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.