret that I have a memory like a sieve.  It's just that I have so much on my mind, I can't keep track of every single detail of my life.  Especially my books.  That's why I've created a Bible for each of my series.  (That's what they call such a document in "the trade.") Okay, I'm behind on the Jeff Resnick Bible.  Just haven't gotten around to it.  Besides, I know Jeff, Richard, and Brenda better than I know myself.

My Booktown Bible has come in really handy when I need to remember what color eyes Mr. Everett has or the name of Tricia's attorney (who hasn't shown up since the first book--but needed to be mentioned in the fourth book).

I'm currently working on my Victoria Square Bible.  It consists of a list of characters, their traits and a description (however brief) of what they look like, a list of businesses, facts about the little town of Jones Mill (which may or may not be changed by the final draft--I'm leaning toward changing it.  One caveat:  it's got to have "Mill" as the second word -- but I'm open to ANY suggestion), etc.

Besides being a vital aid to writing the subsequent books, creating this bible is a great way to actually keep from writing.
What are you doing to keep from working on your work-in-progress?

In My Hot Little Hands . . .

The doorbell rang a while ago.  That always sends at least two of the cats into a frenzy.  YIKES--STRANGERS!  Now why they are terrified is beyond me.  For one thing, we don't, as a rule, have serial killers visiting.  In fact, usually we only have family visiting.  And those family members are known to them and feed them.  (Then again, when they visit, they just put the key in the door and DON'T ring the doorbell.  Maybe the cats are smarter than I give them credit for.)

Usually, it's just a delivery.  No person comes in.  They just dump a box or envelope on the step and take off again.  That was the case this morning when the Fed-X guy rang the bell.  And inside that familiar white bubble-envelope was one copy of my next book, Bookplate Special, and three cover flats.

Yee-ha!  It's a real book!

Years and years ago, my friend Doranna Durgin told me that getting that first copy of your book never gets old.  She was right.  When Frank yelled, "Fed-X man!" I knew what it would be and I ran to the front door and frantically cut open the envelope -- and -- yes, did a little Snoopy Happy Dance.

The rest of you don't have to wait too long to get the book, either.  It will be released on November 3rd.  I'm anticipating that it'll start showing up in bookstores a week or two before that date.  This book is special to me.  I got to write about something that's important and hopefully it'll be a teaching moment, but not a preachy one.

And speaking of the book, I just got a copy of the review that's in Romantic Times.  Of Bookplate Special, they said:  "The third top-notch Booktown mystery is a cleverly plotted cozy with everything a reader could want: mystery books, delicious food and bad guys. With its bookstore setting and small-town charm, this series is bound to be a favorite for cozy readers."
I'd say that was worthy of a Snoopy Happy Dance.

I want my cuppa tea!!!

Three months ago I had a violent stomach bug.  I never spent a night puking for so long and so hard in my life.  The next day, I lay on the couch eating (saltless) Saltines and watching old movies because my stomach was so upset.

I figured it would go away in a day or two.  And it didn't.  And didn't.

For weeks, I kept discovering foods I dared not eat for getting killer heartburn.  Anything with tomatoes.  Anything with vinegar.

Cutting out tomatoes was tough.  A lot of what I eat has tomatoes as a base.  So I ate my spaghetti with Parmesian cheese and herbs (as my friend Lee Rowan used to make--and probably still does).  I had no Indian food for two l-o-n-g months.  Nothing seemed to work for me, despite the bottles of Malox I drank, and the hundreds of antacid tablets I downed, until I found Prelief.  (I should take out stock in the company.)  I'd down a couple (okay, maybe as many as five) of these little white pills and it neutralized the acid.  Gradually, my stomach healed enough to reintroduce these acidic foods.

Except for one thing:  tea.

Now, for as long as I can remember, I have started my day with a cup (or pot) of tea.  I had to give up caffeine back in the 1980s, and learned to love decaf tea.  (Okay, ENGLISH decaf tea.  There's a big difference in taste.  American teas are pretty wimpy.)  Even with seven Prelief tablets, nothing seemed to help.  To add insult to injury, I'd purchased 11 boxes of my favorite Typhoo tea (that's 880 tea bags) just about the time this all started.

I was letting myself have one cup of tea a week to see if the old stomach could handle it.  Usually I choose Mondays, figuring I'd have the rest of the week to recover before I tried again.  It was only a week ago that I had a cup of tea and didn't get heartburn.  That made me braver.  I tried again (only that time I didn't have anything to eat with the tea).  Ugh.  Heartburn.  So I tried with food (and Prelief) again.  Ah, success!  Yesterday, I had tea with just Prelief.  Yea!  No heartburn.  And I've done it again today.  (Okay, it's kind of early, but I've got my fingers crossed.)

I can't tell you how wonderful it has been to have that one cup of tea most mornings for the last week.  Oh how I've missed it.  But it's only one cup.  I can't wait until I can get back to drinking a whole pot of tea and without taking Prelief first.  On that day I will celebrate--with another cup of tea.

Have you had to give up something you love to eat or drink, and how did you handle it?

Light My Fire

Okay, not THAT fire -- but will somebody please light a fire under my butt?  For the past week I've been dabbling in so many things, trying to get stuff accomplished, and definitely NOT succeeding.

As my Dad would say, my "head is full of tommyrot."  I have so much on my mind that I seem to flit from one thing to another leaving a trail of things undone.  I have the best of intentions, but I also get easily distracted.  Oh, I better do a load of laundry.  So I do.  And then I forget about it and three days later I have to wash it again because it stinks. 

I have e-mails that need answering, and I mark them "keep as new" on my account, and then they get further down on the list and I forget about them until I have so many emails I have to start deleting and then--oh my!--there's that one I meant to answer two weeks ago.

I'm drowning in minutiae. 

How did I ever accomplish anything when I had a full-time job?

Rain Rain Go Away--NOW!!!

We had a very WET spring and early summer.  And then we had a very hot, dry late summer.  And now we're into fall.  A very WET fall.

When they threw the switch from summer to fall, they also threw the perpetual GLOOM switch, too.  It rained a good portion of the weekend (okay, if it wasn't raining, it was at least extremely dreary).  It rained really hard several times yesterday, with gusts of wind that ranged from 25-50 miles, depending on where you were in the area.  It knocked my bean poles down (but I triumphed over nature and tied them up again).

This morning I awoke to the sound of rain on the roof.  Now, I happen to LOVE the sound of rain on the roof.  But then I had to get up.  I look out my office window and it's gray out.  The big silver pool cover is now on the pool (looking like a giant piece of duct tape) and the water is puddling on top.  (We'll probably have to pump it off a couple of times before winter comes.)

It's windy out.  It's cold.  It's the dark side of autumn.

Hurry spring.

And what's the weather like where you are?

PET PEEVE THURSDAY--Sodium in processed food

One of the good things our government has actually done for us is mandate nutrition labels on our food. The problem is--is anybody reading that material besides me? I know members of my family don't because they haven't got a clue about the amount of sodium they're ingesting.

On one of my diets, low these many years ago, I learned to substitute pepper for salt. They told us (was it Diet Workshop, or Nutrisystem . . . one of them, anyway) that SALT MAKES YOU RETAIN WATER, and water is heavy. Fine. I got used to skim milk and dumping half a shaker of pepper on my food and learned to actually love it.

I don't cook with salt. I even cut the amount of salt in the recipes I include in my books because YOU DON'T NEED AS MUCH AS EVERYONE SEEMS TO THINK YOU DO.
That's why I'm really rather horrified by the amount of salt in any processed food. I used to eat curried beans. I'd buy a generic can of black beans or black-eyed peas, dump them in a saucepan, add some curry paste, heat through, serve on rice--and voila! A quick lunch.  Not anymore.  Now I buy dried beans and cook them in the crock pot (without adding any salt).  Of course I have enough to feed an army, but luckily I like beans.

And have you noticed that low-sodium canned foods (soup, in particular) is usually DOUBLE the price of "regular" canned food?  (It is at my grocery store.) How does this encourage the population at large (especially in these economic times) to lower their sodium intake?

I keep seeing articles in the newspaper Living section about the need to cut sodium in our diets because it's killing us.  An enormous amount of our population--including children--is on meds to lower their blood pressure.  And why?  Because of the amount of sodium they're ingesting.

A big part of the problem is fast food.  For instance, according to Wikipedia, a Big Mac has 42% of your daily requirement of sodium. (There's a reason I stay away from these places.)  What about the fries and the rest of the food someone typically ingests on any given day?  I've also given up eating any restaurant soup, too.  Why?  Too salty!

The government seems to want to regulate everything else in our lives--why not the amount of sodium food processors are allowed to add to food?

Salt, salt, salt, salt, S-A-L-T!!!

I know one thing--I don't want to have a stroke, so I watch my sodium intake.  Everybody should.
And what's bugging YOU today?

And in between promo I have to do what???

Okay, it's been 12 days since I turned in my last book and time to jump back into the book that is due on December 1st.

But wait--I've got a book coming out on November 3rd and I must promote!

For the past 5-6 weeks, I've spend every minute of my (so-called) free time signing bookmarks.  I signed 1400 of the new bookmarks and 840 of my "combo" (listing the first two books in the series) bookmarks. These bookmarks were destined for wonderful independent bookstores.  These are the people on the front lines who are handselling my books. (Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!)  Of course, there are many chain booksellers handselling my books, but they haven't made themselves known to me or requested bookmarks.

Yesterday I took my second HUGE tote bag full of packages to the Post Office.  You can't tell me they're losing money--not with all I've spent this year.

Over the weekend, I signed 112 postcards (adding three stickies--address label, message label, and polar bear stamp).  These are for bookclubs.  I've still got another 469 to sign and sticker for my faithful readers.

Can you say WRITERS CRAMP???

So far I've got four blog posts written for my blog tour.  (Okay, so I only have three dates set up--I hope there's still time to find more.)  I have five of six weekends booked for promotion in November and December (and I'm trying to decide if I should go to the CrimeBake conference on the week I don't have anything planned).

And sometime during all this promo -- I have to finish another book. (The first in the Victoria Square Mysteries.)  Luckily, the book is in good shape--but still, it needs work.

Is it any wonder I'm yanking my hair out in hanks?

WHO THREW THE SWITCH?

Holy Crap!  It's fall!

I mean, I waited a-l-l winter for spring, which came and went, and then it was summer.  Ahhh...summer.  The roses bloom.  You plant cosmos (which always disappoint me) and other annuals, plus the veggie crop (we've had green beans for dinner almost every night for at least four weeks) and now the counter is overflowing with tomatoes.

But sitting out on the enclosed porch in the evening is getting to be a tad uncomfortable.  Instead of wearing T-shirts, it's suddenly sweatshirt weather.  (And my big blue sweater has come back out of the closet.  Heck, I'm wearing it as I type this!)  I've also taken to (gasp) wearing my slippers, because my feet are cold.

The catnip is starting to shrivel up.  (Chester doesn't mind.  He prefers dried to fresh catnip.)  The perky black-eyed Susans aren't so perky anymore.  In fact, they're turning a disgusting brown.  The arborvitae is turning orange--its version of "needle cast," as it gets ready to toss it's old leaves (?) onto the pool cover.

And today the calendar confirmed it:  the first day of fall.  Next thing you know, the leaves will fall off the trees en mass.  We'll be raking until our hands flap with blisters.  It'll rain five days out of seven.

Snow can't be far behind.

Bummer.