Oops

I just checked the calendar for the year of my birth.
Turns out, I'm Friday's child, not Wednesday's!
Now I have the rethink the whole thing, darn it.

Celebrating--Wednesday!

I've always liked Wednesdays. They're not hectic, like Mondays, mundane, like Tuesdays and Thursdays, or oh-the-heck-with-it-it's-almost-the-weekend, like Fridays. I was born on a Wednesday, so maybe that's why I like them. Wednesday's child, that's me.

What's special about today? Well, first of all, it's a DAY, and that makes it a precious gift, in and of itself.

I did a radio interview, first thing this morning, and it always jazzes me to talk about the current book--in this case, "Deadly Gamble", with a mention of "Sierra's Homecoming." (That's available from Audible.com, by the way, and I enjoyed listening to it on my iPod, plus it got me up to speed to write "The McKettrick Way", my next Special Edition.)

"One Last Look", the final story in the Clare and Tony trilogy, is out there in mass market right now. If you didn't catch the last episode in trade paperback, you might want to pick it up.

And this week, Thursday won't be mundane. I'm headed out on a brief and badly-needed vacation. I'll try to blog tomorrow, before catching my plane, but travel days being what they are, I might be too rushed. I'll be right here on Monday morning, though, waiting for you to show up for a visit.

Tis the Season

For buying presents?
For decorating trees?
For sending cards?
Baking fruitcakes? (Okay, I know that one's a stretch. Who has time for such an enterprise in this day and age?)
All these things are fine, but they do tend to obscure the Reason for the Season, don't they?
Before the birth of Christ, the earth was shrouded in darkness--spiritual darkness, the very worst kind. And then, oh amazing, holy, eternity-altering night, a door was flung open, and the Light of Heaven itself entered the world, broke through the barrier, and changed the rules forever. And of all places, in a stable--in the presence of animals, the innocent ones, the pure-hearted ones.
My mother used to tell me, as a child, that on Christmas Eve, at midnight, all the animals in the barn would talk, celebrating the Birth . I always wanted to be there to witness the phenomenon, but, of course, I never made it. I was asleep, with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head, long before the midnight hour. And it's just a story, anyway.
Isn't it?
My new barn is still in the planning stages, so there will be no midnight visit this Christmas Eve.
But next year?
I might just head on out there, when the clock is about to chime twelve times, with my ears and eyes wide open. And my heart, too.

Announcing...

My beautiful daughter, Wendy is offically engaged to a wonderful man named Jeremy. He proposed at sunset, on an ocean beach. Is that romantic, or what????

Friday!

As I write this, looking out over the draw from the bay windows, I am again struck by the beauty of snow. The trees are all dappled with it, and there is a low-lying fog, promising more white stuff. It's cold and the roads are icy, but it's a stay-at-home day for me, a writing day.

There's a man downstairs, fixing the fireplaces. (None doesn't do household repairs. Or much of anything, for that matter.) A new kitchen table is being delivered today, and yet another man is coming to measure the upstairs hallway for hardwood. When the pounding starts, Bernice, Sadie and I will head for the lake. In the meantime, everybody, human and furry, is safe and warm.

It's all good.