The sadness of the bunk beds

Did you like that title?  It's because I'm reading THE ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG right now, and so I keep turning my life into titles modeled on that one.

(BTW I am intrigued by the book but not loving it as much as I want to.  I assume this a problem with me rather than with the book.)

Anyway.  I woke up this morning feeling kinda sad.  But why I asked myself.  Is it that the bunk beds are gone now?  We happily let Lawyer Son and his family take them this weekend.  They've just moved into a great little bungalow, and they're starting out their lives just like Ken and I were thirty years ago--looking forward to a bunch of stuff including more kids in bunk beds, which is awesome.

But having those bunk beds leave our house means that yup.  That part of our life is d.o.n.e. done.  I'm still adjusting to the fact.  So maybe that's why I'm sad.

Or maybe I'm sad because I have the stomach flu this morning and don't feel like eating the rest of the Magleby's chocolate cake in our cupboard.  That isn't just sad--that's tragic.

Thank you, Blogspot!

I've said this here before, but one of the good things about blogging for me personally is that I can often take quickly conceived blog entries and turn them into columns.  I did it this week!

It's v. true that parting is such sweet sorrow

We said good-bye to the Northa Carolinas yesterday before dawn at a crazy cold airport curbside.  They're home safe and sound now, and although they had a good time here, they're happy to be in their own nest.  And that's exactly how things should be.

I just want to say how much I enjoyed them.

I loved my granddaughter's coy looks, determined efforts to put oversized nickels into a plastic piggy bank, delight in the snow, and interest in the petting zoo that is our house.  Seriously, she's so!  cute!

I loved my daughter-in-law's willingness to laugh long and hard and to join in all the reindeer games, her appreciation of all things beautiful including a splendid chocolate peppermint cake from Tulie Bakery, her patience with a baby who didn't always feel well, and her kindness to the cast of a thousand in-laws (it's like an  Italian movie around here).

I loved my son's ability to recite awesome lines from every movie he's ever seen, his desire to make things (board games, excursions, meals) happen, his loyalty to the sixth sons, and especially his deep devotion to his girls.  What a good man he is!

Wishing them health and happiness for the new year.

Dear Christmas Tree,

Usually you make an exit on New Year's Day.  I developed this habit as a young mother who felt like she was about to go down the Rabbit Hole come January and wanted to make sure that at least the Christmas stuff was packed away before she did it.   I think I've mentioned here before that one year TRQ left our tree up forever so that the blue sateen balls were falling off and rolling around the floor and all my fifth-grade friends kept asking me why we still had a Christmas tree in the living room.  THE HUMILIATION!

When I grew up I realized that TRQ was struggling with a mighty depression that year and hence . . . the forgotten tree.  Still.  I didn't want a repeat of that experience in my own grownup house.

But this year, oh Christmas Tree of 2012, you're still up.  We've had company and surgeries and now the Oregon kids (back in town for good) are moving their stuff out this weekend, and I figured I'd wait for the take-down mess.

And guess what.  I'm enjoying you so this first week of January--your lingering scent and spirt.  You've comforted me with your lights and old ornaments and happy memories.  Who knew?   Anyhoo.  I'm glad you're still here.

Thanks.

What I remembered yesterday at the bookstore

So I went up to TKE for a few hours yesterday morning to help with inventory.

You know.  Inventory.  That activity where you count what's on the shelves, then pull what hasn't sold to ship back to the publisher.  Did you know bookstores can do that?  Return books for credit against a balance?  I think that was one of the biggest revelations of all to me when I first started working at TKE--that a book could be returned if it didn't sell.

Anyhoo.  As I watched Viv pull books by a fabulous author (and human being) who has won several Newbery honors because her titles don't sell well now, it (re)-occurred to me how fickle taste is.  This is a woman who was the toast of the children's literature world awhile ago, and now her books aren't moving.  And yet those books are still so good.

The takeaway for writers is this, I think.  You should pay attention to the market, yes.  But in the end you should write what interests you, because the world of publishing can (and will) shift beneath your feet.   And you should also remember that even worthy books don't always make it.

I meant that to be encouraging.  Was it?

Dear January

Dear January,

Here's something I realized this morning.  We stopped opening the mail at this house somewhere around the middle of December.  It just sat there on the table in the entryway--expanding like a bag of frozen Rhodes rolls that somebody forgot about and left in the trunk of a car with a bunch of other groceries on a warm day.  And then by the time somebody remembered . . . wow.  Mess!

I've spent the morning sorting through the mail, wondering how all this unopening happened.  And of course I know. December happened.  Not only did December happen, but then family stuff happened on top of the already crazy December stuff.  So the mail.  Well.  We just forgot about it.

Here's the other stuff we forgot about.  Dogs and how they do better if walked daily.  Calories and how they count.  Money and how it is a finite resource.   Sleep and how crappy you feel when you aren't getting it.

Anyway, I love the holidays.  And as you know, January, you and I have had a complicated relationship.  More accurately, the two of us have had a dysfunctional relationship.  But I received an e-mail from Louise this morning saying, "Whoever would believe that January is looking better than December?"

I agree.  Thank you, January, for the promise of routine.  Order.  Healthy soups.  Guiltless nights sitting in front of the TV watching The Good Wife or Person of Interest and possibly still a little Modern Family.

Best wishes,

Ann Cannon

Happy New Year! And hey! How about a few goals?

Hey, hi.

I'm hoping your holiday was a satisfying one.  We had, of course, the unexpected detour to the hospital right before Christmas, but I am happy to report that the Coach is recovering nicely and driving TRQ crazy in the process.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the year ahead with much hope.  I'm eager to make progress on several fronts, including the writing front.  And to that end, I'm gonna make some general-ish goals, which include . . .

1.  Getting serious about sending the first few chapters of a YA mystery out there.

2.  Developing an idea for a middle grade series--and speaking of middle grade, maybe starting a novel suggested by an experience my friends and I had while walking Hadrian's Wall.

3.  Publishing something (things?) online and seeing where that takes me.

4.  Writing a column for the Trib every week and keeping it fresh.

5.  Developing one magazine story a month and seeing if I can sell it.

6.  Blogging every day for the year of 2013.

Okay.  About #6  I am stealing this idea from my good friend Lisa B. who just wrapped up a year of blogging.  Look at that final post of hers.  It should be required reading.  And it inspired me.  I have this sense that a bit of blogging (and that's what it will be--just a bit or two daily) would be good for me as a writer.  And fun, too.

That's what I want.  More fun.  So let's give it a try, shall we?

Here's to 2013.