Catching up! 109, 110, 111, 112

Day 109: We had hoped to go sledding but there's not much snow here, so the kids and I quickly organized a neighborhood ice skating party at the rink Clark's team skates out of. I'm thankful that Anna and her kids and Sarah and her kids plus "little Anna" and Emma were able to join us, in spite of the late notice.

Day 110: I'm grateful we made it to and from M's riding lesson before the snow machine really cranked up. We didn't end up getting that much--only about four inches--but at times it was coming down pretty hard.

Day 111: I mostly got things I needed for Christmas this year, like a new pair of boots for my morning walk, but I also got iPod speakers and they have changed my life, I tell you--or at least my attitude. I've been cheerfully (cheerfully!) cleaning out cupboards in the kitchen while I listen to podcasts of This American Life. I'm thankful for my iPod speakers.

Day 112: I've been feeling dizzy and headachy for the past few days and whatever it was has finally passed. I'm thankful the room has stopped spinning. It makes navigating daily life so much easier.

Day 108

Today brought bright sunshine and brilliant blue skies--a rarity at this time of year here. Happily, M. had a playdate in the 'hood. I'm grateful I had a good excuse to get out for two walks this afternoon, walking her both to and from her friend's house.

Day 107 (late): Christmas

Coffee! Coffee cake, walking boots, dark chocolate, healthy and appreciative children, healthy and appreciative parents, warm house, good book, modest fire, SUNSHINE, a two-person nap, a solitary stroll, phone calls from family, creative cooking, exciting movie, goodnight hugs. Peace.

Day 106 (late)

Christmas Eve Day: Four years ago today was the first time Clark ever skated. It was Madeline's idea that we commemorate the day by returning to the rink for family skate today. By lunch the plan was falling apart. Brad and Madeline had a tiff, so she was off sulking. Clark had decided that he didn't want to skate unless it was "stick and puck" rather than family skate, which it wasn't. And I didn't feel like dragging everyone along on a "we're going to have fun, or else!" outing. I'm grateful Brad somehow rallied us all and we all skated our way to a genuinely enjoyable afternoon.

Also, I'm thankful my parents were able to spend Christmas Eve with us. We went to the unrehearsed nativity pageant at our church, which is always a little chaotic, but of course even a chaotic family service can be exceptionally meaningful when you're standing between your children and your parents, singing, "Silent night, holy night. Son of God, loves pure light. . ."

Day 105 (late)

Sunday. Bitterly cold and windy--blizzard conditions. I'm thankful we don't have to go anywhere today.

Day 104

I'm grateful that athough it took him a day and a half longer, an unexpected overnight in Milwaukee, and a rental car rather than a flight, Brad finally made it home from NYC. Let the holidays begin!

Day 103: 12/20

(This post is going to make me seem much older than I am, so I just want to say that I've had bunions since I was 20. I distinctly remember my soon-to-be MIL pointing them out to me: "Christine! You already have bunions?!" I always just thought I had funny-shaped feet.)

So. Anyway. Two years ago, I had a double bunionectomy; for those of you who are blissfully bunion-free, this means I had bunions removed from both feet at the same time. (My intent was to be efficient.) Conventional wisdom is that the recovery process is long and painful, but I didn't really know what that meant. I knew I'd be off my feet completely for at least six weeks. I didn't know that a full year later, I'd still have constant awareness that I had feet. Every step I took would make me think, "Oh! I have feet!" I used to watch others and envy them their lack of awareness of their own feet. As Bill Stumpf or someone else famous once said, "Comfort is the absence of awareness."

I'm grateful that at some point in the last six months or so, either I became accustomed to the pain or it went away, and I no longer think about my feet more than once or twice a day.

Day 102

My kids have finished with exams. I'm grateful for their willingness to study hard and, as we say around here, hang with the program.

Day 101

Miraculously, the sun came out for a while this afternoon. Not wanting to miss the moment, I grabbed the dog and headed out for a short walk that took us past Lynn's house. Essie saw us from the window and started barking, which made Lynn look out and see us, and she called out that if I could wait a minute, she and Essie would come, too. I'm grateful for the unexpected bright spot in my day of a walk with my friend. It was short, but between Lynn, our silly dogs, and the sunshine, it was enough to lift my flagging spirits during exam week.

Day 100

One hundred days of gratitude. Kind of like 100 Years of Solitude, only not as long or as lonely.

The van is making funny noises and has been for a few days. Today when I picked up the van pool gang at school, all of us noticed that the van smelled like burning rubber--not good. I'm grateful the van made it all the way home safely and then (once the shop boys said they'd fit it in) to the shop.

Day 99

Oil, soy sauce, onion, pepper, garlic, lemon juice, worcestershire sauce--I was hurriedly pouring this concoction into a gallon ziplock bag when the bag flopped over and the marinade started to spill out. I'm grateful I caught the lip of the bag just in time. I'd already dropped a box of Quaker Oats and watched the oats scattered over my kitchen floor. At least that mess was easy to clean up.

Day 98

I'm grateful for toe-warmers and hand-warmers. I have poor circulation and my fingers get something I call "dead finger syndrome," where they turn completely white when they are cold and I lose all feeling in them. (A friend of mine tucks the warmers into her bra, but I haven't had to go that far yet.) My circulation has gotten worse as I've gotten older, and now I can't imagine getting through one of Madeline's winter riding lessons or an outing to the sledding hill without these. (Santa, are you listening? SANTA!)

It's a two-fer day: I'm also grateful that Brad ended up with the shoe phone at the glogg party. The shoe phone, which looks a lot like this, makes an appearance almost every year but he has never managed to snag it until now. He was ridiculously pleased, and I was pleased for him.

Day 97

Day 97: It was the worst of mornings. I was on carpool duty, and at the last minute, Madeline couldn't find her book, Clark couldn't find his swimsuit (which he was going to need right after school), and I couldn't find my keys. By turns, we snarled, snapped, and sulked. I was in no mood to do anyone any favors. "Natural consequences," I thought. "Let them learn from it." But as Clark was getting out of the van at school, he asked me nicely, "Mom, will you please look for my swimsuit?"

I did, natural consequences be damned for once. And while I'm not thrilled about where I found it--clean and neatly folded in the bottom of his laundry basket, under a mound of dirty clothes--I am grateful I was able to find it. That totally made his day, and that is not so easy to do anymore.

Day 96

Tonight was the holiday band concert and since the kids play in different bands, we were sitting on those bleachers for a long time. I'm grateful that I remembered to grab the stadium cushions, which I call "butt buffers" (no, not because they make your butt shiny but because they act as a buffer between butt and bleacher).

Day 95

The woman had already rolled up her pantleg and was examining her injuries when I walked into the restaurant's bathroom, so all I could see was the top of her gray head. "I took quite a spill out there on the ice," she said, dabbing at her skinned knee. It wasn't bleeding much, but I could tell from the quaver in her voice that the fall had shaken her. I felt the same way last week: one second I was upright and the next I was sprawled across the driveway of the used-to-be-called "drug house" with no memory of how I'd gone down. "I might have a band-aid in here somewhere," I said, pawing through my purse. I was grateful to eventually find one. I don't think it did much, but she seemed glad to have it, if only to protect her pants from the flecks of blood.

Day 94

From the moment we brought in our Christmas tree and propped it up in the stand, we were suspicious that something about it wasn't quite right. Even when it was still wrapped in its twine, it had a lobsided, pregnant shape. Now fully decorated, it is listing to the left. Heavily to the left, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. If it falls, it will fall onto the loveseat, which is "my spot" in the living room. I'm grateful it hasn't fallen. Grateful and stupid are not synonyms; even as I write this, I'm scoping out a new spot. . .

Day 93

Brad's new business launched today. Honestly--some days baking my Daily Bread is a piece of cake!

Day 92

It's tradition at the Kole Family Christmas that Grandpa and Grandma give bags of assorted homemade cookies to all the grandkids. I don't know why only the grandkids get them, but I know better than to complain (growing up on the farm, complainers got sent out to the fields to pick up rocks and I wouldn't put it past Dad to send me out there again). This year, however, my nephews Peter, Geoff, and Steve brought their girlfriends (all of whom happened to have the name Kate) and the girlfriends got bags of cookies, too.

Seeing my opportunity--these girls have no idea how good my Mom's homemade molasses cookies are--I pounced. "Hey, Kate," I said, to no Kate in particular. "I'll give you a buck for the molasses cookies in there." "No way," said the first Kate. "This is my stash for exam week." The second Kate offered to give them to me. In the end, I couldn't take advantage of her, though. I'm grateful that, just as we were leaving, Mom/Grandma slipped me a few molasses cookies on the sly. Otherwise I'd have to buy them off my kids--and they know they can get a lot more than a buck from me for those cookies.

Day 91

Brad told me later that Clark hadn't even wanted to go get the tree. "Can't you guys go without me?" But Brad persuaded him to make the trek to the Christmas tree farm with the rest of us. Once there, the kids had their annual snowball fight with each other and then, as is tradition, started lobbing snowballs at us. We ended up choosing a tree that's as prickly as a cactus. It's up now and decorated. It wasn't pleasant to deal with, but it's ours and we love it. There's an analogy here. I'm grateful for prickly things that bring beauty into our house--as long as you don't stand too close.

Day 90

To get through the winter, my girlfriends and I have devised a plan: Get together on a Friday afternoon at least once a month, before the kids get out of school, and watch a movie. Today we rented The Chorus, a terrific French film from 2004. And, because of a miscommunication via email in which Celaine promised a "French lunch" (when Lynn had really only intended to bring baguette and cheese), we ended up with a lovely French lunch, too! I'm grateful for the lunch and the fellowship that we had in front of a real fire on a gray afternoon, and I'm particularly grateful that The Chorus ended on a positive note (ha ha).

Day 89

While doing carpool today, I saw a dog dive into traffic where River Ave. and M-40 intersect. Then he dashed out, dodging cars as he went (and they, him) and I sighed with relief. But then he ran back in--and out. That dog had a death wish, I tell you! Or maybe he was just feeling ambivalent about life. Miraculously, he didn't get hit. I'm grateful that whatever person he belongs to was spared having a Christmas memory that included the death of his/her beloved dog.

Day 88

Two things about Madeline. First, she is looking to earn money and she loves to wrap presents, so I've hired her as my wrapping girl. Last night she did 11 presents for $3. I'm grateful for the help--plus, she's better at wrapping than I am.

Second, she just asked to use my computer to put something on hold online at the library. "You need your library card," I said.

"No, I don't," she said. "I have my code memorized." That code has 14 digits that were assigned randomly--not like her birthdate or anything. I'm grateful for Madeline's love of books and the library, which she uses so often that she knows her code. Plus when she smiles--when she really smiles--the world turns radiant.

Day 87

Mom always said (and says), "If you have your health, you have everything." I just got an email from Margaret saying Doug has been cancer-free for a year, so today Doug has everything. And Margaret has Doug! For these things, I'm grateful.

On Thomas Wolfe and Daily Bread

I've been reading Of Time and the River, and I came across a passage, a portion of which describes what I'm trying to do with Daily Bread: "[An artist's] life is soul-hydroptic with a quenchless thirst for glory, and his spirit tortured by the anguish of possession--the intolerable desire to fix eternally in the patterns of an indestructible form a single moment of man's living, a single moment of life's beauty, passion, and unutterable eloquence, that passes, flames and goes, slipping forever through our fingers with time's sanded drop, flowing forever from our desperate grasp even as a river flows and never can be held." (p. 551) I don't have "a quenchless thirst for glory," but I am rather keen on holding onto those small moments of living that, taken together, make up a life. That's what "baking bread" regularly is all about.

Day 86

This is the way writing a book goes for me. I show up at my desk every day at about the same time and I sit there and put words on a page and I do that day after day and sometimes it's fun but mostly it feels like a slog. And about two-thirds of the way through, the process feels even more arduous, and I'm positive the book will never get done, but I keep showing up, anyway, out of habit and because I already have too much time invested in it to quit. And then one day--suddenly, it seems, although how can that be?--I am done with the rough draft. Today was that day and I'm grateful to be done.

83, 84, 85. . .

Friday: It started innocently enough. I googled "fear of the dark AND children," which is legitimate research for the Mary Margaret Halloween book I'm working on at the moment. But one link led to another and suddenly I was watching this Paul Potts sings "Nessun Dorma" clip, which has NOTHING to do with the research question that made me open my browser to begin with. I'm grateful for the inspiration this unexpected detour brought to my day.

Saturday: Ann and I went to Vespers tonight. Music is one of the things that brings me to that place of "Emmanuel"--God with us--and I was grateful to experience that tonight.

Sunday: Brad's new business is within a few days of its launch. I don't know how it would've been ready without Lois's help with the content. I don't know why she was available to help him just when he needed the help most or why she agreed to use her week of vacation to work instead of Christmas shop, but I do know I'm extremely grateful. The content is now as strong as the design and the guts. All in all, the site is "coolio," as Madeline says. I'm grateful for Lois's ability to write well and write quickly, for her business savvy and methodical approach, and simply for her willingness to help.

Days 81 and 82

81: I'm grateful Clark got an A on his Spanish project.

82: My friend Lynn is a therapist. Her specialty is teenagers. I have a teenager. She knows him. Yesterday Lynn and I went for a long walk (for which we were underdressed, come to find out) and talked about motivation. As we walked through the cemetary, she reassured me. My teenager, she said, would be fine. I know this in my heart of hearts, but it never hurts to hear it from an expert.

Having a therapist friend who knows your teenager is a wonderful thing, and something to be grateful for.

Day 80

About 150 people, some of them my friends, lost their jobs today at the company where I used to work. My heart goes out to all of them. I think must be doubly hard when you lose a job at a great company: If you define it as great, that means you believe in it. And if you believe in it, you invest yourself in it fully. This is, of course, what makes the company great in the first place--engaged employees investing themselves fully. It'll probably be a rocky road for these folks for a while, but I truly believe everyone who lost their jobs will be okay in the end. The brand and name recogntion they worked so hard to build for the company will now work for them during their job search. And it should.

Having gone through all this a few years ago with my D.H., I'm grateful for the passing of time, and the perspective it brings.

Day 79

Okay, let's get right to it: I'm grateful my children went back to school today. I love them beyond comprehension, but the freelance life I lead already has so little structure that it's almost impossible to get any work done without the modicom of structure and rhythm provided by the school day.

When Clark and Madeline were in elementary school, it was because they needed me. Now, it's because they are interesting young adults and therefore distracting. It used to be they wanted me to play "restaurant" with them and order pretend food that they could cook and serve and (Clark's favorite part) charge me for. Now that movies no longer have to be rated G, now that the stores we shop in have my size, as well as girl sizes, now that my kids like going to coffee shops, I want to play with them. It's like playing hooky--and I don't even mind much when Clark walks two steps ahead of me pretending he doesn't know me. All this is fine for family bonding but not for productivity. "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."--Ecclesiastes 3:1.

Days 76, 77, 78

Because the Bad Puppy has been so bad when we're not in the house (making the kitchen counter her personal snack bar and sneaking up to Madeline's bed to nap), we've resorted to crating her. On Friday, we spent the afternoon in front of a fire at Doug and Kristine's and then went straight to Clark's hockey game, and we were gone longer than we should have been if you're the dog that's been left behind in a crate. By the time we got back, her nose was pressed up against the crate door and when I opened it, she didn't even pause to greet me--she just dashed to the back door and outside to do her business. I'm grateful she was able to hold it until we arrived.

Saturday evening we went to Lois's Thanksgiving Leftovers Party, where Kristin, who works at the college counseling center, reminded me to let my kids fail and suffer the consequences. I'm grateful for the reinforcement because baby it's hard! I think we're getting better at letting them own their decisions, but we haven't yet figured out how to let go of the worry. I'm taking suggestions, if anyone has them.

Today I tried to catch up with Book Club reading--Of Time and the River, by Thomas Wolfe, who writes cheerful, uplifting passages like this one: "Immense and cruel skies bend over us, and all of us are driven on forever and ever and we have no home. . .and we walk the streets, we walk the streets forever, we walk the streets of life alone." I'm grateful that, while there have been times when his grim assessment of life would have resonated with me, at the moment it does not.

Day 75--Thanksgiving, a day late

It seems I should come up with something large and exceedingly meaningful today, but when I look deep into my heart, I have to say I'm thankful that my sister and brother-in-law hosted Thanksgiving dinner this year. We've done it for the past six or seven, and it's just nice to have a break. Brad and I and the kids all slept late and then read the paper (which was really only a bunch of flyers) then Madeline baked her world-famous chocolate chip cookies and I made a salad. Oh, to make only cookies and a salad on Thanksgiving Day! Bev and Al are such gracious hosts; everything just looks nicer and tastes better, which could make me feel slightly incompetent, if I choose it let it, which I won't. I'll just be thankful.

Day 74

True to form, Madeline wiggled, twisted, and at last wrested her last baby tooth from her mouth tonight. I had to put on my reading glasses in order to see the pebble-sized molar, lightly frosted with blood, and admire it properly. Brad made noises about the Tooth Fairy, and she didn't contradict him (even though a tooth or two ago she would have), and that made me remember a note she wrote to the Tooth Fairy when she was six. I dug it out of her baby book and here it is: Dear tooTh FairY, I reaLLy WaNT To KeeP my Tooth. LOVE MadeLiNe. I'm grateful for Madeline's spirit. Not every kid has the guts to stand up to the tooTh FairY.

Day 73

Right now we're reading Of Time and the River, by Thomas Wolfe, but The Awakening, by Kate Chopin, was our first book club book. Tonight we celebrated our 15-year anniversary. Our group has evolved (Lois and I are the only two remaining members of the original six--or was it eight?), but we've met faithfully over the years to have serious discussions about books, staying true to our original mission of the group: to read books that we otherwise might not have read. For me, this meant non-fiction. Without book club, I never would have read Savage Beauty or Truth and Beauty or Autobiography of a Face or Liars' Club. It would have been my loss. I don't have the patience to figure out how to link to the four-page, single-spaced list of all the books we've read, but I'll e-mail it to anyone who wants it.

I'm thankful for the members of The Book Club, who love talking about books and life and the relationship of books to life. My life is richer because of our discussions and the varied reading I've had to do has, I hope, made my writing stronger.

(By the time we thought to officially name it, its unofficial name had mysteriously become official--kind of like common law marriage).

Day 72

Christmas Vespers at Hope College is my favorite part of Advent, and today I snagged tickets for me and Ann. I'm grateful I thought to call on them before the performances sold out.

Days 69, 70, and 71

Day 69: I have the most amazing group of friends right in my hood. They are involved in the mental health professions, academics, business, religion, and politics. We're currently talking about the book Simply Christian and had a great discussion about justice and theodicy. I'm grateful for the open conversation as we all try to understand life's most difficult questions.

Day 70: Both kids out, a lemon drop martini, a good movie, my guy. It just doesn't take much to make me happy or grateful.

Day 71: Madeline asked me just now if she could keep a framed picture of me, my old friend Wendy, and Wendy's horse in her room. A few years ago, Wendy was diagnosed with Stage 3C breast cancer. Chemo and radiation killed more of her than they left alive, but when all the treatment was over, like the phoenix, she rose from the ashes. Today she's happy and healthy--luminous, even, since she's in love. She never had any doubt that this, not death, was waiting for her on the other side of cancer. She's what my friend Hope would call "a beezer"--someone who's optimistic even when the deck is stacked against her. I'm grateful Wendy was right. Of course, she always (thinks she) is.

Day 68

My kids are both in band and one of the class requirements is to attend a concert outside of school. Hope College, which is just a few blocks from our house, offers many concerts and tonight at 7:20 we raced down to the college's Dimnent Chapel, where we'd heard that Hope's jazz band and Bug would be playing at 7:30. We got a great parking spot. That should've been our first clue. Inside, there were no musicians. There were no people, either, except one: the jazz band director's wife, who also thought the concert was there. In short order, she was able to find out where the rest of the audience and the musicians were, and she told us, and we still made it to the concert on time. I'm grateful that for once we were in the right place at the right time, even though it actually was the wrong place at the right time.

Day 67

My friend Hope and I were talking today about the internal demons we have to get past to get any writing done, and about how you never get past them for good. The next day, you have to get up and do it all over again. Day after that, same story. "Like that movie Groundhog Day," she said. I'm grateful to have writing friends who understand all aspects of the writing life and don't even think you're crazy when you talk about demons. Although, as writers themselves, they may not be the best judges of sanity.

Day 66 (late)

b. November 13, 1993, at 10:05 a.m.; 7 lbs., 2 oz., 19.5 inches. The brightest, most intensely curious dark eyes. A shock of black hair. And, after a few months, delicious Sumo thighs. I thought I knew about love before Clark was born, but now--14 years later--I can see I knew nothing. I'm grateful for Clark, our happy, healthy, kind, smart, and funny boy-man, who hates homework and lives for hockey and lights up our lives with his spirit.

Day 65

Here's an excerpt of an e-mail I got from a high school student who read How It's Done: "It really touched me. Because I am in a way going through the same things as Grace [the main character] and it made me realize that maybe this boy that I'm seeing might really just be my escape from reality. But this book made me wake up. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

And here's an excerpt of an e=mail I got from a Mary Margaret reader: "I bought your Mary Margaret books for my 9 year old daughter. I wanted to let you know how MUCH we are enjoying reading them together. It is not often we are both enjoying the book equally. Lots of laugh aloud moments and such a wonderful narrative voice. Thanks for writing them."

I received both these e-mails on the same day. And even though it happened way last week, I'm still grateful for them. As a writer, I live for stuff like this--any indication that a) people other than family members and friends are reading my books and b) the stories I write make an impact. Hearing that my work makes someone think or laugh is definitely something to be grateful for.

Day 64

Suffice it to say that it was an emotionally exhausting day on the parenting front and I'm grateful the day is over.

Day 63 (late)

The dinner menu wasn't very inspired (lasagna and salad) but Mom and Dad came over at the last minute, anyway, to help us celebrate Clark's birthday. We put candles in the leftover cake and sang Happy Birthday all over again. I'm thankful Mom and Dad are still able to join in the fun--and that they still want to.

Clark wasn't wild about the presents we picked out for him. He was polite when he opened them (the football from Madeline was a big hit, as were the comic books from Aunt Bev), but I could tell he was disappointed about not getting the PSP. When I asked him about his gifts later, he said the American Eagle sweater was "girly," so I guess we'll be heading back to the mall. So much for our best efforts.

Day 62 (late)

For his birthday, Clark chose to invite six friends to open skate at the ice rink and then come back home for cake, ice cream, and Wii. This involved transporting other people's children in our van. I'm grateful that the tire on the minivan waited to go flat until the van was back in the garage and the children happily scarfing down cake. It's true that the light on the dashboard has been indicating for the last several days that something on a tire was amiss. Also true: Brad ascertained that the tires were fine; it was the indicator that had a problem. Why have indicator lights on the dashboard at all when we don't trust them?

Day 61 (late)

I'm not wild about November, December, January, or February. I can be happy during "the dark days" (as we refer to them here in West Michigan, where we can easily go 20 days at a time in winter without seeing the sun), but I have to work at it. A sense of humor helps; the trick is maintaining it. I've returned the Six Feet Under DVDS--they are no friend to me now--and borrowed the David Sedaris box set of his books on CD. I'm grateful for comedians who make me laugh, and for Lorna who so generously loaned me the laughs.

Day 60

I'm grateful for Bob Evans' package of frozen peppers, potatoes, sausage, and onions. Fry it up, add eggs, and voila! Dinner is served. Or breakfast, I guess. But we like it for dinner, with a half glass of a nice chianti, which explains why we like to eat this dish at dinner.

Day 59

Clark had to be at his first band concert of the year at 6:30 tonight. My friend Deb called at 4:45. "Check the hem on Clark's tux," she said. "I just discovered Henry's tux isn't hemmed." Come to find out, Clark's wasn't, either. I'm grateful she took the time to call me so I could hem it at the last minute instead of at the very last minute.

Day 58

At breakfast this morning, my kids said they thought I should get out of the house to do my writing--the library or a coffee shop. Maybe they're afraid I'll get cabin fever. (Remember Jack Nicholson in The Shining? All those neatly stacked pages of "his novel" on which he'd typed "All work and no play, make Jack a dull boy"? Beware the house-bound writer!)

I ended up at Barnes & Noble, where you can get Internet access--for 20 frickin' bucks a month! How long has that been going on?! I was disgruntled. Now what was I supposed to do--write?

I wasn't happy about it, but that's exactly what I did. I ended up writing about twice as much in the same amount of time as I normally do at home, probably in large part because I couldn't fritter time away on the Internet. And the bonus of the day was I saw my friend Anna from a distance, chased her down, and lured her to my cafe table. (Which just goes to show you can't take the frittering out of me; I always find a way.) I'm grateful I went to the trouble of packing up my computer and files and dragging my sorry behind out of my stuffy office. The change of scenery obviously did me good.

Day 57

With great flourish, Clark presented us with a birthday list the other day, as he has for several years now. Seven items were on the list, one of which is a PSP (I had to ask Madeline what that stands for; it's PlayStation Portable) and four others that somehow relate to a PSP. Since we don't own a PSP and have no plans to buy one, even for said adored firstborn, we had to buy gifts today the old fashioned way: We relied on what we know about him and his interests. It's harder and riskier than working from a list, but I'm grateful we were forced into it. I'd forgotten how much pleasure there is in choosing gifts for him that way. I can't wait to see his face light up with surprise and delight, if we've chosen well. We're holding onto the receipts, though. Our confidence that we know our child is wavering as he becomes his own man.

Days 54, 55, and 56

On Thursday, Brad signed up more publishers for his new business. I'm grateful for the positive response, but even more than that, I'm grateful he loves his work. Everyone should be so lucky.

I'm to the part in the Mary Margaret Halloween book (my current work-in-progress) where I really need to know what she's going to be for Halloween. Even though I've been thinking about this for weeks and even though Wednesday was Halloween and I saw a lot of Halloween costumes, I hadn't come up with one that was right for Mary Margaret. But on Friday, it came to me. I laughed out loud because it was so perfect. Of course MM would pick it! I can't tell you what it is. She wouldn't want me to ruin her surprise

Finally on Saturday, in what was a nail biter even for this nail biter, University of Michigan (my alma mater) prevailed over MSU in football. I'm grateful the Wolverines pulled themselves together so I can keep wearing my favorite sweatshirt with pride. See, Brad? I do care. :-)

Day 53

There was a blood drive today at our school from 9:00 until 3:00. By the time I arrived shortly after 1:00, the organizers had already met their goal. By the time I was finished donating, they were almost out of supplies. I'm grateful for all the people who made the effort to donate today, and I'm grateful for the National Honor Society member who, last week during conferences, asked me: "Would you be willing to donate blood on Halloween?" Because the answer was, yes. But the truth is, without that extra push, I might not have made the effort.

Day 52

"[When writing is going well], I feel the buzz of happinesss. . . .It's like lifting off in an airplane. You're on the ground, on the ground, on the ground, and then you're up riding on a magical cushion of air and prince of all you survey. ” --Stephen King

Also, Mary found another quote I like: “Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best. ” --Henry Van Dyke.

I'm grateful for the inspirational words of other writers and artists. Often, they sustain me more than they actually inspire me. The end result is the same, I guess: I keep slogging.

Day 51 (late)

Today a student at our school died. I'm grateful I can hug Clark and Madeline and tell them they are loved.

Days 48, 49, and 50

We went out for dinner with a group of close friends on Friday. Unbeknownst to us, the restaurant was celebrating Oktoberfest, and there was live music--an accordion. . .ist? "Is this a party?" he asked. Tim said yes, it was (because it always is a party, just by virtue of us being together), and the man immediately broke out into song. This man, an elderly gentleman, took such obvious pleasure in the act of creating music with his voice and his accordion. I was grateful for the reminder that there can be joy in the creative process, even if you're not wild about the end result.

On Saturday, my sister Bev and I went to see our Great Aunt Chris (101) and my mom, who was caring for her. I was grateful for Bev's company and, as always, for her "joy a la mode," as Madeline calls it. (Translation: Joy of life.) During the drive, she shared with me an amazing dream she'd had several years ago. Then she promised she'd write it down just the way she'd told me about it, for posterity.

Clark's first band concert of the year is this week. This year he has to wear a tux, which means he also needs decent shoes. Today I asked him to try on his good shoes. I'm grateful that, in spite of the fact that he has shot up several inches since we bought the shoes, they still fit!

Day 47

We went to parent/teacher conferences this afternoon. We brought the kids along to sit in on their respective conferences so they could hear the good (lots of times), the bad (a few times), and the ugly (actually, there was no ugly).

In every instance, we saw that the teachers know and like our kids, want them to succeed, and are willing to do what they need to in order to make that happen. I'm grateful for the enthusiastic, dedicated teachers involved in my childrens' educations. Clark and Madeline aren't always happy about the workload, but they are learning and thriving there.

Day 46

I'm grateful for Six Feet Under. When I discovered this HBO series in DVD, I was addicted. When I wasn't watching it, I'd be thinking about when I could next. I'd sneak in an episode (or two--once three!) when the kids were at school. I couldn't wait to find out what happened next. It was the closest thing to obsession that I've ever known. I was eager to watch the entire series so I could be rid of it. But when I finally finished watching all five seasons, there was this huge hole. Those of you who haven't watched the show might think I'm pathetic. Those of you who have know exactly what I'm talking about.

Over the past few days I've been watching the final season again; I missed Nate, David, Brenda, Ruth, and Claire, all of whom are terribly and wonderfully flawed. I missed the way dead characters show up to talk to the living. (Once a person is dead, though, they never speak for themselves again. Instead, "they're speaking as a fragment of the person they're speaking to," according to the director. It makes those scenes doubly fascinating.) Anyway, I cried just as hard at the season finale this time around as I did last time.

I might have to buy the box set. Just so I can be continually grateful, you know.

Day 45

I don't get out of town much, especially when I'm working hard on a book, but today I drove to Grand Haven for lunch with some writer friends. I'm grateful for the excuse to go for a drive by myself and catch the trees at their peak. Bellowing along with REO Speedwagon to Riding the Storm Out without commentary from my children was also lovely.

Day 44

It's a joy to write about my character Mary Margaret, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Getting going on a new book is particularly hard; I think I resist getting started because I know it means I'll lead a double life (mine and hers) until the draft is finished, and that's uncomfortable.

But last week I applied derriere to chair and I. Just. Began. I'm grateful to be over that initial hurdle. The writing is still slow and awkward, like I'm trying to talk with a mouthful of marbles. Still, I can feel the story gathering momentum. I can sense the possibility of lift-off.

Day 43

Michigan's unemployment rate for September was 7.5%; the national rate is 4.7%. I'm grateful I still have paying work I enjoy here. My workload varies--sometimes by choice, sometimes not--but there has always been work and the satisfaction it brings. It brings stress, too, but nothing like the stress that goes with unemployment.

Days 40, 41, and 42--Catching up!

I realize I'm not posting every day, but I do make mental notes every day about what I'm grateful for and what I will post, once I get around to it.

Thursday was sign-up day for conferences--something I did online. The system was scheduled to be available beginning at 8:00 a.m., so I postponed my shower, refilled my coffee cup, and did finger exercises to warm up for the main event. Fifteen minutes later, I was grateful to get back-to-back conference times with my kids' teachers (a total of seven conferences) late Thursday afternoon, instead of having them spread throughout the day on Thursday and Friday.

Friday was the Homecoming Dance for middle schoolers. It was Madeline's first dance ever, and when I picked her up, she had a smile on her face the size of California, and a mood twice as sunny. Sorry, I can't tell you why. (I'm fortunate she still tells me why; Clark no longer does.) I was grateful she had a good time.

On Saturday, I was carded at a bar. So Brad and I had a moment. I know I don't look like I'm in my 20's or even my 30's. I know the waiter was probably doing it just in case I was part of a sting operation. Or maybe because he wanted a good tip. But still. . .who couldn't muster a little gratitude over being carded in middle age?

Day 39

Mary and I became walking partners before we became friends. Committing to walking at 5:45 every morning with a stranger was risky for her, particularly since she wasn't a morning person, but she did it. In the eight years since then, we've covered about 6,000 miles. We've seen an "aardvark," a UFO, lumbering raccoons, drunken men, a mean Chihuahua, and the same Jeep Cherokee at the corner of 12th and Pine at exactly 5:43 every day. We never run out of things to talk about and I'm always glad to see her.

Mary is a daughter, mother, writer, photographer, flautist, teacher, wife, tireless volunteer, and best of all, my friend. Every day I'm grateful for her friendship, but I'm especially grateful for Mary today--her birthday. Happy Birthday, Mary!

Day 38 (late, because Blogger ate it once!)

This is a bleak week for me: National Public Radio is doing its fall fundraising campaign. So today while I was doing laundry and normally would have been listening to Day to Day, I used iTunes to listen to a This American Life I had missed on prisoners performing Hamlet. When I walked past Clark's room, I heard him listening to the radio, too. "NPR?" I asked.

"No, they're fundraising this week," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm listening to This American Life. The one about life aboard an aircraft carrier."

I'm grateful to have a 13-year-old son who shares my love of NPR and therefore my pain during fundraising week, and I'm grateful for podcasts that will help us both get through it. I feel slightly guilty (it's like using TiVo to skip commercials) but I'll get over it.

Days 34, 35, 36, 37

(Gak! How did I get so far behind? I'm trying to be disciplined about writing this blog without being anal. I don't want recording some events to come at the expense of experiencing others, if you know what I mean. So. Onward.)

I spent the weekend at a Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference, which was fabulous. I expected that coming home, however, wouldn't be. Sundays are busy for us because of various church- and hockey-related activities, and I hadn't done the usual menu planning/grocery list making before I left so I was dreading re-entry. When I walked through the door, though, Brad told me he'd found a new grilled chicken recipe and had bought the ingredients, along with some other essentials for the week. "I winged it," he said.

I'm grateful he thought ahead so I could just enjoy being home for a little while. I love home. And Brad.

Day 33

Six years ago today, on another rainy day, an editor called me and said, "If you haven't already sold Even Firefighters Hug their Moms, we'd like to buy it." I laughed (probably not the most professional response) and then I said I needed to think about it. That was a cool moment. Not as cool as childbirth, but still very cool.

I'm grateful for Sarah. She's the editorial assistant who read my manuscript first. If she hadn't liked it and passed it on to the woman who called me and who became my editor, that would have been the end of the story (so to speak).

Day 32

A professor friend asked me to come and speak about reading and writing to her students. "Maybe talk about how to connect kids with books they'll like," she said, as if this is something I do every day. Well, I don't.

So I trotted across the street to the library and asked the experts--the children's librarians. In about 20 minutes, I learned so much about kids and their reading. I learned, for example, that some kids don't know how to browse a bookshelf. This includes everything from reading titles on the book's spine (because you must be able to read vertically) to reading the publisher's one-sentence plot summary that follows the ISBN number in the front pages. Also, did you know a teenager will tolerate only three questions from a librarian about what kinds of books he or she likes before the teenager wants to run away fast? And a girl who likes Twilight (which is about a girl who falls for a vampire), is probably enthralled by the "forbidden love" in the story, and not by the vampire aspect. If you recommend another vampire story to that girl, you may miss the mark completely.

I'm so grateful that "tall Nancy," "short Nancy," Marilyn, Mary, and Pat were willing to share what they know about how to divine what book a child might like. Now I feel like I'll have something substantive to offer tomorrow.

Day 31

I'm terrible at math. For one thing, I have no interest in it. Secondly, I own a handy thing called a calculator. Also, did I mention I have no interest in it?

Both my kids surpassed me in math knowledge when they hit fourth grade. This makes helping them with math homework impossible. English? Yes. Spanish? Bring it on. History? Sure. Math? No way. Fortunately, Brad (an engineer by degree) is very good at math. So tonight, for the 387th time, I told Madeline to wait to do her math homework until Brad could help her. So she did, and then he did, and it all worked out.

I'm grateful to have a husband who knows about square roots and pi and who knows that "to infinity" is not just something Buzz Lightyear says as a preamble to "and beyond."

Day 30

The sermon today was on "Faith--Enough Already!" At the end, the minister summarized everything nicely for those whose minds had drifted. First, while we may not feel we have enough faith, we do. Second, when we feel we don't have faith, we can still keep walking (baby steps), keep working (just show up), keep connected, and remember that it's not about us, anyway. I've found all this holds true with writing, which is itself an exercise in faith.

I'm thankful for the reminder that sometimes having faith means just putting one foot in front of the other. That, I can do.

Day 29 (late)

I hadn't been sleeping well for a few nights. Getting to sleep wasn't a problem, but then I'd wake up at 3:08 and think about a weak transition in my work-in-process, or about how I need to schedule a haircut for Madeline, or about that *&!# dog and how to keep her off our counters. It would be another two hours before I fell back to sleep.

Last night, I slept straight through. I'm thankful for a good night of sleep. It might seem like the smallest of things, but to me, it's not.

Day 28

For the last 15 years, I've worn a helmet while biking. But lately I've been rethinking that. Anna B. (who does not wear one) talked about how riding a bike made her feel "ageless." That made me remember how riding a bike as a kid felt, with the wind rushing past my ears and my hair flying out behind me. Maybe, I thought, the pure joy of that feeling is worth the risk.

This explains why today (during school hours so my kids couldn't witness it) I rode without a helmet. Through a cemetary. Tempting fate.

I rode past the gravestone of "Valero, Manuel Sr." Above it wafted a half-deflated turquoise balloon, which was tied to the pastel purple wings of a porcelain angel. The balloon read, "You'll be missed." (Mr. Valero, I noticed, died in 1993.) I pedaled on, past Henry Vegter, "Father," past a small, mottled white gravestone that read simply, "Baby," and past Katherine, "Safe in the arms of Jesus." At the far end of the cemetary, under the awning set up for internments, was a brand new gravestone. Etched into the side I could see were the words, "Now at rest."

I'm grateful I'm not at rest. Cemetaries do that to me every time.

Day 27

Sometimes people who read my books actually take the time to send me an e-mail, which always makes my day. The kids write absolutely the best letters. Here's an excerpt from a girl who read a MARY MARGARET book:

Anyway, let me tell you some stuff about me. I have short blonde hair, pure-blue eyes, get nervous a lot, have a lot of friends( me and my friend Andi are the smartest in the class) , I’m in the third grade, my teacher is Ms.Vail(SHE IS THE NICEST TEACHER EVER!) and I’m an only child and that’s about it unless you want to hear more. That’s the letter, if you ask me. P.S. E-mail me ok? Then we can be keyboard pals.

I'm grateful for this letter. It reminds me why I write, and why sometimes I even love to write.

Day 26

Last year I mentored a fourth-grader once a week for Kids Hope, which tries to pair you with the same child every year until he moves into middle school. Today was the first time I'd seen Jose since May, and I was worried that he was dreading it--especially because when he comes to our session, he misses gym class. But he seemed glad to see me and chatted me up for the entire hour. He's not the sentimental type at all, but he even said he missed me at the year-end party, which I wasn't able to attend.

I'm grateful Jose and I are back together again, and I'm thankful for a volunteer gig that fits my values and my life.

Hey, Buffy! Did you see this?

Apparently, grateful people really are more optimistic, more apt to help others, more joyful, and more healthy, according to University of California, Davis, research. (This, by way of O magazine, quoting Thank You Power: Making the Science of Gratitude Work for You, by Deborah Norville. You were way ahead of Debbie with Snapshot Gratitude--and your title is so much better than hers.)

Day 25

The doggy has been bad. A few weeks ago when I was out of the room, she figured out how to use a chair as a ladder to the kitchen counter, where there was a pound of freshly cooked bacon. She ate all of it. No, she didn't get sick.

Today as an encore, she ate five donuts--not ordinary donuts, mind you, but fresh donuts from Crane's. On the advice of Kris F., who has many, many dogs and appears to be some kind of dog whisperer, I set out a lovely piece of roast beef and doused it with hot sauce. I guess she was full from those five donuts, because she didn't get up on the counter again until after dinner tonight. Once there, she gobbled up the roast beef, completely oblivious to the hot sauce. No, she hasn't gotten sick. Clearly there's no justice.

What to do? What to do? Peppering the counter with shards of glass seemed ill advised. I liked the idea of giving the dog away. The kids said I was over-reacting. Before I could come up with another great idea, Clark rearranged the furniture. I'm grateful for the low-cost, low-intervention idea. I hope it works.

I am not grateful for the dog.

Day 24

Madeline has been on a biking/canoeing/camping trip with her church youth group this weekend. The purpose of the outing was to challenge the kids physically and she was ambivalent about going at first. Only when she was pressed by one of the leaders did she agree to go. Even though it was a busy weekend, I missed her. The house seemed drab without her sparkling commentary on whatever caught her attention--frogs, jewelry, romantic love. And, truth be told, I was worried about how she was holding up. When she called from the road today to say what time she'd be arriving home, I could hear the smile in her voice. I'm grateful she had the courage to try something she knew would be hard. Most of all, I'm grateful she's home.

And a note for posterity: Clark is officially taller than I am, "by a hair," reports Brad. I suppose I'm grateful about that--he's clearly thriving--but also wistful. Incredulous, too. I'll stop now, before I have to add "teary" to the list.

Day 23 (late)

We've had out of town guests for the past few days. I thought that we'd still be entertaining into the evening. Instead they decided to turn in early, leaving Brad and me with no choice (!) but to go out for a quiet drink, just the two of us. I'm grateful for the unexpected opportunity to connect with my husband.

Day 22 (late)

For the first time in years, I have a cold. While I'd like to be able to baby myself by snuggling under my down comforter with my book (The Thirteenth Tale--perfect for Halloween!), that's just not an option. But since I couldn't do that, I planned my work and errands in such a way that I would be checking on my sister's beach house shortly after lunch, when I knew the sun would reach her back deck. I dragged the Adirondack chair into a sunny patch and sat there until the sun warmed my skin and soaked my muscles right through to the bone. I'm grateful I found a way to take care of myself for a few minutes on a busy day.

Day 20 (late)

Nyquil. I'm thankful for Nyquil.

Day 18

The piece I've been wanting to write on "riding shotgun" (when people close to you make big decisions that affect your life) hasn't been coming together for me. Usually by this point in the writing process, I know what I'm doing, but maybe the topic is too broad or I'm too close to it. Lately I've been wondering if I should abandon it altogether. But today I had a great interview with a psychologist who brought some clarity to the subject, and late this afternoon someone who has done some serious "shotgun riding" agreed to talk to me about it. I'm incredibly grateful that these two folks are willing to share their experience and expertise. Their timing couldn't have been better.

Day 17 (late)

Brad came home from work hot and uncharacteristically cranky. I gave him a buy, but I'm thankful he had a busy evening that took him out of the house. I can only be magnanimous for so long.

Day 16

My Great Aunt Chris will turn 101 in a few weeks. My sister Bev and I made the trek to see her today. She's hard of hearing, even with the hearing aid, and she is losing her eyesight. "Everything is getting dimmer," she said. (It reminded me of that old hymn with the chorus, "And the things of earth will grow strangely dim/In the light of His glory and grace.")

Even so, her mind is still pretty sharp--although inconsistently so. She eventually figured out who Bev and I are (Bob's girls) and we had a nice visit. "I have just one question for God when I get to heaven," she said. "Will spirits be able to talk to each other?"

I'm grateful Aunt Chris is still in this world and still curious enough to wonder about the next.

Day 15

Just finished watching Part I of Ken Burn's amazing documentary, The War, which reminded me that hundreds of thousands of American servicemen died during World War II. I'm grateful for their willingness to defend America.

Day 14 (late--notice a pattern here?)

I've finally figured out how Michigan Athletics fits 111,143 people into a stadium that seats only 110,000--they double book seats, the way airlines do, believing that at any given moment, there will be enough people in a row that are enroute to or from the bathroom, or a foodstand, or still tail-gating, that they can actually assign 40 people to a bench that can fit only 30. It's a good idea in theory, but in practice it doesn't work.

I'm grateful that four (four!) U of M ticket holders in our row didn't show up for the game today, so that for once I didn't have to sit with my left bun half on Brad's lap and my right bun half on a stranger's. Michigan winning was just gravy.

Day 13 (late)

Just as we were heading out on the carpool run this morning, I discovered that Diet had died sometime in the night. (Pepsi, our other fish, preceeded him in death awhile ago.) Diet had a long and rich life swimming round and round and round the tank, but Madeline was still devastated. Me, not so much. I threw his little gold body into a sandwich bag and put him in the freezer, knowing Madeline hadn't really had time to say goodbye and that time-honored tradition of flushing him to fishy heaven really wasn't an option.

After school, she called her friend Emma, who came to help out with funeral preparations and the funeral itself, which consisted of a few words of tribute, a prayer, and taps, played by Madeline on her saxophone.

I'm grateful for Emma who, in all her genuine empathy, was able to help Madeline process her grief.

Day 12

There are so many things I could mention today, but I choose A Thousand Splendid Suns because whenever I've been able to steal a few minutes to read, I've completely disappeared into the story. It's like going on a mini-vacation--for free! The downside: I have no inclination to do anything else.

Day 11

Between last night (book club night) and whenever I get the next book-club book from Lois, I'm free to read whatever I want. Oprah magazine is my guilty pleasure, but there's really only so much "up talk" I can take. I've just returned from the library, where I checked out three contenders: A Thousand Splendid Suns, The Thirteenth Tale, and Away. Now I'm baking Daily Bread early so I can dive, guilt-free, into my night of reading.

I'm grateful I live across the street from the library: I never have to be without a good book for long.

Day 10

Maisy is a social dog. I'm not always a social person. Today Essie (another dog who looks so much like Maisy they could be sisters) invited Maisy over to play.

I'm grateful for a doggy playdate on a day when I just didn't feel like being her be-all and end-all.

Day 9

Careful driving happens to be one of my strengths. I wouldn't dream of dialing my cell phone while driving; I hardly ever even answer it if it rings while I'm driving. I use my turn blinker. I check my blind spots, although sometimes without really seeing what's there. You know what I mean.

This morning on the expressway, I checked my blind spot and saw the red SUV I'd seen in my rearview mirror a minute before. I thought, Okay when he's by I can switch lanes. Job done. But then I leaned forward and looked in my side mirror at a slightly different angle, just to make sure, and I saw another red vehicle tailgating the SUV.

I'm grateful that this time instead of a rote check of my blind spot, I did a real check of it. I wish I knew how to do that for the metaphorical blind spots in my life.

Also, I'm grateful I never have to wear panty hose.

Days 6, 7, and 8 late

I spent the weekend at an extended birthday party for a good friend who has a hard time accepting compliments, recognition, and attention. But you know what? This time she did it--she let us tell her how she has made a difference in our lives in some way. She didn't deflect or minimize. She just took it in.

I'm grateful that on her 50th birthday, she graciously accepted our celebration of her.

Day 5

I have at times called my husband a stud muffin; sometimes he misremembers the term and calls himself a stud bucket. This is an endless source of amusement to both of us. Anyway, tonight while shopping I found a little pin that had the word "stud" above a little muffin icon. I slapped down a buck for it and gave it to him when he got home.

I'm grateful I can still make him laugh, and it's not even that hard.

Day 4

On the boardwalk this evening, a couple stopped to pet Maisy. As we stood watching the rays of the setting sun reflecting off the clouds, they talked about their son's dog (a husky with two blue eyes), how long they've been married (34 years), and how they'd raised a gaggle of kids. They said they'd come to the park to offer to pray for people--anyone who wanted it. "Not that everyone has problems," the man said, putting a finger to the rim of his cowboy hat respectfully.

"We don't preach, because that offends people," he said. "We just offer to pray for them."

His wife nodded. "Some people'll let us. Some people'll say, "Yes, you can pray for me. I'm goin' into surgery tomorrow.' So we do."

They were quiet for a minute, perhaps waiting for me to say that I had a problem and could use their prayers. I smiled my best clueless smile, and they said good night and moved on.

I'm grateful for the reminder that each of us has a different calling, a different heart song that gives life meaning.

Day 3

6:15 p.m.
Me: Want to go for a walk?
Madeline (engrossed in the fifth HP): No thanks.
Me (determined to be outside every possible moment between now and when the snow flies): Are you sure? It's really nice out.
Madeline: I'm sure.

6:50 p.m.
Me: Now?
Madeline (flipping a page): No. You go.

7:20 p.m.
Me: How about a walk now? Just a short one?
Madeline (sighing): I guess.

We leash up the Bad Puppy and head toward the lake at a brisk pace to stay warm.

Madeline: I like fall, except that's when school starts. There's more homework in middle school, but I've found that if I just spread stuff out, I'm okay. I can't wait for the Rock and Mineral Show this weekend. I bet you'll go to the Farmers Market tomorrow, right? I think I'm going to adopt someday.
Me: Any baby would be lucky to have you for a mom.
Madeline: I won't adopt a baby. I'll adopt maybe a five- or six-year-old. Or maybe somebody Martha's age.
Me: A five- or six-year-old or someone Martha's age would be lucky to have you, too.
Madeline: I know.

[long pause]

Madeline: It's good that you and me came on this walk because then we had this meaningful discussion.

I'm grateful that today I had the patience to wait until my daughter had a change of heart.

Day 2

One of the things I remember most vividly about my first trip through the book publishing experience was the blue pencil that arrived via Fed Ex with the manuscript the copy editor had marked up. For some reason, it made me feel legit.

Today Mary Margaret Mary Christmas arrived (sans blue pencil, another victim of cost cutting) with the copy editor's neat and polite queries in red lead on yellow sticky notes. At the top of page 54, next to the sentence in which Mary Margaret says, "I pretend I will melt like the Wicked Witch of the North," is a sticky note with this kind suggestion: "West?"

Yes. Of course I meant to write Wicked Witch of the West. I'm grateful for my copy editor's sharp eye and her professionalism. Because even if she pities me, the hapless writer, she never lets her pity show.

(Here's a Q&A I did with a copy editor for my "unsung heroes" series, in case you're interested.}

Day 1

Yesterday my son went to a community picnic with a friend. When he came back, he handed me a fresh peach. "I picked it out for you," he said over his shoulder, already moving on to something else. "It was the best one in the basket." I touched it to my lips for a moment, breathing in the sweetness of late summer.

This morning after my second cup of coffee and my first section of the paper, I sliced the peach, bruised and perfect, onto my Corn Chex. Today I'm grateful for one fresh peach and the thoughtfulness of the young man who chose it.

Welcome

Well, I see you've done it. You've gone where no one else has dared--not even me: my blog. To say I'm ambivalent about blogging is an understatement. Doubtless it will take me some time to work through my blog-related issues. In the meantime, you can visit my website, about which I have no issues or ambivalence whatsoever.