Your Favorite Valentine

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by Evelyn David

The first valentine I ever received was from Charlie Riggins in first grade. It read, and I can still quote it in its entirety. “Roses are red, Violets are blue, I don’t smell, but you sure do.– Brianna Sullivan in Undying Love in Lottawatah

Do you remember your first Valentine’s Day card or gift?

Like Brianna, my first Valentine’s Day gift was in first grade. The teacher let all the kids exchange tiny Valentines. One special little boy gave me a ring that came from a gum ball machine. The fake stone separated from the setting before the day was over. Kind of like the budding romance. Another boy offered the actual gum ball and my affections shifted.

For centuries the idea of romantic love has been celebrated on Valentine’s Day. In the Middle Ages this Saint’s day was considered the optimum day to choose a lifetime mate. Today it is celebrated by the giving of cards, candy, and gifts.

Undying Love in Lottawatah is the fourth book in the Brianna Sullivan Mysteries ebook series. A novella-length story, Undying Love in Lottawatah continues the saga of psychic Brianna Sullivan who planned to travel the country in her motor home, but instead unexpectedly ended up parking her home on wheels in a small Oklahoma town. In Undying Love in Lottawatah, as Valentine’s Day approaches, Brianna is hired by the local police to help solve an arson/murder case. She’s also got family problems. The ghost of her great aunt keeps pressing Brianna to find out what happened to Harry, her long lost love. In her spare time the reluctant psychic tries to figure out her own love life and her relationship with Detective Cooper Jackson. Is he reason enough to stay in Lottawatah?

Do you send Valentine’s Day cards? Brianna has mixed feelings on the matter.

Anyway, my Momma always told me that Valentine’s Day was a made-up Hallmark holiday and I shouldn’t get swept up in the commercialization, yadda, yadda, yadda. To be honest, I often tuned out when my mother would get on her high horse about these issues. And let’s be honest, the woman absolutely expected a card and an increasingly expensive present when the made-up holiday of Mother’s Day popped up every May.– Brianna Sullivan in Undying Love in Lottawatah

___________________

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series

I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries
– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah
– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah
– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah
– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

The Sullivan Investigation Series

Murder Drops the Ball (Spring 2011)
Murder Takes the Cake
– Paperback – Kindle
Murder Off the Books
– Paperback – Kindle
Riley Come Home (short story)
– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

Rachel Brady, Master Trickster

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I’ve been reflecting on what motivates various people. This started about a week ago when I read a fitness-related article. Its premise was that some people are externally motivated to improve their health—lose weight for a wedding or reunion, win an office bet, etc.—while others are internally motivated. This second group simply likes healthy food and enjoys exercise. Our task (the article was written for instructors) is to try to encourage a shift, so that what begins as an externally motivated fitness prioritization will transform into an internally driven one, thereby resulting in a permanent lifestyle change and results that will stick.

All kinds of tips and advice exist to help with the initial change. I call these the “tricks.” Examples include:

  • Eat well for six days. Splurge one day a week.
  • Break up exercise into shorter sessions.
  • Reward yourself . . .

You get the idea.

Thankfully, I enjoy healthy eating and look forward to exercise. Where fitness is concerned, I’m internally motivated.

Thing is, I’m an externally motivated writer, looking for my own “tricks” to change me into an internally motivated one. You may remember this idea that, like most tricks, worked for a little while and then lost my interest. I have other variations. They go something like this:

  • Write for six days. Rest for one.
  • Break up writing into shorter sessions.
  • Reward myself.

Sound familiar?

I imagine that, for various reasons, almost all of us have played similar tricky mind games with ourselves at one point or another. It seems to me like it’s an attempt to identify an external motivation and practice it long enough that it becomes internal and habitual. Well. That is so much easier said than done.

Lots of writers say they love to write, can’t wait to sit down and get back into their story, and that their characters talk to them.

Not me. I want the story in my head to turn into a book by a means similar to a download. USB cable. Brain. Finished book.

Where is the button for this?!

In very special moments, I have experienced internal motivation to write and completed the task for the pure joy of it. Most of the time, I’m the “Mo-om, are we there yet?” kind of writer, but in those lucky writing sessions I’m the “It’s the journey, not the destination” writer. I’d love to be that person all the time.

I have a new trick this week. It’s very Franklin-Covey-esque and goes like this.

  1. Make a list of all the tasks that compete for attention in my head.
  2. Label them as important (long term goals) or urgent (short term requirements)
  3. Spend an hour each day on the urgent stuff first.
  4. Spend an hour each day on the important stuff second.

Why only an hour on each? Because the rest of the day is full of “life” and all that goes along with that.

Right now my list looks like this:

  1. Finish a writing project I promised to an editor (urgent, due 2/1)
  2. This post (urgent, due 1/28)
  3. Work on the WIP (important)
  4. Answer an email from a Blogger guy (important)
  5. Read the panelists I’ll moderate at Left Coast Crime (important)
  6. Send in my Malice Domestic Nomination form (urgent, due 2/7)
  7. Make a call about my credit card (important)
  8. Make a call to my bank (important)
  9. Make some CDs for my Spinning classes (important)
  10. Renew my driver’s license (important)

That is my head-noise, right there. When I list all my stuff out like this, I see that I only have a few urgent things and a lot of long-term stuff. Sometimes, the ratio goes the other way. My problem is that I can spend a whole night on one sort of task and never do the other. I put off writing the book because writing is hard and calling my bank is easy.

It’s just a trick. I keep looking for one that will flip the permanent external-to-internal motivation switch.

Anybody out there relating to this, or have I just revealed further evidence that I’m weird?

“I’ll be back”

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Ever have one of those days that just get away from you? How ’bout a week like that? Or a month.

This has been a week that has flown by, and at times I feel I’m hardly keeping my head above water. While I don’t think I’m a complainer, I do occasionally find myself slipping into that “things are tough, life’s too busy, woe is me” mode. I usually catch myself and stop; I don’t ever want to focus on the negative and forget about the big picture.
But sometimes, I’ve learned, I have to recognize–and embrace–my limits. Which means sometimes making hard decisions. Just yesterday, I dropped my membership to a national organization, and consequently to a local chapter, because I just couldn’t keep up, couldn’t spend the money, and couldn’t give it my all. It was a tough decision, but necessary, and while I don’t feel relief and I think I’ll rejoin at some point, it was definitely what I needed.
Leaving The Stiletto Gang is another such decision–very difficult, not what I’d choose in a perfect world, but necessary for me right now. I love this blog, these ladies, and the faithful Stiletto followers, but I’m recognizing my limits and realizing that with teaching at a local college, writing full time, mothering 5 kids, a husband in grad school (plus a full time job), a son with one foot out the door and into college, Books on the House, blogging, online teaching, and, you know, icky housework, some things just have to give.
I’ve been blessed to be part of this great grog, and have been doubly blessed by their open door policy welcoming me back as a guest. It’s been great, and as the Terminator famously said, “I’ll be back.”
So this is not good bye, but adieu.
And I know I’ll see y’all around!
Misa Ramirez

On Social Networking

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Social networking comes under fire a lot in the media and is responsible for the downfall of Western civilization, from what I can gather. I’m going to take another tack here and make a confession: I love Facebook. Now granted, I don’t love it so much that I’ve allowed my 11-year-old to create his own page, nor do I allow my 17-year-old to have her own page to which I don’t have access. Her membership into the FB community came with a price: a “friending” by her mother which, if violated or revoked, would come with punishments that only Amy Chua—you know her as the Tiger Mother—could dole out.

This isn’t a love song to Facebook, but rather just some observations I’ve made since creating a Facebook page back in 2008. I started on Facebook just to see what it was like and because my publisher and many other writers recommended it as a great marketing and promotion tool, something at which I am woefully inept. You can do only so much marketing and promotion from the comfort of your desk chair in your attic, I came to find out. Obviously, it has reconnected me with a lot of old friends. Curiously, almost my entire high school graduating class is on there and getting to know many of them has been a blast. Many of them are excited that I am a writer and have bought all of my books, even suggesting them to their extensive friend lists.

My husband has remarked that I am perfectly suited to the world of Facebook because I am a social person by nature. If I were a dog, I would be a Golden Retriever. If he were a dog…well, we’re not sure what he’d be. He’s social, but not as social as I am. He likes the computer, but only for work. He is mildly curious about social networking, but not enough for him to explore this new world. “But still,” I protest when we discuss, “you’d find people you went to high school with!” to which he replies, “I wasn’t looking for them.”

True enough.

I still don’t know what kind of dog that makes him.

I wouldn’t say I post a lot of status updates, but I do post my fair share. For the most part, they are well thought-out; I try to avoid the “making pork chops now” posts which tell people just a little too much about the sorry state of my cooking and inventiveness on a given night. I try to stay away from politics, but there do come times when I just can’t keep my fat mouth shut, try as I may. Those instances are rare and hopefully, strike a chord among the majority of disgruntled Americans or those of us who aren’t writing manifestos in our cabins in the woods. Maybe not. I have been accused of leaning a little to the left, so who knows?

There are certain things about Facebook I don’t like. For one, I don’t like oversharing. Letting me know that your spouse is more-than-skilled in the boudoir makes my skin crawl, for some reason, as do posts about your viewing of people doing disgusting things in public places. If you found their behavior revolting, why would you want to share that? More to the point, why would I want to read about it? Better to try to wipe their actions clean from your mind. I don’t enjoy the hijacking of the comments section—you know what I mean, when one person comments on your status only to incur the wrath of someone else who read the status and the comments and who then feels compelled to take issue? Hate that. Your entire day is spent deleting comments from two angry commenters who really need to take their fight outside.

I also don’t like when a post that I actually spent some time thinking about and that meant something to me is then appropriated by one of my friends who says “Great post! I’m reposting!” without giving me credit. It’s called plagiarism and it applies to Facebook, people. There’s nothing more frustrating than seeing that person’s comments section populated by “Brilliant!” “Wish I could have said it like that!” “Well said” and know that only two people know the truth about where the post came from and it wasn’t from the brain of your now-unfriended former Facebook friend. I’m a writer and writers are very proprietary of their words.

Maybe I could start a trend: Facebook status copyrighting?

Too much?

All in all, the same basic codes of etiquette and civility that apply in daily life should apply to social networking. In other words, if you wouldn’t want your mother to read it, don’t post it.

Tell me, Stiletto friends, some of whom may also be in my Facebook cohort, what do you think of social networking? How do you use it? And what are your pet peeves?

Maggie Barbieri

New Photo and New Book

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by Marilyn Meredith
http://fictionforyou.com/

This photo was taken at my grandaughter’s wedding. We all had such a great time. And she having so much fun writing on Facebook that she’s going here and there with her husband.

Now it’s time for me to buckle down to work. I’ll soon have a new Rocky Bluff P.D. crime novel coming out called Angel Lost and I just received the cover for it last night and I love it.

Here’s the official blurb:

As plans for her perfect wedding fill her mind, Officer Stacey Wilbur is sent out to trap a flasher, the new hire realizes Rocky Bluff P.D. is not the answer to his problems, Abel Navarro’s can’t concentrate on the job because of worry about his mother, Officer Gordon Butler has his usual upsets, the sudden appearance of an angel in the window of a furniture store captures everyone’s imagination and causes problems for RBPD, and then the worst possible happens—will Stacey and Doug’s wedding take place?

While I’m planning the promo for this book, I’m also writing a new Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery and I’m on Chapter 6. Though I know where I’m going, more or less, it’s been hard to concentrate with all the wedding excitement going on around me.

I’m also in the process of reading the Rocky Bluff P.D. novel that comes after Angel Lost to my critique group, chapter by chapter. The group is always my first editor.

The Rocky Bluff P.D. series is different in that it’s always about the officers and their families as well as whatever crimes are going on the small beach community. A book may focus more on one character than another and new characters are introduced, but the main group of people who inhabit the Rocky Bluff P.D. and their families are always going to have their lives chronicled in one way or another.

Of course, because Angel Lost will be available in March, I must get busy with my promotion plans.

I do have a blog tour planned, and several in-person events, but there’s always more to do, so I’m signing off and getting busy.

Saying Goodbye Gracefully

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by Evelyn David

I’ve always been intrigued by the paranormal (see our Brianna Sullivan series), so when Medium, a television series about a psychic who assists the Phoenix, Arizona police department debuted in 2005, I was quickly hooked. I followed the series from NBC, who cancelled it after five years, to CBS, who cancelled it last month. I looked forward to the series finale with a combination of sadness and anticipation of how they would wrap it all up. Sigh. What I got last Friday night was an unholy mess. *Spoilers Ahead*

Multiple time jumps, fake dreams, an airplane crash, a Mexican drug cartel, cars exploding, eight years of amnesia, seriously there wasn’t a cliché they missed. There were moments when I expected Bobby Ewing to come out of the shower and tell Alison that all her dreams were just that – dreams and not psychic revelations. Even the last few seconds in the episode where Alison joined Joe in the hereafter after forty-some odd years apart didn’t work for me – instead of satisfaction that the couple would be together forever, it just felt like the writers were pouring salt on a wound. I didn’t want to learn Joe died and missed his kids growing up. I didn’t want to know Alison had to spend more years without him than she’d had with him. I didn’t particularly want to know about the kids’ grandchildren. I’d much rather have seen another episode that showed the characters doing the things they’ve done for the last seven years – Alison dreaming her dreams and waking up Joe in the middle of the night, Joe struggling to earn a living, and the kids fighting around the breakfast table. I wanted more of the same. Even if the series was cancelled, I wanted to be able to keep the family alive – well and happy – in my imagination.

Which got me to thinking about how authors treat the last book in a series. Lesson learned: You need to put the same amount of energy and creativity into ending a series that you put into that first book – the book where you were trying to engage readers into wanting to see more. Finales need to be respectful of both the characters and the audience. Do it well, and readers are anxious to read new books and new series you present. Do it poorly, and the bitter taste can wipe out all your earlier hard work.

J.K. Rowling understood the Herculean task she faced in ending the Harry Potter saga. While some readers might quibble with the length and events of the seventh book, most were extremely satisfied that she not only gave a powerful climactic battle between the forces of good and evil (the recurrent theme in all seven books), but she also provided an epilogue that gave a glimpse into the future of the main characters that her audience had grown to love. She didn’t ignore the harsh realities of the world she had created, and in fact, killed off several beloved characters. But to her credit, she was respectful in her treatment of their deaths and their demises made sense in the context of the storyline.

Ending a series is never easy for authors or fans. Fans will always expect more than the writers can give. They don’t want the series to end so any ending is often less than satisfactory. Most authors love the characters they’ve created and the line between fiction and a place at the kitchen table is mighty thin. Both halves of Evelyn David talk about Mac, Rachel, Brianna, and even Whiskey the Irish wolfhound, as if they were extended members of the Dossett and Borden families. So when we decide, if we ever decide, that it’s time to bring a series to a close, we know what we need to do and what we absolutely shouldn’t do. In the meantime, we’re still enjoying their adventures and plan to continue plotting murder and mayhem with them.

Stiletto Faithful: what finales, in books or television series, did you think were handled well? Which sucked?

http://www.evelyndavid.com
——————
Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

The Sullivan Investigation Series
Murder Drops the Ball (Spring 2011)
Murder Takes the Cake – Paperback – Kindle
Murder Off the Books – Paperback – Kindle
Riley Come Home (short story) – Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

The Mother Lode

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by Susan McBride

Today is my mom’s birthday, although we won’t talk about her age (since she doesn’t act like it anyway). As you read this, I’m doubtless at the casino with her, playing the penny slots, since we make a pilgrimmage every year to celebrate. Usually, she wins, and I don’t. But I try to make up for it at the buffet (free coupon!).

I’ve always appreciated mothers, my own in particular, even more so recently (if that’s possible). I’m not sure where I’d be right now if not for my mom’s wholehearted endorsement of my doing this writing thing. I knew I wanted to be a novelist at 19, when I wrote my first grown-up novel in between transferring colleges. While my business-minded father bemoaned my even leaving college to write a book–and to figure out “who I am”–my mom was behind me all the way. “You have to do what makes you happy,” she told me on no uncertain terms. “And no one can decide what that is but you.”

When I knew what I wanted to do, she backed me up, and I watched her do the same with my brother and sister. My father clearly didn’t understand the need to be creative (well, he was an IBM guy, through and through), but my mom did. Even though she wasn’t any kind of artist, nor did she strive to be, she was one of the most creative people I’ve ever known. She made up songs as we drove to the grocery store or to the zoo (something I do to this day!). She helped me with school projects (never doing them for me, just assisting), and I had the best time creating Conestoga wagons out of shoeboxes and cutting up old encyclopedias to do a map of Big Cats Around the World.

You’ve probably even heard me mention her creative meals. I never knew what I was going to see when I opened my lunchbox. On holidays especially, it could get very interesting. I remember sandwiches cut in the shape of four-leaf clovers on St. Patrick’s Day (and, that night, green milk and green mashed potatoes with dinner). One day, she packed cookies shaped like dog biscuits, which I loved and which freaked out my friends.

Christmases and Easters were incredible. Mom was–and still is–a decorating fiend. And, oh, did we get gorgeous Easter baskets! Each one hidden somewhere in the house so we had to find them. She dyed eggs, too, every color imaginable, and she hid them outside. There was always something to look forward to.

As I got older and as we moved around, I realized what a grounding force she was. No matter where we lived–or what kind of troubles we had adjusting–she tried to make things better, or at least remind us that we wouldn’t be the new kids forever, that sometimes life sucked but that didn’t last. Even when we disagreed, I respected her point of view. I’m pretty sure she respected mine as well.

Just the other day, I mentioned the idea that we all have a gift, even if some of us might not realize what that is for a long time. To which, my mom remarked, “I still don’t know what mine is.” And I said, “It’s being a mother. You’re great at momming.” She laughed, but I meant it.

So much of what’s in the novels I write involves mothers and daughters. I didn’t do it consciously, but it’s there just the same. Maybe it’s because of the amazing complexity of mother-daughter relationships. They grow, they change, they evolve. They’re full of push and pull and compromise. And they have a life-long effect on us.

When my grandmother passed, I could only imagine how hard that was on my mom. I want to think my mother will live forever and see me through whatever else life throws at me. On today, her birthday, I want to thank my mom and moms like her everywhere, who’ve taken on the hardest job there is and who do it with such passion. May you all continue to blow out the candles on the cake for many more years to come.

A Belly Dancing Adventure

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Beware of Groupon. You might find yourself in a Belly Dancing class in Irving, if you’re not careful.

My Belly Dancing adventure began last October, or so, when a friend forwarded a Groupon offer for Belly Dancing classes. Sure!, I thought. I can do that. Easy to pay $20 for 4 classes with no specifics…yet.

Months came and went, and with the expiration date looming, we had to actually make a commitment to go to the classes. The problem? Tracy had major conflicts with her childrens’ schedules, and Kym had a conflict with a meeting she was supposed to attend. But we’d committed to these classes and it was now or never. Learn to Belly Dance or we’d lose our certificate.

So we went.

We braved unexpected traffic along two highways as we went back and forth through Grapevine for Music Theater.

But no worries. I was prepared for the caper! I’d prepped with pre-Belly Dancing caffeine.

I was afraid I’d feel the coffee jiggling around in my stomach, but since we were late, I needn’t have worried.

We couldn’t find the address when we finally made it to Irving/Las Colinas. Class started at 11:00. Note the time!

We finally found it at 11:07. Yikes!

Of course, we paused long enough to take a quick picture so I could write about our adventure.

Which one doesn’t belong?

The real Belly Dancer/teacher. ‘Cause she knew what she was doing and we, most definitely, did not!

**As a sidenote, I was chastised for trying to take a picture during our ‘break time’. No phones in Belly Dancing class so as not to waste the teacher’s time. I managed this one, though, and then she was kind enough to take the group photo with us (above).**

Things I learned from Belly Dancing:
1. It’s harder than it looks.
2. When I go “up” “down” with my hips, I feel the jigglies. The teacher has no jigglies.
3. Doing the combos in class was one thing; practicing them at home was quite another.
4. Belly Dancing is for people of all sizes, shapes, and ages. Really. The class was FULL!

It was fun.
1. It made me feel a wee bit sexy. Okay, maybe not, but it made me feel like I had the potential to be a wee bit sexy if I practice enough.
2. It is not like a yoga workout; yoga has no adorned hip scarves for one.
3. Graduation night for our class is called Harem Night. Yikes.

I may just continue Belly Dancing after my 4 weeks are up. We’ll see if I get better. Regardless, it was a great experience, something different (which keeps the mind young!), and may be fuel for a book plot, who knows. I’m thinking Lola Cruz would have a lot of fun Belly Dancing, don’t you?

If you happen to be in the Dallas/FW area and want more info on Belly Dancing click here:
Dana’s Dance Academy
Blue Anjou(Flower Mound)

On another note, if you’re interested in indie publishing, check out this brand new blog: The Writer’s Guide to ePublishing. Real numbers, tips, and resources for every writer. I’ll be writing about this awesome web site next week!

Misa

The Voices in My Head

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I recently attended Crime Bake, a convention in Massachusetts for mystery writers and fans. I was fortunate enough to see Dennis Lehane, one of my favorite authors, speak about writing. Recently, after publishing several stand-alone novels, which unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past decade, you’ve heard of: Shutter Island, Mystic River, The Given Day. But it’s his series featuring Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro that I’ve been eagerly awaiting another installment of, and this past year, my wish was granted when he published Moonlight Mile, the sixth book in the series. One of the attendees at Crime Bake asked him why he a) stopped writing the series and b) why he returned to it. He answered that after he published the fifth book in the series, around ten years ago, Patrick stopped talking to him. And he decided to write a new book in the series a year or so ago because Patrick had started talking to him again.

I understood exactly what he was talking about, because Alison Bergeron talks to me constantly. If she’s not complaining about her pot belly, she’s itching for a new mystery to solve. So it has been easy working up a new story because Alison has a lot of stories to tell me and they are easy for me to transcribe. But lately I’ve noticed that I have a trio of new characters talking to me and what they have to say is very interesting. One is partially deaf, the other makes jam for a living, and another is an obstetrician. Yet another, whose role is yet to be determined, is a very handsome detective with his own secrets. All very disparate, all very much alive to me. And all involved in a murder.

With all of this going on, my head is a very crowded place right now. No wonder I keep forgetting to buy toilet paper at the grocery store.

I never anticipated that this would happen. I just assumed that Alison would keep talking to me and Crawford would whisper sweet nothings in my ear every now and again that he would, in turn, then whisper to Alison. Max would continue to screech about her issues, and Fred would grunt. Other people would cycle in and out of the stories I was told and they would provide new life for the next book. The nuns would make me feel guilty for thinking impure thoughts. So it’s very exciting to think that there are a bunch of other characters floating around in there, just waiting for me to tell their stories.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Writers write and there is so much potential in the world and the people around us to come up with new ideas and new characters. It reminds me of when people talk about having extrasensory perception: you just have to be open to the energy around you. It’s the same with writers. We just have to be open to what’s around us—and listen to the voices in our heads—in order to make a new story come to life.

I’m interested, most of all, from our Stiletto faithful if your characters talk to you or if there is some other way that your stories begin. What makes you want to sit down and write?

Maggie Barbieri

Jessi and Jerry’s Wedding

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Jessi, the bride and her grandmother–me.

I am not the best photographer in the world, nor do I know how to crop pictures, but this is during the wedding, and my son-in-law is officiating.

Things didn’t start well. The D.J. who had the music for the processional had a flat tire. Once he had that fixed, he got lost. He finally found his way about 45 minutes after the wedding was to start. Actually, that turned out okay because a lot of the groom’s family and friends were late getting there. In fact, we were asked to move some of Jessi’s family and friend to the other side because it was so empty.

Jerry’s mom made all the food–Tri-Tip, rice and beans, tortillas, and salsa. Everything was delicious. Traditional things from our culture and the Mexican culture were intertwined. Members of the family and friends paid for various parts of the wedding. And everyone helped on both sides. (That’s the only way it could’ve happened since the kids decided to get married so soon after the engagement–1 1/2 months planning.)


The first dance, with Jessi and her dad, our son, Matthew.

All my kids together, front row, youngest daughter, Lori, middle daughter, Lisa, back row, eldest daughter, Dana, and the baby of the family and father of the bride.

It was a glorious night. I know that Jessi was happy and that made me happy. I stayed up way past my bedtime.

One of my grown granddaughters came with her kids and the stayed that night with us. Genie and I talked far too long into the night.

I promise I won’t talk anymore about the wedding, but I’ve had a great time showing off.

Marilyn