A Change of Pace

/in /by

I’m not whining. Really, I’m not.

But I hate unloading the dishwasher. I don’t mind loading it. Heck, I don’t even mind washing dishes by hand. But I can’t stand opening the dishwasher door, with the unexpected steam facial, and putting away all the clean plates and silverware.

I know in the scope of tough things in life, this doesn’t even qualify to make the list. I should be grateful (I am) to have a dishwasher. I should be grateful (I am) that I have food to make those dishes dirty in the first place.

But after a million years of marriage (all wonderful, I assure you), and raising four kids (to steal from Garrison Keillor, all good looking and above average) – I am tired of household chores. Sure whoever is at home helps, but I’m still the captain of this cruise ship. Absolutely, my husband does more than his fair share (he’d probably argue that it’s waaaay more than his fair share), but let’s just agree to disagree.

But unless we’re prepared to eat takeout food on paper plates with plastic forks (and risk the wrath of “save the earth fans” the world over) – I’m looking for some invention (or person) to do the following tasks:

1. Unload the dishwasher and put away the contents in a timely fashion (within an hour of the completion of its cycle). This is to avoid the “who can wait longest to see if somebody else will do the job.”

2. Carry upstairs from the basement and distribute to the appropriate drawers, all the clean laundry I’ve done. I point out that it doesn’t count if you merely plop the clean clothes on the bed, to be pushed to the floor before crawling into the sheets, which will necessitate either refolding or washing the clothes again because the dog with the muddy feet has walked on them.

3. Put away the groceries. I don’t mind shopping for food, sometimes at more than one store to get the best bargain, I’ll even lug the bags into the house. But I hate to put the foodstuffs away. Yes, there is a pattern here. I sometimes fantasize that if I only had a walk-in pantry, then putting away dishes and groceries would be a snap. But since I don’t have a pantry, walk-in or otherwise, putting these things away involves much squeezing and rearranging, always doubling the time of the original task.

4. Iron tablecloths and t-shirts. Yes, I know about wrinkle-free tablecloths, but mine are never unwrinkled and if I’m going to the trouble of putting a cloth on the dining room table, it’s an occasion and should look nice. When I iron, it does not….look nice. Same for summer t-shirts which are grabbed right out from the dryer and still look like they have shrunk two sizes, with permanent creases. (Of course, as a writer, I never see anyone so who cares).

5. Mark the sheets so that it’s clear which way they fit. On a twin, this is never a problem, but on our Queen-sized bed, I inevitably put the bottom fitted sheet on the wrong way and have to start over again. I’d also add that I’d like sheets that didn’t pill or shrink – and as long as I’m asking, I’d like someone else to put them on the bed in the first place. Actually, to take a step back, I’d also like someone else to fold all fitted bottom sheets, a task I’ve reduced to rolling them up in balls because I can’t get them to fold flat.

What chores would you like to dump, er, exchange with a loved one?

Marian

Because I Feel Like It

/in /by

Rachel Brady

Last week I took a shine to doing things just because I felt like it. It started with painting my toenails glittery orange. Then there was an impromptu trip to the beach with my little boy. Soon I reversed course and started skipping certain things I didn’t feel like doing. I walked past the dishes in the sink and let the unfolded laundry wait for later. I deleted a few events from my calendar. Decided I’d rather do something else instead.

Gotta say, I liked where this was headed.

Some of you may wonder what the big deal is here. Aren’t we all free-thinking folks with the ability to choose a course for ourselves? Sure. But something about my internal wiring has left me forever reluctant to hop on board the train to Changed My Mind. Seems like any time an activity has ever hit my To Do list, it has been cemented there.

Normally, I wouldn’t have made that beach trip until all the other undesirable chores were finished first. Ditto for settling in at night to read a book or work on my manuscript. Those things feel too leisurely, as if surely some punishment must be completed first. All this stems from my responsibility gene, I’ve decided. The same one that has me attending social functions out of a sense of duty and obligation, even if I’d rather be somewhere else. I’m starting to change my mind about all kinds of things lately, and in most cases I don’t even feel apologetic about it anymore.

It began with a comment from my friend Carrie last February. After asking me to go running with her on the upcoming Saturday, she told me it was okay to just say, “Maybe. If I feel like it.” No yes or no required.

Strangely, this response would never have crossed my mind had she not put it out there. I’d have either said “yes,” and honored that commitment, or I’d have said “no,” and then felt obligated to offer up a really good explanation of why not. And I never would have been so rude as to remain non-committal like she was suggesting. But having her permission, I took her up on it. And I discovered that I liked leaving my calendar open to make last-minute decisions depending on whether or not I felt like doing something.

It started spilling over.

Carrie was the only person in my cast of friends to offer this carte blanche approach to planning, but I started using it with everyone else around me anyway. I said no to requests for volunteer work (don’t judge me!), turned down invitations to do local races with friends, and even (yes… Mom Guilt here) set boundaries with my family.

I learned a few things. My young son can dress himself and brush his own teeth. My daughters can put away laundry and pour their brother’s cereal in the morning. And somebody else around here has been feeding all the pets because I stopped doing it a long time ago and, as yet, none are dead.

What do I feel like doing instead? Writing.

For years, I waited until everyone in my family was asleep before I started to write. I made all their lunches, loaded the dishwasher, picked up toys, and did laundry–all after bedtime–and then turned on my laptop at nine or ten o’clock and wrote if I had anything left to give. I don’t feel like doing it that way anymore.

I want to write a book this year. A whole book, not a few disjointed chapters spread out wide over the course of months and years. So, twice a week I’ve been leaving and going to my local library for about three hours at a time to write. Alone.

Do I feel guilty? You bet.

Is it stopping me? Nope.

Somewhere in here, there must be a balance. I’m still looking for it, just like everyone else. The day may not be far off that I’ll decide my new M.O. is selfish and then revert to my old ways. I’m open to that possibility. But this year I’m serving others less and writing more.

Admittedly, I’m having a little rebellious streak right now. Still, I hope the Stiletto Faithful will also consider what you’d most like to do in life. Once in a while, I hope you’ll pursue those things too, because you feel like it. No apologies required.

Guilty Pleasures

/in /by
I’m really not a big TV watcher. But when I’m down, or just need to relax, or when I’m a little stuck on my WIP, I do turn to what I call my comfort shows. There are a few of them.

Supernatural is one of my top favorites.

Once in a while I watch Southland.

Love Love Love Project Runway.

But these are all done, and now so is American Idol.

Last night Lee DeWyze won and all is good in Idol world.

I’ve written about Friday Night Lights–my other TV love.

(and it’s on NBC again so I can see the whole season!) Yes!!

But I really love another show.


g l e e

Raise your hand if you’re a Glee fan. Go ahead, all the way up.


Things I love about Glee:

  • The singing–of course!
  • The head-on approach it takes with toughissues like not blending in or being true to who you are.
  • The homage to pop culture.
  • A whole show paying tribute to Madonna.
  • Special Guest star Olivia Newton John.
  • Sue and the Cheerios.
  • Gaga day.
  • The melodrama. It’s over the top and God how I love it!
  • Kristen Chenowith.
  • Kurt and Finn trying to be almost brothers.
  • The angst.
  • The emotion.
  • The truth underneath the theatricality.
  • The cheerio, Brittany, who said, “Did you know Dolphins are just gay sharks?”

There’s so much to love about Glee. It’s a guilty pleasure… and one I’m not afraid to admit.

So here’s my question:

What’s your guilty pleasure?

~Misa


Free Children?

/in /by

Lenore Skenazy is a writer who I have followed throughout the years, having read her column faithfully in the New York Daily News when it ran there. She writes about life in the city as a parent and working mom, and I have always found something to relate to in her essays. She is a good writer with a great sense of humor with whom I always manage to find common ground when it comes to parenting, marriage, or living in the Metropolitan area.

Her latest book, Free Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry), sounds like a book that I would like to read. Rather, it sounds like a book I SHOULD read because as anyone who reads this blog knows, I’m a worrier of the first order. If worrying were an art, well, I’d be Michelangelo. In the book, Skenazy contends that we should stop worrying about our kids, stop holding them “captive,” and start letting them live. Let them discover the world. In her case, that means allowing her nine-year-old to take the subway by himself. In my case, that means allowing my eleven-year-old to walk three houses up the street to play with a friend. Baby steps, people, baby steps. I visited her Amazon page to read more about the book and was impressed with her sixty-six five-star reviews and complete lack of one-star reviews. She almost had me.

Until “Take Your Children to the Park…and Leave Them There” day.

While publicizing the book, Skenazy put forth the premise that kids should be allowed to go to the park and play, an argument that I actually agree with. She contends that children spend too much time indoors and argues that nobody is really allowed to go outside and play anymore. All reasonable. All true. Today’s parents, myself included, spend too much time thinking about what our kids should be doing, managing their time to the very last second, without allowing them to do anything but bend to our social will. These days, when child #2 asks me if he can play in the woods behind our house, my answer is, “Not without a friend! Stay together! And make sure you check yourself for ticks when you get back in! Oh, and don’t forget to wear sunscreen! How many brussel sprouts do you want with your grilled chicken?” as opposed to, “Sure! Have a good time! Don’t come back until I call you for dinner! We’re having all the foods you love!”

What I don’t agree with is the age that Skenazy thinks is the best time to try out the theory that kids should go and play and meet other children, all without the watchful eyes of their parents: seven or eight. Seven or eight? Those are ages that I just can’t get behind.

Believe me, I know children at the tender age of seven or eight who appear very mature, more mature than I sometimes am. Downright adult-like. But in reality, they aren’t. They are little kids who might have enviable communication skills or a higher level of maturity than say, some forty-year-olds but they are still children who live in a world that is populated by many wonderful and kind people but some not-so-great people. Some of these not-so-great people are even other children. I have had the pleasure of sitting beside a playground the last several weeks at child #2‘s Little League games and I eavesdrop on the shenanigans that go on while children are playing, and sometimes, these shenanigans are not terribly positive. Back in the day, we would have called them “character-building,” but in today’s “everyone’s a winner!” world, they are just downright mean.

Yes, I know: it’s all part of growing up. But the idea of dropping a seven-year-old at the park, particularly one in New York City where Skenazy lives, doesn’t seem safe. I think I could get behind a twelve-year-old being allowed to roam free, but when I (hopefully) get there, we’ll need a lot of xanax to keep me mellow as the newly-anointed “independent” child goes off to explore the world.

I think Skenazy ultimately has the right idea but to me, but we differ on the execution and the details. She’s right that we over-manage everything about children’s lives and that we need to back off. We put too much pressure on them to achieve in school and give them anxieties about life and their future that they just don’t deserve, in my opinion. But when it comes to freedom, we need to stress to them—and by “them,” I mean children over seven—that that freedom comes with responsibility. That responsibility includes being safe, being kind to others, and being respectful of everyone you encounter. And knowing when to involve an adult. I think there’s a happy medium between Skenazy’s world where children I consider too young can rule the world and my world, where my kids who have their learner’s permits still have to text their mom when they arrive at the library, just a ten-minute walk away.

What do you think, Stiletto readers?

Maggie Barbieri

Next Up, Something Different

/in /by

My next book is going to be a departure from my usual mystery. It’s a story I wrote long ago that was inspired by a family tragedy.

My son-in-law, who inspired me to write about law enforcement, was killed in the line of duty. Some things happened right after he was killed that made us all realize that his spirit might still be around.

As time went on, I decided to write a story based on some of what happened. Of course the characters are different, and the outcome as well. In some ways, I think the writing was a way of helping me through the loss of a young man I loved like a son.

(I have to mention that this was a horribly difficult time for my daughter who lost her husband of 15 years and had three young boys to raise on her own. This is not her story, though I borrowed a lot from what happened after she lost her husband. The fictional story grew out of her experience of course–but it is fictional.)

I wrote that book long ago and it appeared only as an e-book. After several years, I broke my relationship with that particular publisher. After I signed on with Oak Tree Press for my Rocky Bluff P.D. series, the publisher asked if I had any older books I’d like to put on Kindle. One of the books I gave her was Lingering Spirit. She fell in love with the story.

This year she asked if she could turn it into a trade paperback. Of course I said yes. So in June, I’ll have a romance with a touch of the supernatural coming out.

Honestly, I’m surprised by the turn of events. It’ll be quite different to be promoting a romance.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Books in Waiting (or the pile on my sofa)

/in /by
Some of you know I just had eye surgery on both eyes. It’s been a long six months of weaning myself off my gas permeable contact lenses so that the eye surgeon could figure out what strength of corrective lens to implant. During this process, I haven’t had great vision and haven’t read very much for pleasure. But now the surgery is over, my eyes have healed, and I can see again!!! I’m ready to dive back into the wonderful world of reading.

I have a nice stack of books on my sofa. These are the books I have just read, or I’m currently reading, or I intend to read over the summer. Of course as soon as I pick one of them up, I feel guilty for not spending the time writing. Oh, well, I’ll just have to deal with the guilt.

Damaged by Alex Kava
I had never read any of Ms. Kava’s novels before but I really enjoyed this advance copy. Wonderful characters and lots of excitement as the serial killer is tracked. I love the female Coast Guard rescue swimmer character and hope this wasn’t her last appearance.

Rules of Betrayal by Christopher Reich
I’m hoping to read this thriller soon. The plot involving a Doctors Without Borders surgeon and his double agent wife sounds great!

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest – all by Stieg LarssonI may be one of the few who haven’t read these books, but I’m determined to cure that oversight this summer. I’m just a few pages into the first of the three, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but I’m hooked.

Last week I went shopping in a real brick & mortar bookstore for books for my Dad’s birthday gift. I found him a non-fiction book about George Custer’s last stand and two thrillers whose titles escape me at the moment. The important part of this story – (insert smile) is that I also found a couple of books for me. Isn’t that amazing the way that works? I encourage everyone to shop for gifts in bookstores. I purchased The Ark by Boyd Morrison – a mystery concerning the search for Noah’s Ark. I’m about a chapter into it. So far someone has tried to kill the heroine twice in three days. I’m seeing a pattern and suspect foul play. I also bought the wonderful Nancy Pickard’s The Scent of Rain and Lightning. I read her last one set in Kansas and loved her writing. I’m anticipating great things from this new book!

How about you? What are you reading? What do you plan to read this summer?

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

The Business of Rejection

/in /by

by Susan McBride

It feels as though I’ve spent my whole life writing (and I have, in one form or another). I’ve been a published author for 11 years this month, starting at a small traditional press and ending up at two very big NY houses. For as many years before that I was struggling to get published, composing a manuscript a year and following all the advice laid out in Writer’s Digest in order to achieve my dreams. As you can imagine, in that decade-plus before I signed my first contract, I suffered plenty of rejection. Maybe I’m a bit of a masochist, but I saved every letter. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve wall-papered the small guest bedroom I just re-decorated with those rejections, probably with some to spare.

I know I’ve said it before but it’s worth saying again: the publishing biz isn’t for sissies. Most of us don’t have insider contacts or celebrity names (hello, Tyra Banks, Lauren Conrad, Tori Spelling, any of the Real Housewives, etc., ad nauseum), so we have to go about things the slow and arduous way: write, rewrite, polish again for good measure, research agencies that represent our genre of fiction, submit a query, wait for a response, submit chapters or a full manuscript upon request, and wait some more. More often than not, we’re told “it’s just not right for us at the moment.” We’re instructed not to take rejection personally. It’s all about sales and numbers and branding and platforms. We shouldn’t take “no” to heart. As if!

Writers are kind of like Tootsie Pops: hard shell on the outside but with a softer candy center. After pouring our hearts and souls into our novels, they mean more to us than mere words on paper. They’re part of us, our children, and we want everyone to adore them as we do. When we’re doing the Hopeful Dance of the Unpubbed, we try anything to get a leg up, often turning toward published authors for advice (something that was much harder to do before the Internet). A few times, at book signings or at an RWA meeting, I sucked it up and asked for help. Yes, I was one of those, pulling out a manilla envelope with three chapters inside, begging, “If you have time, could you maybe take a look at this and see if I don’t suck.” If Poor-Put-Upon-Author agreed, I was thrilled. If I got an encouraging note returned in the SASE I’d enclosed, I practically wept with joy. Only no one ever said, “Hey, can I forward these fabulous chapters to my agent?” Dang it. But I kept plugging along, ultimately winning a small press contest that resulted in publication. When I had modest success with that first published work, it gave me the confidence to get out there, do lots of public speaking, and meet more and more people. I made wonderful friends who didn’t even flinch when I asked things like, “Is your agent taking on new clients?” and/or “Might you consider blurbing my next book?” Happily, I found the support I needed, but not everyone said, “Yes.” No matter if it stung a little, I couldn’t let those rejections deter me any more than the stack of letters. It’s the nature of the beast; and if we let it beat us, we lose.

Fast forward a few years to when several of my Debutante Dropout Mysteries sat on the bookshelves and I’d ultimately signed with an agency I adored, one that was interested in my career, not just one novel. I worked harder than ever, promoted like a demon, wrote the best stories possible, and kept building on my foundation of readers and colleagues and honest-to-God friends, all of which propelled me forward, if not by leaps and bounds then at least by baby steps. I watched as publishing houses merged and restructured, creating a scary ripple effect throughout the industry. I realized then that just staying in the business isn’t always easy. Times change, markets shift, trends come and go, and sometimes survival isn’t based on talent as much as adaptability. It’s like being Madonna and adjusting your image. If she’d stayed in the ’80s like a virgin forever, we probably wouldn’t care about her latest boy-toy or wonder about her age-defying plastic surgeries. We would’ve forgotten her already.

Recently, I read about a book edited by Bill Shapiro called OTHER PEOPLE’S REJECTION LETTERS. (Oh, Bill, you should’ve called. I could’ve given you a dozen of ’em. Er, make that a gross.) Here are few prime examples contained within:

Have you seen the letter Andy Warhol received from the Museum of Modern Art rejecting his gift of a drawing due to “severely limited gallery and storage space”? What about the 1962 letter from Jimi Hendrix’s commanding officer recommending that he be immediately discharged from the army because he “can’t carry on an intelligent conversation”? The gifted writers who penned the screenplay for Casablanca were told that their work wouldn’t make the cut because it was “unacceptably sex suggestive.” Gertude Stein received a mocking rejection letter from a publisher that read, in part, “Only one look is enough. Hardly one copy would sell here. Hardly one. Hardly one.”

Did you know that Kathryn Stockett, international best-selling author of THE HELP, received over 45 rejections before her book was sold? Or that Jasper Fford suffered 76 rejections for THE EYRE AFFAIR? And Judy Blume received “nothing but rejections for two years?” (For more enlightening stories of famous authors who were told “no” a ton before they succeeded, check out this bit on Inky Girl.)

Just out of curiosity, anyone want to share the most memorable rejection they ever got? The one that stands out in my head was a returned query letter that had “NO!!!” scrawled across the bottom in red pencil. Ah, yes, I remember telling myself the poor sod probably had a rotten day (and then I quietly wished a heart attack upon him).

Who’ll Be the Next American Idol?

/in /by

I’m an American Idol fan. My kids and I started watching the show the year Carrie Underwood won. It was a good year to start. Carrie has a powerful voice and a strong presence. She’s sure of herself, and even now, throughout all her success, she seems (from the outside) to be sure of herself and to know who she is.


Then Daughtry came along. I liked him, but haven’t bought his music. What struck me most about Daughtry was his marriage and his commitment to his wife. He’s been on a good ride from what I’ve seen, I like his music, and I hope he’s still with his wife and that fame hasn’t compromised his values.


Last year, Adam Lambert took the spotlight. His success has been phenomenal. He’s been clear about his goal–fame. He’s super talented, has his hit song, One, and is still riding his skyrocket to superstardom.


It’s all good, but this year I’m rooting for Lee DeWyze. I like Casey and Crystal, but Lee’s humbleness and his transformation from shy to confident has been great to watch. He seems like a genuinely nice person (as they all do), and his authenticity makes him so likable. Like Daughtry, he seems to be so grounded and is truly astounded by his own journey and success so far. And his version of Hallelujah was really phenomenal. I love his husky voice and the emotion which comes through his singing.


Lee’s safe for another week, and may end up being the American Idol. We’ll know in a week whether it’ll be him or Crystal, but regardless, they’re all winners and all three of the final contestants are worthy and authentic. Heck, I’ll buy all their Cds.



American Idol is fun, but what I like most is seeing real people who appreciate the opportunity they’ve been given and are moved by moment they’re living in.


Are you an American Idol fan? Who are you rooting for?


~Misa

The Marriage Gene

/in /by

I recently read an article in the New York Times in which research about what it takes to have a happy marriage was detailed. The article posed the question “is there a fidelity gene” as well as “what makes a happy marriage”? The research is seemingly inconclusive, but I do know that a) I am happily married and b) according to the test done in this article, I shouldn’t be, based on my answers. (It was something to do with filling in the blanks in words and of course, I come up with the one that says I have a flirting gene. So what? So does my husband, apparently, who gave the exact same answers that I did.)

Oh, well.

I’ve been married long enough and have taken enough Cosmo quizzes to know not to put too much stock in the results of magazine or newspaper questionnaires. Just this morning, I took a test in a favorite magazine to see if I was left-brained or right-brained when it came to organization. According to the results, I am decidedly left-brained and should have the most organized house on the planet as a result. But just because I say that I like a place for everything and everything in its place, that doesn’t mean that I’m successful on the follow-through. Case in point: as I write this, I’m surrounded by fourteen manuscripts, about thirty pairs of shoes, two empty tape dispensers, and three half-empty cans of hardened paint. Does that sound like a left-brained mind to you?

But back to the happy marriage research. I decided to do my own, decidedly unscientific research into what it takes to have a happy marriage and surveyed some of my girlfriends who are in longstanding, happy unions. What makes a happy marriage? was the question. I told them, they couldn’t say “chardonnay,” because that’s already been taken.

Some of their responses:

“Separate vacations?” (I loved the question mark at the end, because apparently this friend was undecided as to whether or not a) she could say this, b) it was true, or c) both a and b.)

“Find a man who’s honest.” (This from a friend who says her husband will go back to a store to return 50 cents if he has received it in error. Sounds like a keeper. And my separated-at-birth twin.)

“Learn the art of communication.” (Friend who says that her husband, like many men, is unemotional to the point of being “Spock-like.” She has learned to temper her emotions and he has learned to become more sensitive.)

“Compromise…know when to give in…leave the ego at the door. We’re in this together and sometimes you need to give in.” (As far as I’m concerned, that works in theory, as long as he’s the one doing the compromising…I KID!)

“Keep the funny in a marriage not just by doing “fun” things but by keeping a sense of humor and by acting silly sometimes.” (Friend who reported this said it works with kids and pets, too. I haven’t found that to be true, but I’ll keep trying.)

Besides “chardonnay,” I got nuthin’. But I will say that marrying the easiest person in the world to live with (and I’m not talking about me here) definitely helps. As does marrying someone who likes to do the chores you abhor, like emptying the dishwasher, or taking care of outside stuff. There is also the sharing values thing and the ability to watch the television program that the other thinks is scintillating (which is why my husband knows all of the names of the “Real Housewives of New York City” and even knows that one of them isn’t really a housewife).

I have parents who definitely enjoy each other’s company and that, in itself, was the best model for happy marriage I could have. Sure, sometimes my husband thinks he married a woman with the brain and viewing habits of a fifteen-year-old boy based on my movie choices (“Dude, Where’s My Car?” anyone?) but we still prefer each other’s company to anyone else’s. That, and the fact, that we both fail quizzes that test one’s compatibility and adaptability to marriage is really all we need, I guess.

Chime in, Stiletto faithful (and I use that term loosely if you failed the fidelity quiz) with your secrets to a happy relationship.

Maggie Barbieri

The Good and the Bad About Living in A Big Old House

/in /by

We’ve lived in our home here in the foothills for 29 years. The house was old when we moved in. It was in the days before disclosure and there were many things wrong that we found out after the papers were all signed and we were settled in.

Along with the house we took over a residential care business which meant we lived in and cared for six women with developmental disabilities. This was a job my husband and I loved and we did it for 23 years–until we felt we were too old to do the job the way it needed to be done and life became complicated. Hubby and a son got sick at the same time and our focus needed to change.

A few feet away from the main house is a guest house which has been home to many over the years. First to live there were my mom and dad. My dad passed away and my mom decided to move with my sister to Las Vegas.

For a short while, my middle daughter and her husband lived there.

Next to move in that house were my granddaughter, husband, and three kids.

Now the little house is occupied by my son, his wife, and another granddaughter.

Before they lived there, when that granddaughter was in grammar school she lived in the big house with us during the week so she could go to our little neighborhood school.

We had two grandsons living with us during the time we had our care home. One went back to be with his mom, the other we had from the time he was 11 until he was 20 and went off on his own.

And, guess what, we have another adult grandson–different family–living with us again.

Most of the time everyone eats with us, probably a good thing because I have no idea how to cook for 2 since I’ve cooked for eight or more for years. Daughter-in-law helps and she always cleans up after dinner. Because the dining area is big and we have a round table that seats 12, we host most of the holiday dinners too.

Whether having all these family members under our roof is a plus or a minus depends upon the day. (I’m kidding.) Actually, now that hubby and I are getting older it’s kind of nice to have younger, stronger folks around to help out.

Over the years we’ve done a lot of remodeling: added car ports, extended the living room and built a bedroom and bath upstairs, did over the kitchen, and once our ladies had moved on to other homes, we changed a little sitting room into my office and did over two of the bedrooms the women used into one bedroom for us and modernized the bathroom. And of course we’ve had to fix all sorts of things from the water well to bringing in natural gas instead of using a wood stove to heat the house. (Yes, we did and what a chore that was.) We also have solar to cut down on the electric bill which has always been huge with so many people living here.

Besides the relatives who’ve resided with us over the years, we also have a resident ghost. Everyone who has shared our house has said so, some little ones insisted on sleeping with us rather than one of the many empty bedrooms we’ve had from time to time.

Doors open and close on their own, cupboard doors pop open, I hear someone come into the house and call out, but no one is there. Does this scare me? No. I don’t think ghosts can hurt–only frighten if you’re so inclined.

This has been a great house to write in. When we took care of the women, I had a small office in what used to be a sun porch. When the gals went off to their day program I wrote all morning while doing the laundry–something that had to be done every day. Now I have a larger office with lots of storage.

The first year we lived here, I received my first acceptance letter. I’ve belonged to the same critique group since my first year here. I’m known as Springville’s author–a plus of being in a small town.

I love the area where we live–we’re surrounded by hills and can see huge mountains which are still snow covered and will be for awhile. The Tule River flows right by us and we have a great swimming hole which all the family uses in the summer time.

My Deputy Tempe Crabtree mysteries are set in a place like Springville though I’ve renamed it Bear Creek and moved it up in the mountains another 1000 feet. People who live here recognize places I write about and love it. We’re near an Indian reservation and I include it in the books too–though again changed the name to the Bear Creek Indian Reservation. Ever so often a Native American will come up to me when I’m at craft festival and say, “You’re the lady who writes about us.”

Yes, I love where I live–the house and the area–both have been an inspiration for many of my books.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/