Memories
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Sunday Snippet: The “I Can’t Remember” Edition
Had lunch with Liz yesterday and it wasn’t long enough, but we both needed to get going, so we parted ways reluctantly. On the way to the cottage, I thought of something else I wanted to talk to her about, and I nearly called her from the car, but I didn’t because we both needed to focus on driving. I still can’t remember what it was I wanted to tell her… and that seems to be a theme in our lives. “I can’t remember… ” There are so many of those moments anymore. I can’t remember why I came back to the guest room closet… so I leave, get halfway…
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Sunday Snippet: The Grandboy Edition
Grandboy days are always the best for Husband and me, and they’re fewer right now because he’s in school and he’s involved in things like being in plays and doing stuff with his parents and friends. Plus ,you’re never sure exactly how interested a ten-year-old boy is in being with a couple of old farts. But in his words, “I love being you guys. This house feels so comfortable.” I’m not sure there’s a higher compliment in the world than that. He was sad when we sold the “Christmas House,” thrilled when we lived with him and his parents for six months, and sad when we found our new home.…
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Sunday Snippet: The Gone Fishin’ Edition
Yup… I really had nothing for today. My brain is exhausted and empty from finishing up the second book in the Weaver Sisters trilogy for Tule Publishing. I’ll be sending it off to my editor tomorrow and I’ll be on pins and needles until I hear from her. I’m never sure if I’ve hit the mark or not–sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, but with the help of my editor, the awesome and brilliant Sinclair Sawney, it will turn into what it should be. So, this morning, when I was lying awake in bed, wondering what I was going to write about in the Sunday Snippet, Son texted, “Anybody awake?”…
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Sunday Snippet: The Lefty Edition
No, I’m not talking politics, I’m talking literally from the left side. That’s how I see life because I’m a lefty. And not just left-handed, but extremely left-handed. Don’t ask me to do much of anything with my right—it simply ain’t gonna happen. It’s not always easy being a lefty in a right-handed world. I grew up during the time when old-fashioned school teachers thought that being a lefty was a bad thing. My first grade teacher thought it was just plain wrong, so she made me sit on my left hand and write with my right as I learned to form the alphabet. I did it. I was six…
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Sunday Snippet: The I Might Need a Vacation Edition
It’s been a crazy month so far. With the release of THE VALENTINE WAGER on February 1 came a flurry of promotion, blog appearances, giveaways, interviews, and book signings (one canceled due to weather, the other, a great success!). In the midst of all this, I’m still working on editing gigs for clients and doing revisions on the first Weaver Sisters book. My mind is a bit on overload and my brain is…well…tired. I was thinking last night how much I’d love to go to that cabin in the mountains of North Carolina where the Word Wranglers had their retreat last August. How I’d love to rent it for a…
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Author Spotlight: Liz Flaherty Has a New Book and a Holiday Giveaway!
Congratulations, Roseann McGrath Brooks, you are Liz’s winner! She’ll be in touch! “Some of the joys in being a septuagenarian are unexpected. Google is one—how else did you think I knew how to spell septuagenarian? Dressing however you want is another. It’s especially fun to wear what a blonde twenty-something on Facebook assures you is completely wrong for you.” – Liz Flaherty, Window Over the Desk Getting romance novels published is hard for me these days—not so much because I’m the age I am, I guess, or because I look the age I am, but because I sound the age I am. The editors I’ve worked with in past years…
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Sunday Snippet: The Rosemary’s Birthday Edition
No, I’m not playing with classic horror movie titles here, it is actually my mother-in-law Rosemary’s birthday. Well, her birthday week. Tomorrow, she turns 96. And she is still rockin’. At 96, she still lives in the little house she raised her two sons in–67 years in the same house. Can you even imagine that? People move around so much these days–most folks I know have lived in at least a dozen houses in their lifetimes so far. Even my kids are on home #5 and they haven’t even been married nineteen years yet! Rosemary still drives her car–not far, mind you, but she can get herself to the bank…
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Sunday Snippet: The Oh, Hell, I Almost Forgot Edition
I know, I know. It’s Sunday Snippet time and I’m here editing away and dammit! It hit me that I hadn’t posted my blog yet. Is 2:30 on Sunday afternoon too late? I’m saying no. I have a list of blog prompts for each month of the year, which I do not consider cheating, merely assisting. Sometimes, when I’ve got nothin’, like today, these prompts are my best source of inspiration. Today’s is “What are the best things about fall?” This is a terrific one for me because I love fall. Right off, I’m a fall baby–born in late September, along with my brother, my grandmother, my sister, my brother-in-law,…
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Sunday Snippet: The French Butter Edition
I love French butter. We discovered it in Paris, naturally enough, and it’s perfect butter. Creamy and delicious with just the right touch of salt. We ate it on croissants at the little café around the corner from our apartment and on crusty baguettes from the boulangerie next to the laverie (laundromat). It was sheer paradis sur terre (heaven on Earth). I’d never really appreciated butter of any kind before that trip to Paris because my mom bought margarine and that’s what I grew up on. My grandmother had butter at her house and I recall thinking it tasted…oily. And because the size of my butt has been an issue my…
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Sunday Snippet: The Mother’s Day Edition
It’s Mother’s Day. About every seven years or so, my mom’s birthday, which is May 13, lands on Mother’s Day Sunday. Not this year and honestly, I’m glad. The bittersweet of that convergence of memory-inducing events is enough to put me into a fetal position in the corner. There are days even after 33 years–dear lord, Mom has been gone 33 years!–that I miss my mother so much I ache with it. Not because she and I were all that close when I became an adult because we weren’t really. What I miss is my mommy. The woman who read to me endlessly, even when she was exhausted from working…