Last Chance to Comment

Because Seamus's schedule is a little booked these days, he will not be doing the drawing for Sara J. Henry's debut novel "Learning to Swim" until the evening on February 22nd. Thus, you have until 5pm Pacific time to leave a comment below and enter to win. You can't win it if you're not in it. More cliche's to follow...

Free Books!

Sara J. Henry: Sara in Vermont: My Friend Ben is Ever-so-slightly Crazy. Or Maybe Not. But He's Giving Away Books.

Too good not to mention this even though I have to start with "A friend of a friend...." but hey, I get to end with "...is giving away free ebooks!" So, yeah, click on that link and find out more. Then of course you'll want to leave a comment below and be entered to win a free book here!! The free book here is Sara's own book "Learning to Swim"--a pristine, autographed hardcopy. You only have until February 22nd, so don't spend a lot of time thinking about your comment (I know how you writer-types can be).

Free book Friday. Now that's a good, good day.

Bernard Pivot Blogfest

I haven't actually participated  in a blog-festy sort of thing before but this seems easy and fun. Launched by blogger Nicole over at One Significant Moment at a Time, it's the Actor's Studio questionnaire. I'll be honest...I'm just going to do it off the top of my head (there's a certain laziness to this approach, I know. Whatever.) If you want to join in the blogfest, better hurry...we're all supposed to be posting this today.

Also, comments here or in the post below will still enter you in the contest for Sara Henry's book, Learning to Swim.

1. What is your favorite word? Beagle
2. What is your least favorite word? Stitches (can't even stand to type that!)
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Coffee
4. What turns you off? Lack of Sleep
5. What is your favorite curse word? Ah, I'm a simpleton. It's just F*ck.
6. What sound or noise do you love? Silence
7. What sound or noise do you hate? Anything loud
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Literary Agent
9. What profession would you not like to do? Doctor (see #2)
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "All your dogs are here."
11.  
12.  
13. Okay, I can't get the formatting removed...this is not part of the questionnaire. But if you'd like to join in the fun (which this formatting problem of mine is definitely not part of), hop on over to Nicole's blog.
14.  

(Not) Live From Vermont!

As promised, this blog is on fire with postings now! So here is my exclusive, one-of-a-kind, only on this blog interview with Sara J. Henry! (And that's us at last year's LA Times Festival of Books). And you, yes YOU, have a chance to win an autographed copy of her book, Learning to Swim, see details below!

My interview with Sara:

Teresa: Sara, you've read the blog enough to know this was coming...my readers, soon to be your readers, will definitely need to know what wine to be sipping when they curl up with your book. And then, what wine should they drink as the book concludes?

Sara: I’m going to let our mutual friend, writer Reed Farrel Coleman, answer this question, as my method of choosing wines (it does have to be red wine) is usually Oh, that’s a pretty label or Oh, there’s a bicycle [or dog] [or kangaroo] on the label.
Reed says: “To sip as you settle down to read Learning to Swim, I would suggest the 2008 The Boxer, an amazing Mollydooker (yes, spelled that way) Shiraz. To celebrate a great reading experience at the completion of the book, I would suggest one of the finest values in sparkling wines, a bottle of Gruet from New Mexico.”

T:  In your other interviews you mentioned this manuscript sat lonely in the bottom of a drawer before you dusted it off and the good folks at Squaw Valley convinced you it needed to see the light of day. For those of us with dusty, lonely manuscripts ourselves and for whom the squaws of Squaw may not yet be calling, what advice do you have? (At least this isn't one of those wide open-ended questions!)

S:  Hmmmm. I’d say, apply to Squaw Valley Writers Conference, seriously. It’s a fantastic place, you get admitted (or refused) on the basis of the first 5,000 words of your manuscript, and it’s open now for applications. It’s fairly reasonably priced, as far as week-long conferences go, and they offer scholarships and cheap housing.
Failing that, I’d say join a writing group, virtual or real-life. (I also belong to Backspace, a $40-a-year forum with lots of published author who will critique pages and query letters.)
But what you really have to do is decide if you can let the manuscript go. If you aren’t passionate about at least parts of it, it may need to be abandoned. The fact was I loved my characters and my setting and the core theme of my book, and I had pretty much the same opening chapter you see now. But the middle of the book was pretty bad, with a meandering plot, cardboard characters and absent ones, and a languid pace (not a good idea for a book that turned out to be a thriller). I knew it was bad (the folks at Squaw never got to see the middle) but didn’t know how to rewrite. For this I literally blockaded myself, a trifle more severely than I first intended: I broke my fifth right metatarsal, had it pinned back together, got on a plane a few weeks later for a five-week house-swap near Sydney, Australia, at the beginning of their winter. And there, doggedly and painfully, I learned to rewrite.
Reread, revise, rewrite. And repeat several times. And read it aloud, too. It's very very hard work, if you want a good book at the end of it. Worth every minute.

PS The drawer is metaphorical - it was on a computer disk. Yes, back in the olden days when we used disks.


T:  Writers, particularly published writers, often say the key to writing success is keeping your butt in the chair. My (totally imaginary) personal trainer says I need to get my butt out of my chair. My butt, and my brain, find this confusing. Please advise: Who's right?

S: They both are. Seriously. I get my best ideas and work out all sorts of scenes while walking, riding my bicycle, or – try not to laugh – painting walls. I love painting walls (what I hate is the tedious prep work, because I’m a perfectionist). The rhythm of moving the roller or paint brush lets my brain run, and I find it oddly relaxing. And if you aren’t living life, you have nothing to write about, and you’ll lose the spirit that makes you want to write.
But you also have to write – and realize there are times it is not fun – and make yourself do it.

T:  There is, as there must be, a dog in your novel. How important is the dog and why isn't it a beagle?

S: It’s not a beagle because it is modeled after the best dog in the world, my now-deceased German Shepherd-golden retriever mix named Tiger. I still remember the ad I answered to find her: Mother pure-bred golden retriever – father traveling man. Six of the pups clearly had a German shepherd father, four had a black lab father. Oops! But now Tiger will live on forever, in this novel and the sequels.
She’s important because she is the boon companion of our heroine, Troy Chance – providing comfort and love, as dogs do.

T:  What was the best and the worst day you had in this books' journey to publication (we'll accept answers anywhere from the imagining of the story to the moment you type your answer)?

S:  I can’t boil it down to one day, but I can to one feeling: that horrid sick feeling of knowing I’d written a novel that wasn’t salable and lacking the gumption or confidence to actually do something about it – and sometimes taking it out and glumly looking at it and and having NO idea how to rewrite. Or looking at book reviews and knowing that I should have my book done and out there, and I didn’t. Turning point: when a friend's 24-year-old son got a lovely novel published. At 24! Nothing to get you going like that.
The best was probably the day my to-be agent, Barney, called me. I was traveling and had just plugged in my Ooma phone device to a phone without caller ID, so I had no idea who it was when I answered, so I was quite relaxed. And it was one of the best agents in the business – who of course I had never really expected to hear from – who had read my query and opening pages and wanted me to email my manuscript so he could read it that holiday weekend. It was completely unexpected and unexpectedly perfect, and a moment where my life changed forever. (And he called me back the following Sunday to tell me he liked it and to offer to represent me.)

T:  Will we be seeing you at the LA Times Festival of Books this year and if so, how do you feel about its controversial move from UCLA to USC? Is this important to folks outside California??? Where else can your fans flock to see you live?

S:I’m sad to see it move because we had such a great time there last year, I’d learned my way around, found several fun restaurants and built some nice memories, and it was within walking distance of a nice and reasonably priced hotel! Even with just one visit, it felt like home. Plus there was The Mystery Bookstore there, now sadly closed. (Note to readers: independent bookstores are closing at an alarming rate - go now to your favorite one and buy something!)

I’d love to come to the LATFOB this year but I think with other book events that I won’t be able to make it. But I have a bunch of events planned and more to come – I'll launch Feb. 23 in NYC and will return to Squaw Valley for a panel and reading Aug. 9!

T:  And finally, who do you feel is the next up and coming "dog and I both had cancer" memoir-ist? And how excited are you to see his/ her manuscript published?

S: Ah, Teresa, you know it’s you! I found you through your cancer blog (because I was looking for someone who might be going to a specific writing event) so was reading your blog while you went through much of this – and met you when you still had your post-cancer rather short haircut! And I will be stupidly excited to see your book published! And will be cheering madly from the sidelines.

 _______
Phew. I'm glad she got that last one right. And Reed did an excellent job on the wine selection as well--the New Mexico Gruet sparkling wine is incredible! (Chris uses it in one of his Forgotten Grapes shows...how's that for unprompted coincidence?)

And now it's your turn. Run out (or online, if you are a "butt in the chair" kind of person) and buy her book! It's a great read. Like Sara says, support an Indie and order the book from an independent bookseller...like this one:  Powell's or this one Vromans or heck, just find one near you by using this link to Indie Bound. Just buy the book, people.

Oh, and Sara reads the blog. So feel free to leave her questions, comments or rave reviews below in the comment section. In fact....one commenter will be randomly selected by Seamus, to receive an autographed copy of Sara's book! Just leave a comment before February 22nd and you are in the running! (Sorry, US residents only...the shipping gets a little crazy otherwise!) Seamus claims he cannot be bribed, but he will accept offerings of steak. Also, toast.

Happy reading!

Bumps, Beagles and More Books

You probably think I've been sleeping all this time, since the blog has been quiet. But no. That is not the case. And in fact, the blog will be heating up again soon.

I've been writing (you knew that). And traveling --I spent five days in San Francisco having fun and attending a conference. And  planning more travel--it's time for the Forgotten Grapes Paso Robles tour in March, and then there's Fiji in April, and plans for a Words & Wine France wine tasting tour in July and a Spain Words & Wine writing retreat/ wine tasting tour in August. Phew (oh, and click on the links if you're interested in joining us...except in Fiji; sorry, that one is a family trip! oh, and the France and Spain 2011 trips itinerarys aren't up yet but you can see the 2010 info; hey, I told you we're in the planning stages!).

And, I've been dealing with more doctors appointments. This time, it's for Seamus. Chris and I noticed a couple of new bumps. The kind of bumps that would pass for "old age moles" on any other dog. But as we all know, Seamus is not any other dog. So we took him to see Dr. Davis. Dr. Davis does not think it's anything serious and was quick to tell us that even if these are the mast cell tumors again, these were the kind that could be surgically removed and that's it. It's not a repeat of the ordeal we went through way back when (we've all blocked out that time). I have to admit...I was a little freaked out. It doesn't necessarily make sense (what does when you're dealing with cancer? Or potential cancer), but I have my health emotionally connected to Seamus. In my mind, the dog lived, I lived. The dog does not have a recurrence, I don't have a recurrence. So um, if the dog had a recurrence? Double devastation.

When Seamus goes for his surgery to have these bumps removed, they will also remove the little fatty bumps that have been there since shortly after he finished treatment (when they appeared and scared the beejeezus out of me), and clean his teeth. I have not wanted him to undergo anesthesia again for a long, long time. But now that he has too, well, we're getting it all done. So poor Seamus will have a stitch here and there in a few spots, and will have to be a cone head for awhile (he hates that!).  Chris and I had to figure out a date for the surgery where we knew one or both of us would be home with him all day (no doggie daycare or babysitter for this!). March 9th it is.  I'll keep you posted.

And stay tuned...as I said, the blog is revving up again. I will have two author interviews coming up very soon. I'm excited about both of them! Sara Henry who has her debut novel Learning to Swim coming to stores near you very soon. And Susan Conley, a fellow breast cancer survivor who was diagnosed shortly after moving to Bejing with her husband and two young sons and has written a memoir chronicling her story. I've got both books on pre-order. And here's some previews for you:

The book trailer (love that) for Susan's book:

Quinn Cummings reviewing Sara's book:

and here's where you can read the first chapter of Sara's book, Learning to Swim.

Read up. We'll talk.

Of Baldness and Books

I've been deep into my writing these days. And when I do that, I tend to stay in my head--pretty much all I'm thinking about is the writing and pretty much all I'm doing is writing (or worrying about writing, or thinking about writing, or talking about writing--either with Chris or with my agent). I even forget to write the blog, despite the fact that I'm constantly referring back to it for....you guessed it, the memoir writing!! (You are a clever, clever bunch.)

By way of brief update on the memoir...well, it's still progressing. Let me just say that writing is a lot of work. Wow. A lot. Probably the hardest thing I've ever done (and I've been through law school, the California bar exam, two divorces and um, oh, yeah, cancer!). Not unenjoyable hard, just....well, difficult. I keep thinking I'm getting it and things are going great and then, well, not so much. My agent has been fantastic walking me through what needs to change, what's good, what's a pile of crap not as good. The funny thing is what I'm working on isn't event the book! It's the book proposal. But the proposal includes a chapter outline and the chapter outline includes excerpts from each chapter. In a way, that's more difficult (or maybe I'm just hoping this is the more difficult part!!) because I only get a paragraph or a page to really demonstrate what that particular chapter is all about...and to make the reader laugh or cry or at least think. Or want to turn the page. 

I'm excited though. Each revision makes the proposal (and the book) better and better, so I'm going to push on. In the meantime, I share with you a book I just learned about when I got an email from the author. She's way ahead of me...her book is already published. Since I don't have kids (and Seamus was all "yeah, whatever, mom...cancer, been there done that") I didn't need this particular resource, but for anyone dealing with small children while undergoing cancer treatment....this looks to be a great help. And, it's a beautiful book.

Here's the email I got:
Hey Teresa -

My name is Sue.

I found out about your blog because I too was recognized by Navigating Cancer as a featured blogger.

And I just spent the last two hours going down the list and reading about all the different blogs.

10 years ago I was hit with a cancer diagnosis as a 33-year-old mother. 

One of the first thoughts I had (and I would wager ANY mother has) after hearing my diagnosis was:

"How in the world will I tell my son?"

Because I'm a writer, I turned to books.

What I saw portrayed the mother as a scary-looking emotional mess.

Or was decidedly sad.

Or far too technical for a young child.

So I decided to write the book I always wanted but never had.

Nowhere Hair explains a loved one's cancer to little kids in a way that is honest yet still whimsical.

"Sue Glader's words put it all in the proper perspective.  A wonderful tool for families."

- Kelly Corrigan, New York Times bestselling author of The Middle Place and Lift.

The mother is strong, fashionable, and yup, bald.

It does the heavy lifting.  (Without being heavy.)

And helps women tell the truth to their children.

So everyone can heal.

If you're feeling visual, here is the book trailer.

You can learn more about the book here, at my website: www.NowhereHair.com

(Where you can also easily purchase copies as well as on Amazon.)

I wanted to reach out to you because I'm trying to spread the word about how I am working to turn my mess into my message.

Whatever you can do to help me put Nowhere Hair into the hands of children and their parents,

I would so very much appreciate.

  

 

The author (of the email and the book!) is Sue Glader. And I have to say, I'm impressed she got a blurb from Kelly Corrigan. And you know...now that I think about it, I could have used this book when my niece was asking about my scarf-wearing! Remember this blog post: Talking Cancer to a Kid.?

Happy Reading! I'm going back to my writing....

Breast Cancer all-too-awareness

This past week has been filled with breast cancer news--some good, some bad. I'm fine--no issues. I guess I should be careful to start there. I had my two year check-up this past Thursday. Well, not so much a check-up as a "diagnostic mammogram" (which means the right breast only--the one that had cancer).

I've moved on from thinking about having cancer daily to less frequently, although it's now a significant part of my history. But the few days before check-ups and certainly the day of the check-up are always a little tense. The "what-if" sneaks back in. The possibility of recurrence becomes all too real. Chris and I (and Dr. Good Karma!) do a pretty good job of distracting me from dwelling on the check-ups with a little trick learned from Seamus's experience. When Seamus went to his oncology appointments the techs, doctors and receptionist at the center plied him with green doggie biscuits. Consequently, he loooooved going! To him the Veterinary Cancer Group was just the "handfuls of yummy biscuits" place. So when I have a check-up, now that I don't have 3 or 4 appointments in one day, we follow it up with a trip to the Cheese Shop of Beverly Hills and then dinner. This time we outdid ourselves--after the cheese shop we met Dr. Karam at the Los Angeles Art Show and then the 3 of us had dinner (not at the restaurant we had planned on...that one had a line down the block waiting to get in! You gotta love LA and its hip spots).

The news from the check-up was good on many levels. Because it's a "diagnostic" check-up, after the mammogram (and ow, wow, did this one hurt!) I sit in my highly fashionable men's boxer material gown and wait for the radiologist who then meets with me to go over the results in person, right there on the spot. And the radiologist was the very same Dr. Koo who did my ultrasound biopsy two years ago! You may remember her (or refresh your memory...or meet her for the first time...) in THIS post. She, like Dr. Karam, was brand new at the UCLA Medical Center at the time, but both are now busy, sophisticated, much sought-after specialists. It was nice to see her again and particularly so when she told me all was clear. And that soon I would be graduating. I get my annual mammogram (both breasts) in August...and then I'm on a yearly basis just like every other woman over the age of 40, and I'll no longer get the immediate in-person meeting with the radiologist. I'm returned to normalcy. Well, except for the part where I'll still see the oncologist every 6 months, but I believe that after my April appointment that will change  as well--I'll be annual with him too.

I have mixed feelings about this. I'm happy to be returned to "normal." That should be the goal, right? But then again there is something comforting about knowing that every 3 months I'm either examined by an oncologist or a radiologist is looking at my mammogram. It makes me feel like if there is a recurrence we'll catch it early too. But, then, I have to remember it was me who caught it the first time. So, I know what I'm looking for. And perhaps Chris and I can venture out to the Cheese Shop just for the heck of it, no oncology appointment needed.

No sooner had I come to terms with this, and decided it was a good thing to not have recurrence on my mind, then I learned that one of my breast cancer blogging friends had passed away. Daria was originally diagnosed in 2000, had a recurrence in 2004 and then again in 2008 when she learned the cancer had metastasized to her liver and bones. She'd been undergoing treatment ever since and yet still blogged, still encouraged others (including me) when they underwent treatments, and stayed optimistic until the very end--which still seemed alarmingly quick to me. Her husband announced her passing on her blog--he know how many people followed her and how many people she had touched.  For those of you who read the WomansDay.com article on breast cancer blogging, you will recognize Daria--she was also featured and her article was just above  mine.  She will be missed.


Sometimes, I'm just a little more aware of breast cancer than I want to be.

Real Housewives (Remedial version)

Glad you all enjoyed my adventures with the vacuum. As far as I know under the bed is still clean (and Shawn returns tomorrow, phew). I did get this nifty plastic lidded container to store some of my very many boots and shoes and purses under the bed (this time on purpose and in an organized fashion) and I was fairly excited about that too. Chris has yet to show me how to change the vent/bag/ dust collector receptacle on the vacuum, but I'm not particularly excited about that anyway. After all, I've already vacuumed this year so I think it gets put away with the Christmas decorations (yes, both of them.) But I do think I have a future as a housewife. I really do. So I'm moving on to the next step.

Fake eyelashes.

Look, I've been watching reality TV and alllll the housewives of (insert chagrined city here) have fake eyelashes, fake hair, fake breasts, fake lips and fake relationships. I'm not willing to have any more breast surgery, thank you very much; my relationship is very real, I need to be able to speak in my day job so I'm not willing to inject things into my lips (how would I snarl at people??) and we all know I did the fake hair thing for several post-chemo months there and it didn't really work for me.  So if there is any hope of continuing the stellar housewife path I am on, I'm left with needing fake eyelashes. Well, not exactly fake. More like my own eyelashes on steroids.

Remember this post when I mentioned the lingering chemo side effects and you had no sympathy whatsoever you horrible beyotches you? Remember those included that my eyelashes would grow out and then suddenly leap in unison from my eyelids, crashing and falling down my checks to certain death only to return again a few months later and then, like some sort of crazed lash suicide pact, jump out again? You do remember this, right?? It's important stuff, people. (It's no vacuuming extravaganza, I know, but how would you feel if you came to realize you could no longer rely on your lashes?).

My doctor also had no sympathy and basically laughed at my concern but did prescribe Lastisse for me. That product that Brooke Shields hawks highly recommends to magnify, extend, beautify and grow lashes that will actually stay attached to my eyelid? Well, it's been a couple of months and I've held onto that prescription feeling silly about wanting it and also hoping my lashes had been reformed and would no longer run away. So far so good, my lids are not naked. But if I wait too long....well, then I won't have any eyelashes to put this magic formula on.

Off I went to Tar-jay (I think this is suitably housewife-y, but I'm pretty sure this is not where the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills get their lashes). And here's the thing.... the prescription costs $96 freakin' dollars! $96!! That's a lot of fake eyelashes!  I didn't get the prescription filled. My insurance does not cover it. The pharmacist recommended that I ask the doctor to indicate that this was "medically needed" and then maybe insurance would cover it....I can't see myself doing that (especially as I currently have eyelashes) and I really, really can't see my oncologist buying that for even one second. I can see him rolling his eyes at me and suggesting I get my fat ass self out of his office and to a gym--because he thinks that will solve all of my problems. (I'm determined to try absolutely everything else first, just to prove his hypothesis on a systematic basis. Rule out all the other stuff, don't you think?)

So, help me out here.... should I fill the prescription because a) eyelashes are important and/or b) you all want to know if that shit works too. Or, should I save my $96 and maybe buy a nice bottle of tequila that will make me not care about eyelashes...or what's under my bed? Vote by leaving a comment below, or--boy, this has been awhile--there's an official silly little poll to the right. (Now if only they had a little "donate here" button...)

Life Not in but With a Vacuum

I think this is newsworthy. But be warned, you may not.
Today I vacuumed.

What? That does not sound even interesting let alone newsworthy? Well, consider the conversation in my home:

Me: "Baby, do we have a vacuum cleaner?"
Chris: "Yeah, I think we do."
Me: "Any idea where it would be?"
Chris: "I think maybe I have one out in the garage from my bachelor days ." (note: most stuff from his bachelor days is out in the garage, so this is a safe assumption.)
Me: "Can you go look?"

And just for the record, he did go out to the garage and locate said vacuum cleaner (he knew the odds of me a) going to the garage and b) properly identifying a vacuum cleaner were slim).

If you are thinking "Teresa, you're 40 something (mumble mumble..whatever, I can't hear you) years old and you've been married twice. How do you not have a vacuum cleaner," then clearly you either a) have never actually met me or b) have forgotten to whom I was married. Let me refresh your memory. I married husband number 1 right out of law school (read as "with no practical living experience whatsoever") and he had a mother determined to prove, daily, what a horrible wife I was. She did this by regularly appearing at our home to vacuum, dust, bleach, purge, snoop, cook, condescend, wipe, and stuff my our refrigerator full of eastern European foods of the stinky variety. I was a new associate in a horrible large, condescending, hyper-competitive, demanding, ridiculous law firm, so I was more than happy to have the help and since whatever she was saying about me was said in Hrvatsky (a Croatian dialect) I was none the worse for it. Okay, well, until we had a dozen or so people in our home and she took her bright red scalded hands out of the dishwater in the sink (where she had stationed herself for the entire evening) and shouted "look how I suffer!" My comment that the handle on the right would give her cold water fell on non-English hearing ears. And don't even get me started about the party where she exclaimed about my "barren-ness" to a roomful of guests...

So, right, I never had to vacuum during that regrettable for all concerned era. I'm sure we owned a vacuum but when I left I did so in such a big hurry "must grab vacuum" wasn't really a thought. Must grab tequila and dogs was really as far as my planning went.

I'm sure husband #2 and I had a vacuum. No. Scratch that. I'm sure husband # 2 had several vacuums and I still had none. But had I thought about taking any of the vacuums with me when I left he no doubt would have fought me for them as though they were well-stuffed IRAs or the very house they kept so sparkly and dust-free (twice a day). We had a nice, civil, reasonable divorce. I'm sure that's in large part because I did not try to take the vacuum or that spongy thing on the end of a stick, or the stick with straws on the end. I left all of those behind. They were his friends and utter strangers to me. Let's just say he had Only Clean Desires. And I, uh, did not.

Today though, today I had the urge to vacuum. Oh right, you're thinking I need to explain why I haven't vacuumed in the last 7 years of my life since husband #2. Okay, fine. I have a housekeeper. Shawn does a lovely job and prefers I not interfere. And, um, I don't own a vacuum.  BUT... we bought a new mattress set! (No, not Shawn and I; Chris and I) And do you know what happens when you buy a new mattress set? Right. They haul away the old one.

Which leaves that whole "scary, never before seen let alone vacuumed" vast space under your bed exposed for all the world or at least you and the mattress delivery men. I'm guessing, now, based on very recent experience, that there are people in the world who periodically (say, every spring) lift up their mattresses and vacuum under the bed. Or have vacuum attachments (more on this in a moment--I was fascinated!) that reach under the bed and dispense with the four to six pounds of dust hiding out there. Chris and I are not those people. We are the people, we now know, who allow dust bunnies under the bed to turn into large warrens of huge, frightening, pink-eyed, rabid bunnies with fangs.

When I saw what the under the bed section looked like, I have to admit, I was appalled. Really, truly appalled. At Shawn. (Kidding!) There was no choice but to vacuum. Having seen dustmageddon, not even I was going to be able to sleep above it, no matter how clean and pretty (and, as it turns out, really, really high) our new mattress is. And vacuum it I did!!  But when I was done I was not satisfied. It seemed the edges still had dust and there were areas around the bed posts I couldn't quite get to and nooks and crannies and ledges filled with dust. Chris opined that he thought there were uses for those things hanging off the back and sides of the vacuum. Brush looking things, a long tube, an angled thingy. I had to admit, it seemed promising.

I am so proud to tell you I tried them all, attaching them one by one to the suction tube thingamagig that seemed to be a really important aspect of the whole vacuuming experience. And by god, they worked!! I vacuumed, brushed, angled, and suctioned for over an hour--in just the bed area! Seamus howled and barked and threatened the vacuum the entire time which he does not do to Shawn...so I'm left to believe it was the sight of me vacuuming that frightened the dog. Clearly I was under attack. No matter! I was successful. I was so inspired I got out this can of stuff that apparently you spray on wood and wipe up to get a clean, shiny look. That worked too! And smelled really really good. Like my house smells on Thursdays that I always thought was Shawn's cologne.  Never in (my post-divorce) history has a bed area been so clean!! I almost did not want to put the mattress down on the frame. Except for the part where sleeping on wooden slats would be, well, icky.

Oh, and I need to publicly apologize to the dryer. All these years I'd been blaming it for indiscriminately eating socks and here it was the big, silent, brooding bed that was thieving footwear!! And not just socks. Shoes! Boots! flip flops! Or, er, flip flop. And magazines from 2002, Carmex from godonlyknows, paper clips, post-it notes, an entire blanket and a sewing needle (at least that's what I think it is and I have to assume it's been there since the prior owner lived here).  Poor, poor  unfairly maligned dryer.  One day I shall make it up to him by cleaning his vents. Maybe with a vacuum attachment thingy!!A whole new world may be opening up to me. Pardon me while I go sleep on it...

A New Year

Right, so it's a new year.  I'm probably supposed to have something profound to say...
Nope.
Nothing.  It's sort of like the epiphany I should have had post cancer. I'll work on it.

In the meantime, several of you asked why Seamus didn't have a glass of wine in our Christmas photo (see this post). The answer to that is...because he's a dog. Look, just because he forgets that doesn't mean you can forget that. But don't think he didn't try:

No, his tongue is not doctored in this photo. And yes, we did contemplate sending this as a Christmas card. For once, we actually exercised some judgment.

Happy New Year!