Liz Flaherty - Romance Author

Happy New Year!

2010-01-11T18:55:00.000-08:00

Lord, I have no imagination, do I? Well, having admitted that, I hope you had wonderful holidays and that the New Year really is happy.

I've been busy since we talked. I finished a book and sent it off to my editor. I hope he likes it. (A mantra I have repeated approximate 1000 times since hitting "send" and shipping the manuscript off.) Now I've dragged an unfinished story out from under the bed and am blowing dust bunnies off of it. Sometimes when I go back and look at something I wrote a year or two ago, I repeat another mantra--you know the one: "What were you thinking?" But not this time. This time, I'm thinking, "Hmmm..." and I'm really liking it.

I've also been sewing up a storm. I sew gowns and blankets for hospitals and nursing homes. I don't sew all that well, but I enjoy it. I hope the bright colored gowns and warm quilts offer joy to someone else, too.

I spend way too much time on the computer doing things besides writing, but I've been visiting a few blogs lately and enjoying them. One of them is Word Wranglers. Pay them a visit. They're a fun bunch.

The book of the month for January is Forbidden Falls by Robyn Carr. It's another Virgin River story and what a good one it is. Enjoy--and if you've never read her books before, she has a long and invariably good backlist.

Say yes to mammograms...

2009-11-30T19:24:00.001-08:00

Okay, I know this is pink. I know it looks dumb on this blog, but, hey...we're talking about breasts here. Boobs. Jugs. Tatas. Other euph--I've forgotten how to spell that word--that are even less elegant. And we're talking about breast cancer. You know, that nasty disease represented by that ribbon over there?

We've got some "experts" saying don't bother with mammograms, don't examine yourself. I'd venture to say most of them have not buried their mothers or sisters or daughters. Most of them don't know and celebrate the survivors the way those of us do who knew and loved women who didn't survive.

There are some places to look at. One of them is Cheryl Reavis's blog. http://cherylreavis.blogspot.com/ Another is Kathleen Eagle's discussion on the http://ridingwiththetopdown.blogspot.com/ Look at these. Read up on survivors--see how many of them recommend you skip this year's mammogram.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

I hope you and yours are having a glorious day. I haven't been here to blog in forever and I'm sorry about that; I've also accepted that I'm never going to be very good at it. This is only one among many, many things I'm not good at, and I'm okay with that, too.

I'm on the wind-down on the story I'm working on. I've got about 20 pages or so, a chapter and some, and I'll be able to type "The End" and get started on one my favorite parts of writing: the rewrites. Where I go over the whole manuscript and tie up the loose ends (I have lots of those) and take out the unnecessary "thats" and "she saids." I make sure the secondary characters end the story with the same names they started it with and try to keep eye and hair colors consistent while I'm at it.

But first I have to write the last 20 pages, the moment of hopelessness (which I'm in the middle of; it lasts an hour or so in the book but takes me a week to write!), the "aha" moment. I have say goodbye to people I've come to know and love and I have to be convincing about it. It's hard. And I'm okay with it.

My kids are all grown up, and today we're not seeing any of them. It's kind of lonely with just the roommate and me and the cats. But everyone's healthy. I think they're all happy. So I'm okay with it.

I'm glad I didn't have to work today, sorry I'm working tomorrow. But I have a good job in a time when there aren't that many of them, and I like it more often than not, so...yeah, I'm okay with it.

I'll leave you with that, I think. You're a grownup so you know life isn't always wonderful or perfect or even happy, but if, most of the time, you're okay with it, well, you're ahead of the game.

Have a great day. In case I don't make it back--you know how I am--have a Merry Christmas, too.

Happy Summer

2009-07-13T19:12:00.000-07:00

July's such a time of celebration, isn't it? I hope you're enjoying it. We are. We had a nice 4th of July with my extended family and just came back from General Butler State Park in Kentucky, where we spent the weekend with the boyfriend's side. All of my kids and five of the six grands were in one spot, which is just about as happy as it gets for me.

RWA's National Conference is this week in Washington D. C. this week. I wish I was there, as I always do, but it's never at a good time or place for me. I went one year, when it was in Chicago, and I loved it, but I wonder how it would be now. I'm so much older and my interests are different.

Books of the month--I've gotten away from that, haven't I, so I'll name a few. First up is Cheryl St. John's The Preacher's Wife. I'm less than halfway through it and forcing myself to put it down between chapters so that it doesn't end too soon. I've also been reading Mary Balogh's newest series. While I freely admit to preferring her shorter books, the long ones are wonderful. I've been reading Carla Kelly's as soon as they come out--I think the ink's still wet when I start reading--and loving every talented word of them.

Have a great July. Find something to celebrate!

As kids-in-law go...

2009-05-28T13:32:00.000-07:00

...I have been extremely blessed. I have three, have had them all for a long time, and fully intend keeping them forever.

This month's entry is about the first one, Tahne, who's married to Chris and the mother of my only two granddaughters--one of whom just finished her first year at Ball State and the other who is a volleyball player extraordinaire. But I regress; it's their mother I'm talking about.

Her birthday was over three weeks ago, but I'm behind putting this in. This will be okay with her, I think; she knows she's my girl. During that week in early May, she also celebrated her wedding anniversary and earned her Master's degree. Not that she was excited, but she texted me, "...no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks..."

When she went to Paris, she brought me back perfume. From Germany, a Hummel figurine. She wouldn't have to do anything more than love my son and their children--I imagine that's what all mothers-in-law really want--but she loves me and the dad-in-law, too. It's a bonus.

And the feeling's mutual.

The start of it all...

2009-04-12T13:29:00.000-07:00

It was April 7, 1970, and I thought the wind would never stop blowing. And I thought I'd never go into labor. And then I thought I'd never get out of labor. Life as I knew it was just about over. If I ever got out of labor, that is.

After 22 hours, I did. And this is what happened. Well, no, not exactly this. He was 22 inches long then; he's about six and a half feet now. And he's fun. He's long married to Tahne and the father of Mari and Tierney. Just as his dad and I lived for many years on bleachers, that's what he and his wife do now and they enjoy it as much as we did.

I used to say the reason it took me so long to have him was that it was rough giving birth to the basketball. It was in his hands for years, and he was so much fun to watch. I miss it still.

Duane called him on his birthday and said, "Your mom's talking about what she was doing 39 years ago today. Again." And I was. Because it was, you know, one of the very best days of my life.

Love you, Chris.

Happy Birthday, Laura...

2009-03-11T15:58:00.000-07:00

Laura's our youngest--well, actually, I guess she's married to our youngest, the one you see in the entry below. But Laura's been a part of our lives since her junior high days, long before she became Jock's wife, Fionnegan's mother, or a pharmacist. She's smart and talented and funny, and eventually the other girls and I will forgive her for being a size two.

This is Laura. And Fionn. You seldom see one without the other.

Seven years ago, I finally decided that yes, okay, I would quit smoking. Maybe. But I was doing it with medication and a coach. Laura was my coach and she promised she would make me a queensize quilt if I stopped smoking. To make a long story short, I did and she did. The quilt hasn't been off the bed since. She says I have to give it back if I start smoking again and I think she means it.

I'm not giving that quilt back, and I wouldn't give her back, either. She has perfectly good parents of her own, but she's still ours. Her birthday was this week.

Love you, Laura.

And then there were three...

2009-02-25T17:51:00.000-08:00

It seems so long ago in some ways--good heavens, I didn't even have a computer when my youngest son was born! But in others, it's like the blink of an eye.

We named him Jeremy Sean because #1, we liked the Irishness of Sean, and #2, it was the only name we didn't fight about. For the first few weeks, we called our cotton-topped baby Jeremy. It was, after all, his name. But then, he somehow became, in the baby games my husband played with him, Jock O'Flaherty, and then, inexorably and irretrievably, Jocko. This is what he looked like.

He grew up, as they do, way too fast. His high school football careeer was one of the most fun things we experienced as parents. He was a running back and a kicker and a constant surprise.

Married to the woman I would have chosen for him if he'd let me (though it never occurred to him to even ask my opinion) and the father of Fionnegan, Jock is a source of pride and still a constant surprise. His birthday is February 26.

Happy birthday, Jock. Love you.

Happy 60th Anniversary!

2009-02-14T05:32:00.000-08:00

Harlequin's celebrating by giving away free books! Go to http://www.harlequincelebrates.com/ and get yours.

I can't speak for you, of course, but I grew up reading Harlequin Romances. I think I learned more geography between those paperback covers than I did in school! Not to mention about love and happily ever after and the empowerment of women, three of my absolutely favorite things. I can't begin to describe the thrill it was when they published The Debutante's Second Chance.

It was through Harlequin/Silhouette that I discovered Kathy Seidel, Nora Roberts, Muriel Jensen, Jackie Weger, and--the comfort read of all time--Betty Neels.

In my own celebration, my book of the month is any one written by the women listed above. You can't go wrong.

And guess what day this is! Yup, the biggest romance day of all. Happy Valentine's Day to you all and especially to Duane, my own hero.

And to Jimmy...

2009-01-23T19:18:00.000-08:00

In the interest of fair play, it's time to write about Jimmy. He and Kari were married fourteen years ago, at which time he became our our third son. He fits right in with the others both in age and behaviorally (this can be a Bad Thing!). In addition to being the love of Kari's life, he's also a great dad to three of our grandsons: Skyler, Shea, and Connor. He's a math teacher and a football coach and, in the jargon of a confirmed romance writer and reader, a hero.

He's also having a birthday on the 24th. Happy birthday, Jim. Love you.

Happy Birthday...

2009-01-17T20:26:00.000-08:00

Thirty-seven years ago on January 17, I went into labor. I had taken a bath and noticed I couldn't get completely dry--a bad thing in our chilly little rented house in mid-January! However, the reason was that my water broke, not in a gush like the first time, but in a quiet little ongoing trickle.

Well, the roommate came home from work--he worked nights; what fun--and said very calmly, "We're going to town. We'll stay at Mom's." We, you see, lived 13 miles from the hospital. His mother's house, on the other hand, was a only few blocks and absolutely no train tracks away. So we packed up Chris, the sleeping two-year-old, and my three new nightgowns and went to town. Chris and the roommate promptly fell asleep while I...didn't.

Several hours later, when things were only a few minutes apart, I shook the roommate. "Hey," I said, "it's time."

"Uh-huh." Pat, pat, pat on my huge stomach. "I love you, too, honey." Pat, pat, pat.

"Now, I think," I said, and then not so calmly. "We need to GO."

Several hours later, a nurse said, "Hmm..." and then the doctor came in and said, "Hmm..." and I said, "WHAT?" and the roommate said...oh, who knew what he said? I wanted to know what "...hmm..." meant.

What it meant was, for the second time, I was going to have a breech delivery. In case you've never had one, it's a whole lot like parking a schoolbus in a one-car garage. (I know this isn't a real good analogy, but just as I was 37 years ago tonight, I'm tired.) Like the mature adult I was (I was, after all, 21), I wailed, "I want a caesarean!" The doctor agreed, since I wasn't very dilated and there was plenty of time. The roommate breathed a sigh of relief, and a surgical team was hastily assembled. But we never made it to the operating room, there wasn't any need for surgery, because...

Fifteen minutes later...

Awkwardly and noisily, weighing just a little over six pounds, Kari Christine Flaherty came into the world in her own way and her own time. It was one of the very happiest days of my life and of the roommate's life, too. Chris is still reserving judgment, but he did give up on asking us to send her back.

Now she's married to Jim, has three boys of her own (ALL of them born by caeserean; what a wimp!) and is a Special Ed. teacher. She's given us many, many more happy days since that first one, not to mention a few anxious ones.

Happy Birthday, Kari. We love you.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-13T18:07:00.000-08:00

Oh, I'm sorry, I've done it again, haven't I? I really was going to do better. This is why I don't make New Year's resolutions!

It's cold here in North Central Nowhere! Single digits and below. I have little patience with winter after Christmas, and I feel the cold way into my bones, but every now and then the sun peeks out and gives me hope.

Anyway, I hope everyone had wonderful holidays. We did, seeing all our children and their children except the ones who live too far away, and we talked to them.

I'm watching Biggest Loser as I watch this, and being so ashamed of myself because I'm into couch potato-ism these days. My friend Debby's walking up a storm, but it seems once I walk into the house after work, that's it for me. The Boyfriend's going to the gym and looking splendid. I'm proud of them, but still...well, just still.

The book of the month for January is one I'm reading right now: Simply Perfect by Mary Balogh. In a word, wow! I've always been a fan of Ms. Balogh's and this story is doing everything to reinforce that position.

Till next time.

Happy Thanksgiving...

2008-11-23T04:21:00.000-08:00

...again!

So what's new? It's been busy here in North Central Nowhere. I'm back to work. Still writing--word by excruciating word! Winter's come, I'm afraid. There've been snow-dustings and mornings when the car's shivered when I opened her door. But all is well. Three of the grandboys are playing basketball, one grandgirl playing volleyball, and the oldest grandgirl--gasp--is home from college for Thanksgiving (how did she get that old?). The youngest grandboy, Fionnegan, is four and just into being cute and funny.

Almost forgot--book of the month is ALL the romance anthologies that are out now. I don't like all of the novellas necessarily, but there are a ton of good ones! The one that comes to mind, and forgive the lack of titles, is the historical one that Cheryl St. John "headlines" in. Her story's great and so are the others. Happy reading!

Hope you have a splendid holiday!

High Speed Internet Oh My!

2008-10-30T09:21:00.000-07:00

It's official! I've joined the 21st century! A cute young fella named Jake attached a satellite to our porch roof yesterday and so I now--even here in North Central Nowhere--have high speed access. I guess it's not as fast as some, but compared to dial-up, I am now at the NASCAR level of Internet. I've registered at Facebook--go over there and be my friend; I'm a little lonely--and have spent way too many hours playing over the past 14 or so hours.

Yesterday I received a "decline" on a book of my heart that I had submitted to a publisher that looked like it would be a very good fit. I have been in this business many years now, but I've never developed the kind of thick skin required. I should be able to say "oh, well" by now, and go on about the business of writing a new story. However.

Instead, I will spend a few days mulling over a decision to quit. Because, you know, I'm not really any good. The books I've sold have been flukes. I'm too old. Too tired. Can't write. Can't even think.

Well, that's done.

So, when I get finished up here, I'll return to my laptop and to my WIP. I'll struggle some. But then I'll write some more. And maybe someday I'll sell another book.

Thanks for listening!

...and Autum Rain

2008-10-24T07:44:00.000-07:00

It's raining today and I'm lazy. Watched a movie this morning, though--a great thing to do on a rainy day--and wanted to talk it up for a minute. It's an older one, of course, but no less good for a bit of age. It's The Other Sister. I don't even know who plays the title role, though she's great, but I would watch it just to see Diane Keaton and Tom Skerritt. Well, actually, to lust a bit over Mr. Skerritt.

After while, I think I'm going to bake. Has anyone made yeast rolls using Bisquick? They look so easy that I think I'll try them, even though we can never eat the whole batch. That's just one of the things I miss about having a full house, having baked things disappear as soon as they come out of the oven. My grandkids are pretty good about inhaling cookies and brownies, but they're not here all the time.

Have a good day!

Autumn Leaves

2008-10-21T18:26:00.001-07:00

Happy Halloween! It's been a beautiful fall here in North Central Nowhere. My foot's coming along nicely, thank you, and it'll be back to work in a few weeks.

My book of the month is one I haven't read yet, but it's on its way. Penny Porter writes some of the best essays there are--all about kids and animals and life in whatever warm place we call home. Some of those essays have been compiled in a book called Heartstrings & Tail-Tuggers. The book, which is hard to find now but will be re-released in March, is on its way and I can't wait!

Till next time.

Two days in a row?

2008-09-28T15:22:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when you're home. Usually, on Sunday, I get up and watch sewing shows on TV (Sewing With Nancy and something with Sue Hausman and Martha's Sewing Room.) I do this because, even though I'm not all that good at it, I dearly love to sew. The part of my office that is not dedicated to papers, pens, and unfinished manuscripts is dedicated to a sewing machine, a serger, and a sewing table. It is, as you might guess, a rather large and extremely messy room. I love it here. Oops, I forgot what I was telling...

After the sewing shows, I go to church. Ebenezer UMC--otherwise known as the little church on the corner--is right across the road and they know if I'm playing hookey. This means that sometimes I go to church for the wrong reasons, but I'm always glad I went anyway. I like to think the Lord is glad to see me there, too.

After church, I come home and whine the rest of the day because I have to go back to work on Monday. I know, I know, this makes no sense at all. I like my job, for heaven's sake. But that doesn't mean I want to do it.

However, I'm on sick leave right now, because of my foot. While I can't do my job--eight hours on my feet, smiling--I can do most everything else. The cool thing about that is that today--Sunday--I can do it without whining about having to go back to work tomorrow!

So have a good Monday. I may eventually even do this three days in a row!

September Song

2008-09-27T17:39:00.000-07:00

I always think of September as a gentle time, when the colors are throttling up for October and nights are cool. A good time for most things. High school football and crispy apples and the delicious smells that are peculiar to autumn. The cornfields are emptying out and the air is...well, cleansing, I guess. I can't think of a better word.

I had foot surgery this month, so I'm on a long, meandering sick leave. I could work, yes, but I can't stand up for eight hours, which is what my job entails. I must admit, I like being home, working on my laptop before daylight and sitting on the front porch with the cats. I'm even enjoying some TV, which I never do, and watching old movies, which I always do.

Speaking of movies, Paul Newman passed away today. My condolences go out to his family. And to all of us. He was a loving and giving man.

The boyfriend and I spent a few days in Vermont early this month, getting some quality Pappaw and Nana time with Fionnegan, the youngest of our six grands, and his parents. We're planning an Ireland trip in 2009. I can't wait, but I'm scared too--I don't even have a passport!

Book of my month is COURTING MISS ADELAIDE, by Indiana's own Janet Dean. Janet writes with September gentleness and joy. This is her debut book, but it won't be her last!

Class Reunion

2008-08-03T08:08:00.000-07:00

It was my high school class reunion. My 40th--yikes! About 70 of us, including 42 classmates from the original 92, met at the local museum (Would that be the museum of ancient history? asked my daughter Kari), where we ate and drank and talked and talked and talked. (Actually, if you want to see where we met, it's here www.miamicountymuseum.com)

I was not a mover or a shaker in North Miami High School's class of '68. I was more of a sitter and talker. But 40 years after the fact, when most of us are a little heavier and a lot grayer--well, some are grayer; many use a lot more hair color, myself included--it doesn't really matter who moved and shook and who didn't. It was just fun to see each other and finish each other's sentences because even though our lives have gone off in a starburst of directions, our beginnings were the same.

The subject matter of conversations was different than it used to be. We used to talk about our kids and now we talk about their kids. We used to talk about beginning new jobs and now we talk about winding down the ones we've had for a long time. Many of of have retired. Many more of us are thinking about it. What will you do? we ask each other, and we are pleased that no one plans to be bored or go quietly into that good night. We made noise and had sometimes raucous fun when we were young and I believe we intend to continue that into our old age. With somewhat less agility, of course.

Do you still write? people asked me. And I shrugged and mumbled and said I didn't know if I really did or not. But I do. Of course I do. Writing's like breathing to me, so I'll always do it. And I want to go to college--which I've never done--and volunteer at this place and that one. But I'm not sure, I told my friend Patty who has suffered such great pain in recent years and still looks wonderful, what I want to be when I grow up.

Some of us know. Nan is going to play more golf. Call me, I said. I'll go along and ride in the cart and drink. No one wants me to play golf--I'm godawful--but I'm a good rider-alonger and I'm fond of margaritas. You know, the frozen kind with very little booze but a lot of delicious slush. Marsha's going to play bridge. Jim's wife Becky, who is not a classmate but is funny and puts up with Jim :-), doesn't know what she's going to do, only that it will be whatever she wants. Many will travel more, will do more on ebay, will spend more time with the kids' kids.

And in five years, we'll meet again. Someone asked if our next gathering would be in the nursing home and Jeann said, No, probably the retirement center--the one after that will be in the nursing home. And that'll be fine. We'll talk and talk and talk and hug each other hello and goodbye and discuss what we want to be when we grow up just as we always have.

Wasn't it Dickens who started a story with, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times..." I'll cut that a little short in reference to the the class reunion. It was just the best of times.

Summertime, and the living is...busy

2008-06-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

Someone mentioned that I don't blog much, and she was right. I'm sorry, I moaned back, but the 24 hour days just aren't long enough anymore. And they're not. I'm just so tired all the time, I whined to a friend recently, and she said yes, everyone is. We are.
I remember summers of going to 40-some baseball games when my sons played on two different leagues. I remember the summer I sewed dresses for two flower girls, three bridesmaids, and my daughter the bride. I remember when we had a garden the size of--oh, I don't know, but it was way too big. If memory serves, there were only 24 hours in a day then, too, but somehow they lasted longer.
Well, complaining aside, it's a nice summer here in North Central Nowhere. The days are lovely and warm and the nights are lovely and cool.
I saw Mari, my oldest granddaughter, graduate from high school. I sniffled through the whole thing and I am so proud of her.
My daughter Kari and I went to Shipshewana, Indiana to the biggest flea market I've ever seen. We walked around until my feet were falling off, but I got two sets of sheets and we ate some truly excellent chicken and noodles for lunch.
My third grandson, Connor, played T-ball this summer. He played for the Yankees, and my husband said the Yankees were a big team from New York. Connor gave him a disapproving look and said No, they were from kindergarten.
I hung hummingbird feeders on the front porch as I always do, and was disappointed not to draw the usual crowd of the little birds. Until I realized we'd drawn another crowd. Two pairs of orioles feasted on hummingbird nectar for several weeks. They left as suddenly as they'd come.
Deer congregate in our 3-acre yard. They drink water from the low spot and chomp on whatever deer chomp on. (Last year it was two new trees; they apparently don't like the ones we planted this year.) We sit on the back porch and watch them. They stare up at us once in a while, then go back to whatever they were doing.
Oops, I need to throw a reading commercial in here. Kathleen Gilles Seidel's Keep Your Mouth Shut and Wear Beige is a splendid addition to the keeper shelf. Likewise Pamela Morsi's Last Dance at the Jitterbug Lounge.
As I read this, it seems as though I'm spending these summer days watching life rather than participating in it. And maybe I am. But I'm enjoying it, every single too-short day of it, no matter how much I complain.
I hope you are, too.

Let it be spring...

2008-04-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

PLEASE!!!!

In all honesty, winter in Indiana didn't start in earnest until after Christmas--they need to let me do something about that calendar--but I swear it's lasted for years.

In all other honesty, not much is going on. My job keeps me busy, plus I allow plenty of time for the blahs. I've never watched much television, you know, because I don't like anything that's on the 250 channels we are alloted by our satellite provider. (You can only watch all the movie renditions of Jane Austen books and "Murder, She Wrote" so many times.)

However.

When it's winter for months and months at a time and your current WIP seems to be indefinitely stuck on Chapter Six, it's amazing what you can watch! I watch M*A*S*H reruns, "Reba" reruns, "Andy Griffith" reruns--do I detect a pattern here?

That being said, it's time for all you romance and women's fiction writers out there to turn from the TV screen to the computer one and get going on an entry to PASIC's Book of Your Heart contest for 2008. The contest is a winner every time. Here's the link http://www.pasic.net/contest.html
Don't miss your chance to have your entry judged by booksellers from every corner of the country.

Well, there's a platter of brownies in the kitchen calling my name (I can hear it--"Hey, chubby, come on down..."). I wish you all a happy spring.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-13T13:35:00.000-08:00

Hello! I'm sorry I'm not a better blogger, really I am! However, the truth is that I'm lazy. Anyway, I hope you're all having a great February and that you particularly enjoy Valentine's Day. I also hope you love somebody special and that they love you back.

Basketball's all over Hoosierland these days. Our high school teams are doing especially well. The girls won their sectional--GO WARRIORS!--and now it's on to regional.

Snow's all over, too, and it's been cold, but at least in February, I get hopeful that spring will come.

Speaking of reading, if you get a chance to read Kristin Hannah's newest one, FIREFLY LANE, don't miss it. She's never written a word that wasn't worth reading.

Have great days and God bless you.

Romantic Times Nominee!

2008-01-12T18:39:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm excited. THE DEBUTANTE'S SECOND CHANCE is a 2007 nominee for a ROMANTIC TIMES VIEWERS CHOICE AWARD for best Silhouette Special Edition. Oh, sorry--I know I'm probably shouting, but...well...I'M EXCITED! You can go here and check it out.
http://www.romantictimes.com/books_awards.php?type=book&level=1&year=2007

I hope everyone had wonderful holidays and that you're not having too much trouble getting into the swing of 2008. We got to spend a few days with the Utah branch of our family and it was a great time. (There was a small matter of spending most of a day in O'Hare Airport on the way home that I could have done without, but it was a small price to pay.)

Till next time.

Sweet December

2007-12-09T10:49:00.000-08:00

I don't remember her name.

She was young, blondish, a wife and mom, a schoolteacher. She was only one of the horde of customers who braved the post office last week. I'm a window clerk there, or a retail sales associate, depending on your correctness quotient, and I almost flinched when I saw her. My feet were already falling off, my smile at half-mast, and I didn't think I could say, "May I help you?" one more time without a mid-afternoon shot of caffeine to get me through. I didn't think I could face a customer with seven boxes, two of which were huge, all of which required clumsy customs labels. As luck would have it, though, I got her at my window.

The parcels were for her brother in Iraq, she said. She hoped the customs labels were okay. Her students had helped her fill them out. Helped her pack the boxes. It had become quite a project.

Seven boxes. Uh-huh. That was quite a project, all right. My back was starting to hurt.

Yes, the boxes were for her brother. And his friends. There were individual boxes inside the boxes that he was supposed to divide up. Wow, I said, how many of his friends are you sending to?

Thirteen, she said.

My eyes watered.

Except for these three, she went on, pointing to three smaller boxes. Those three were sent to three individual soldiers. Because they never got anything. They didn't have wives or moms or girlfriends, evidently, and she wanted them to have their own parcels this time.

My eyes overflowed and I sniffled. I'm sorry, I said. I'm a watering pot. Oh, me, too, she said.

We prepared the packages, putting on the customs forms and Priority Mail stickers and massive amounts of postage. My students said I must be rich, she said, to pay all this postage. I'm not, though; it's coming out of my kids' Christmas money. They're little, two months and five years, and they won't know it's a little on the slim side.

I blew my nose and I said, But they'll know when they're older, and they'll be so proud, because it's such a good thing you're doing and such a great thing you're teaching. They'll be proud to have been a part of it.

I gave her the postage total and took her check and wished her and her family a Merry Christmas. After she left, we re-weighed the parcels so that I could pay the oversize fee that had come up on the computer screen, the one I'd seen but she hadn't. But it didn't come up this time, and my big contribution ended up being 55 cents.

I thought over and over of three soldiers who never got any mail and who would get those three boxes, of the students who learned about loving and giving and addition and filling out forms, and of the pretty young teacher . The one I didn't want to wait on. The one whose name I can't recall.

But I'll never forget her.

Happy Thanksgiving...

2007-11-21T17:53:00.000-08:00

I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving, doing what you want to do. The boyfriend and I are going to be on our own and our dinner will be comprised of what we want: one turkey--which equals just tons of turkey sandwiches--and one pumpkin pie. I have to work Friday, and then we're going to spend the weekend with two of our kids' families, eating lobster and shrimp. This is a tradition of theirs that I'm anxious to get used to.

I'm thankful for many things this year: family, health, writing. I lost a dearly loved aunt in September, but she lived a long and--I think--happy life, so it's hard to grieve too much. The year contained the hardest six month I've ever spent in the work force, but I survived and so did the women I work with. I feel like singing "we are the champions, my friends" really loud, but no one ever wants me to sing.

I hope you have a great holiday. Till next time.