What are you eating?

Last night I finished the really dark mystery I was reading with some relief, Laura Lippman's What the Dead Know. It haunted me during the night, even showing up in my dreams, and now I know why I want to write cozies. This one was grim--about two young sisters who had disappeared and one who surfaced twenty-some years later. I didn't enjoy it, but it was so well done I didn't want to put it down and read the end with mixed emotions--obviously I got caught up in the story, which is every author's dream for readers.. But then I moved on to In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan, who wrote The Omnivore's Dilemma. I didn't get far into the book, because it was late, but his thesis is that so much of what we eat isn't food--it's synthetic. I'm probably less gulty than many in that category, but I'm still interested in reading his theories. I read somewhere recently that there are some vegetables that hold pesticides, etc., more than others and you should always buy organic--apples, pears, lettuce, and spinach were among the most common that I buy. So last week I bought organic lettuce--it's only thirty cents more a bunch. Think I'll keep doing that.
Ever since the holidays my desk at the office has been piled high--I never seem to catch up, and I know Susan and Melinda feel the same way. We need twice as many people. Tomorrow we have staff meeting and our three graduate students, doing directed studies, will attend the meeting as their introduction to the press. And we have a lot on our plate for the fall list, so they'll be busy--and a big help.
Meantime I've sent off Skeleton in a Dead Space to the publisher I'd been correspnding with and put it out of my mind as much as possible. The submission instructions were very explicit about getting permission for places you mention, etc., so this morning when I had breakfast at the Olde Neighborhood Grill I asked Peter if I had his permission to mention the Grill, and he signed his name in the air. I told him I'd be back for a signature on paper if they accept the manuscript. And tonight I started reading the sequel, which is about half finished. I made notes about what I thought was wrong with it as it is and am digging in. Figure once I'm in Kelly Jones' world (the protagonist) I might best stay there.
On the other hand, I'm distracted. I had a harebrained idea today. Our fall list has been shrinking--two books dropped out, one of them a small book that just won't be ready that soon and the other a reprint where the author hasn't yet gotten the rights back. I decided we should have a holiday book for our small book series, and then I got to thinking about how to do 15,000 words quickly. I am leaning toward ethnic Christmas celebrations in Texas, with recipes--we would include British and Celtic, Hispanic, Greek, Eastern European, and Scandinavian, if I can find enough about them. But then maybe we should do holiday celebrations, including Channukah and Kwanza (about which I know nothing but would like to learn)--and there was one other I saw somewhere, maybe on a Christmas card. I'll bring it up at staff meeting tomorrow.
Jacob was supposed to come for the evening tonight while his parents went to a meeting, but his school rejected him about 3 p.m. He had a 102 temp and what they called RSV--some kind of a respiratory virus (I can't spell what the S stands for). Jordan called while on her way to pick him up, and since I was at my computer I googled it. It's most dangerous to infants under one year and the elderly (is that really me?). She called tonight to say the doctor wanted to see him immediately, and she had taken him in. In my day, we would have said he has a cold, fed him fluids and a soft diet, and waited it out. Now they have all these complicated syndromes and diseases--I'm not sure if that's an advancement or not. Of course, when I was a child, if I'd had these symptoms--fever, cough, etc.--as the daughter of an osteopathic physician, I'd have been given an osteopathic treatment (no, not chiropractic)--not a bad thing at all.
Jordan said Jacob came home saying, "Mama's bed, Dada's bed, millk" and she told him he had to drink water befor ehe could have milk. When I talked to her, I said to tell him Juju loves him, and he said, "No Juju now." He wanted Mama and bed.

Goodbye, Christmas!

Jordan, Christian and Jacob came for supper tonight--I traded them for supper if the adults would put all my Christmas bags and boxes back up in the attic--I do not like to go in the attic and don't do it at all when I'm home alone. Jacob wanted so badly to climb the pull-down ladder, but his mother remained firmly at the bottom, handing things to Christian. The staircase is right next to the bathroom, and Jacob kept pushing her toward the bathroom, telling her to "go potty." At one point she let him push her in there, and he tried to close the door on her. Christian promised him next year he could help, and Jordan told him it would soon be his chore to put up Juju's Christmas. Jacob has new shoes--the kind with lights in them--and he is delighted, stomping around the house to be sure they light up. When they left he gave me a sweet kiss and leaned into me--his version of a hug. I've noticed that several of my grandchildren don't actively hug--they passively allow you to hug them.
I fixed chicken piccata, which Christian said was delicious but I didn't feel it was my greatest--the chicken breasts were way too thick, pound as I might. And the green beans had been in the fridge long enough to be a little tough. I made a new salad dressing (a recipe published in the paper from a now-gone landmark restaurant) using blue cheese powder that I had to order online. Delicious.
What started out as a dull weekend ended up being very pleasant--Saturday I went to Central Market, where a minimal list soon grew to an over $40 purchase--easy to do there. Then I had a yoga lesson, and Elizabeth taught me two new poses--for those in the know, they are standing cat/cow and boat, both designed to strengthen abs, in keeping with my desire to lose weight and slim my genetically thick middle. Last night, Charles, Mary Lu and I went to Sapristi's, the local restaurant where he can get his beloved mussels. It was a really pleasant evening.
Last week, maybe Thursday, I followed online instructions and sent my mystery to a company that had previously asked me for anthology contributions, which I happily wrote and supplied. Saturday I got back a letter of instructions for submitting my manuscript to the submissions editor. Not sure if this means a step forward or is routine. One of the requirements is an author tip sheet, all concerned about liability. I answered no to most of the questions--quotes from books, speeches, songs, the Bible, etc.--but yes to this is a book set in a real city and mentions real places. You have to show written permission for everything but casual mention, so I did what I needed to do anyway--started going back through the manuscript. I thought maybe I'd mentioned only three restaurants, but reading I was amazed at the specific places and some brand names I'd included. In some cases I wrote around it--particularly the line where I walked about the cardboard pizza at Chucky Cheese (I said tonight if Jacob has a b'day party there, I am NOT going!). None of that is in my manuscript now. Their carefulness is a good lesson for me as an editor, and I plan to share it at the office tomorrow.
The good thing about rereading one more time, in addition to catching a few typos, is that I'm putting myself back into the world of Kelly Jones and her family and friend. You know what? I missed them!

A day of blahs, writer anxiety, and the Kindle

Today was a day of blahs. Yesterday and today I woke up blowing my nose and blew and blew--well you get the picture. By noon it ws better, but I didn't have much enthusiasm for anything. And when I napped I kept waking myself up by coughing. I already had a head cold in December, so this is definitely not fair. Tonight I felt full of the blahs, but I got into revising a self-study report for the press, studying and analyzing a low stock report, and fixing my mind on other things than the blahs. Before I knew it, it was ten o'clock. And I've filled my day for tomorrow--Central Market in the morning, a yoga lesson at noon, and dinner with Charles and Mary Lu at Sapristi's. They serve mussels, which Charles loves, and tapas, which I love.
I have sent my first mystery novel off to a small publisher that asks for an exclusive--there are a few unanswered queries out there, but I figure they'll remain unanswered. So now I wait. There's been a lot on the AgentQuest listserv about the advantages of querying small presses instead of trying to hook an agent who will sell your manuscript to a big New York publisher and make you rich and famous. There are thousands of wannabees querying those agents, and your chances seem to be nil. Beside, since I'm still running a small press, this makes sense to me--more personal attention, etc. I don't every expect to hit the PW or NYT bestseller list. But having sent that first mystery off, I find I'm reluctant to go back to the second--I think I've ignored it for three months now. I think this definitely falls under the umbrella of writer anxiety--I like the first one, am not at all sure the second had the unity force, etc. This is the weekend that I'm going to go back to it--no excuses. Except that I think I'll clean closets on Sunday.Reminds me of Erma Bombeck who used to say that she would scrub floors or wash windows instead of facing that empty page in the typewriter--that was before the days of computers.
Meantime I'm reading Laura Lippman's What the Dead Know on my Kindle. Megan wrote tonight that she got a Kindle for Christmas and really likes it. I like mine a lot too. I have been buying so many papaerbacks that I don't relaly have shelf room for and yet am reluctant to discard. Kindle solves that problem--you can buy them cheaper and not take up shelf space. And if you delete them, they are stored at some mysterious Kindle digital archive, and you can always retrieve them. And yes, it's as easy to read as a regular book. I'm a convinced fan, but I wonder where they came up with the name Kindle.

The kind of date I hate

I had to stay home today to wait for the AT&T person to install U-Verse on the kitchen TV. All the other TVs in the house are on the system, but the original installation guy ran out of time, so he said, for that last one. So the man was scheduled to be here between 8 and 10--he arrived at 11, after I called to check, and worked until 4. He was really nice, polite, helpful, and all those good things--sincere about doing it right. But he spent a long time trying to take the cable across the attic and down the kitchen wall (and drilled a huge hole in the wall). Then he discovered because the way the house is built, he couldn't get the cable down, so he had to come in through the outside, which leaves a sort of ugly cable wandering around on one end of the counter. But the TV works.
Meantime, I was sort of trapped, juggling work, dog and cat. At one point I had both animals locked in my study with me, and they decided to spat. I think Scoob was playing, but Wywy was serious--good thing he doesn't have front claws. And Scoob got very needy about wanting attention from me, nosing my elbow until I couldn't write on the computer. I actually did get a lot done--mostly writing rejection letters or, as Jim Lee used to say, breaking hearts. I reviewed the month's financial reports and carefully read a short manuscript that I hadn't yet had to time to look at. Working at home gives me time for such things, whereas in the office I'm often distracted by phone calls, questions, emails etc. The result, however, is that I have a book bag full of copies, manuscripts, memos, etc. to be sorted, filed, letters to be mailed, etc. tomorrow. Probably take me all morning.
The evening ended better. Betty and I tried a new restaurant, Buttons. I wasn't crazy about it--struck me as a thirty-ish pick-up bar, and there was a stage where something was going on but I'm darned if I know what. Betty thinks they were giving cowboy boots and maybe a key to the city (I have one of those) to the chef. The dinner we both had was delicious--an appetizer portion of fried oysters on creamed spinach and then on thick, crusty bread. There was something just a tad spicy, probably in the batter for the oysters. One of the restaurant's signature dishes, brought from the chef's previous venue, is chicken and waffles. I can't quite bring myself to try it, but Betty wants to. As she said, you don't put syrup on the waffle.
Tomorrow is another busy day, starts with a meeting, then sorting all that stuff in my book bag, and trying to get some other work done. I guess the first week back after vacation is always hectic, but this has seemed worse than ever, probably due to doctors' appointments and today's work-at-home. I'm glad tomorrow is Friday.

Being a writer again

I have sadly neglected the writing part of my life in the last few months. I can give all kinds of excuses beyond the holidays (though that was a factor too)--but I got tired of querying and getting no response, not even a polite "no thank you." I was quite comfortable with my first mystery but not really sure where the second was going, etc., etc. etc. I read an interesting response to an online question about writer anxiety. The mentor of the day was an experienced editor and she suggested that many writers fear that the truth will out--I'm a fake, not a good writer. I'm full of cliches and don't have any original thoughts. Or, maybe, as has occurred to me, I've written my one best book--I think I know which one it is--and will never equal that again. Sometimes anxiety is ambivalence--should I continue to "polish" that first book or should I work on the second. For heaven's sake, you can polish forever, even over-polish.
The suggested ways of dealing with this anxiety were to acknowledge that every writer feels that way (a big plus, because I didn't think it was true), that fear is based on a "what if," which means you're borrowing trouble. Recognizing the fear is good, but as most of us know in the back of our minds the way to conquer it is to act. Writer's block? Write your way through it. As J.A.Jance once said to me in a mostly forgettablel meeting, "We all know the way to write a mystery is to put your seat in the chair at the computer." Easier said than done.
Belonging to Sisters in Crime and the Guppie (Going to be Published) group has taught me so much about the business of writing mysteries, but it has in some ways intimidated me--those ladies (and a few gentlemen) are so intense about marketing, the ins and outs of the business, that I think, with some 60 books or more to my credit, I'm a novice. I liked it when I could wirte, send the mss. to my agent, and she'd send it off to a publisher who liked my work. I didn't expect the business side of writing to be so all-consuming that you almost lose heart for the writing.
Tonight I took a big step in getting past the fear and the block: I sent my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, off to a small publisher, along with the requested bio, writing history and synopsis. They said either send the first three chapters or the entire manuscript, so I opted for the latter. I chose this company because getting an agent when you're unknown in the field seems nigh impossible, and I've contributed to anthologies produced by this same company, so I thought that gave me some credibility. Besides, because I work daily at a small press, I think I would prefer to deal with one. It will never make me rich, but it won't put the sales pressure on me that a major house would, nor the publicity pressure. I will of course be crushed if I get a rejection, but then I'll go back to plan B, whatever that it.
Meantime, tomorrow, I'm going back to the second novel, No Neighborhood for Old Women. It's mushy in my mind and maybe after having left it sit this long, I can sharpen it.
Meantime, I'm working at home tomorrow, once again waiting for an AT&T person, but I brought a stack of proposals with me, in addition to a new manuscript to read. Two weeks out of the office makes me fall really behind, and a lot of things have kept me away from the busineses at hand this week. Every doctor's appt. I canceled in December is catching up with me in January! I guess it's good to have a lot of work to do--I can avoid the January, post-holiday blahs.

Twelfh Night

Tonight being Twelfth Night, Jordan, Christian, Jacob and I held our usual pine-burning ceremony. I'm sure Jacob didn't know to make a wish, but he loved throwing the pine into the fire and wanted all of them Wrong! It goes from youngest to oldest, so naturally he was first. Then Jordan, Jacob, Jay from next door, and me--naturally mine sort of simmered but didn't burn until Christian kicked it into the flames. Jacob was full of himself--talking, running, throwing himself at people and occsionally throwing things--which is a definite no-no. But we had a good time--I had, over two days, fixed the best meatball recipe I know. It involves mixing all the ingredients by hand, then putting them in the blender, then shaping bigger meatballs then usual and baking them. Yesterday I quit at that point, but tonight I floured and browned them, made a sauce of wine and a bit of tomato paste and let it boil down a bit, then added beef broth and the meatballs. They were really good, and I'm glad to report I have leftovers.
It was a busy day--went to work and struggled like mad to get as much done as possible before 9:45 when I had to leave for a doctor's appt. Came back in time to go to a library lunch. Then did a little more work and came home. I've been working on pieces for my submission of my mystery to a publisher, and I'm going back to that right now.
Happy Twelfth Night to everyone--you can take your decorations down now, if you haven't already done so.

Neighbors

I don't know about Robert Frost's line about "Good fences make good neighbors." Between my neighbors to the west and me, there's a hurricane fence in the back and an open iron one in the front--neither are what you'd call privacy fences. To the east, my neighbor and I share adjoining driveways with no fence until you get pretty well down my driveway where I put in a fence to control dogs. But the fences don't seem to matter--we are all good neighbors, and I'm lucky to have these folks around me. Believe me, for years I endured much less desirable neighbors but that's a long story and I won't go there.
Jay and Susan live on the east in a wonderful, charming stucco house that they've redone with grace. They're there to stay. On the west is Sue, in a small brick rental that fits her and her two children perfectly. Except for deferred maintenance, she's very comfortable there, and I hope she stays a long time. Last night, Sue didn't have her kids, so we four adults had supper at my house. I am beginning to fear that when I invite them to supper, they'll wonder what leftovers I have to get rid of this time. Last night I fix scalloped potatoes with ham and melted cheese on the top. When I took it out of the oven, Jay said he recognized the aroma from his childhood--I sent all the leftovers home with him. But I really had to use that leftover ham from New Year's. Maybe next year I'll make Hoppin' John--my kids always called it Hoppin' Uncle John.
Jay is a good cook who enjoys it, and today he made beef stew, so I joined them and one of Susan's sisters, Cathy, who tried to teach Colin and Megan to swim some thirty-seven years ago. We had a great reunion and a lively dinnertime conversation--plus the stew was excellent. So I'm in the glow of good neighbors and grateful for them.
Today was the first day back at work after a two-week vacation. I admit I slept fitfully last night, probably aware of all that was on my plate and the fact that I had to get up at 6:30 instead of 8:30. I worried about getting Scoob up early and out but turned on the light about 7 a.m. so he'd know what's coming. Actually the day would have been fine if it weren't so cold and rainy. I got a lot done at the office and a lot more at home, but no, I didn't work on mysteries.
My next goal is to submit my first mystery to a small publisher that I've chosen, but tonight after dinner I came home to 35 emails, which took most of the evening. One day I'll get caught up.

Books, taxes, and naps

I finished the new P.D.James novel, The Private Patient, and while I know James is THE mistress of the British detective story, all I can say is it sure did end far away from where it began, although James connected it all neatly in the end. The first 40 or so pages, as I've mentioned, were devoted to exploring the character of the victim. But after she died, she became almost a minor player and we readers became enmshed in the lives of other characters. By the last third of the novel, it was fairly clear who was the murderer (although there was one other possibly credible suspect), but the way it worked out was a surprise. Would I recommend the novel? I don't know. I'm not a fan of British mysteries, and as Mary Lu said, it's not a book you can't put down. On the other hand, it wasn't a book I wanted to leave before finishing it (I have a real thing against doing that and only succumb on rare occasionas!).
I have started work on my 2008 taxes and separated everthing into categories, etc. Have done all my accounts, except my everyday checking account and, sorry, I just can't face that tonight. Another time, another day. After all, all those 1099s or whatever won't come in before the end of the month. And I've also made great progress on preparing to query a small press about my mystery--but I need some files from my office computer to do that and didn't want to go up there today.
I spent the morning finishing up taking down Christmas decorations, packaging them, etc. In the process I found tax stuff for '01, '04, '05, and '06. I can only hope '02, '03, and '07 are already in the attic where they belong. And of course I can never remember where I hid all the non-Christmas objects or where they go. Am still missing one black stoneware pitcher that has sentimental value. And I was afraid to take my grandmother's tureen down from the top of the wardrobe where I'd hidden it. Will wait for someone more sure of foot and hand to do that for me.
Charles and I had lunch at the Black-Eyed Pea--I love their veggie plates, though I think he cheated. He had baked potato (think of all the calories in the bacon and sour cream) and turnip greens, which I really don't like. I had carrots, corn, squash casserole, and green beans. I thought you had to choose five but when I hesitated over the fifth, the waitress said, "Seniors only have to order four!" I demanded indignantly how she knew I was a senior, and Charles laughed and said, "Because you are with one!" Then we went to Central Market, which always interests him though he doesn't buy anything.
And then I came home and had what I felt was a much-deserved nap. When I woke up I couldn't remember if it was Sunday morning or not and I'd just had my last sleep-in morning. Then I realized it was afternoon. I was so deliciously comfortable, with my feet wrapped around the very warm cat who was curled at the foot of the bed, that I hated to get up. But I did, fed the dog, and rode my bike. Fixed one of the dinners that makes Christian say I have odd tastes--pickled herring for appetizer, followed by braseola (the Italian beef version of prosciutto) dressed with lemon and olive oil, shaved parmesan, and watercross. Sooo good.
Which reminds me of a recipe Lisa taught me and I've been meaning to share: enchilada casserole that's the easiest I've ever heard of. For each person, take a corn tortilla and cover one side with green enchilada sauce (okay, you could use red), put it sauce side down in a casserole, top with cubed chicken, green chillies, and more enchilada sauce. Add a second tortilla, covered with more enchilada sauce and grated cheese. Bake until heated and cheese is melted. I can't eat a whole one--still have half in the fridge.
Gotta go. Sleepless in Seattle is on the TV.

A busy day and some odd thoughts

This is what my dining table looked like at 5 p.m. tonight. I figured if I got all the decorations together in one spot, it would be easier to pack them. Then for some reason between 5 and 6 I got inspired and packaged almost all of them--there are still odds and ends to be dealt with. I also went to the grocery store, did a laundry, sent off an office report to my boss, and started on the tax stuff, rearranging to make room for 2009 financial records. And then of all days, the February Bon Appetit arrived--that always takes at least an hour of my time. And doesn't January 2 seems awfully early for a February issue? It was just a few days ago that I got the January Southern Living--no wonder I can't keep up.
I have a new pet language peeve--people who are "looking to" as in "I'm looking to buy a car." What's wrong with "I want to buy a car." And from the TCU business school on the internet announcements came "Are you looking to have an internship this semester?" Yikes!
Some time ago I read an internet story about a man who had been in a concentration camp as a young man, always starving, untl a girl appeared at the fence one day and handed him an apple. Thereafter she appeared daily with an apple. When he survived and lived in New York, a friend asked him to go on a blind date and, you guessed it, it was the girl with the apple. They married and lived happily ever after. Sue and I discussed it and said, nice a story as it was, it sounded like an urban myth. But, hey, even Oprah was taken in and had the man on her show. The book, The Girl with the Apple, was scheduled for publication by a major publishing house when the author revealed that it was a made-up story. Yes, he had been in a concentration camp, and yes, he had met his wife later on a blind date--but there was no girl with an apple. Why didn't he just write fiction? Or why didn't he write the girl with the apple in as a fantasy during his concentration camp years. His explanation? He wanted to tell a story that would make people happy. I guess now it has a lot of people smirking. Holacaust scholars are worried that it will cast doubt on other holocaust memoirs. Reminds me of what my mom used to quote, "Oh what a tangled we we weave/When first we begin to deceive."
Thanks to Barack Obama for making mothers-in-law okay. He's actually hoping that his will move into the White House with his family, though he says he's too smart to tell his mother-in-law what to do. When I was in Houston, Lisa mentioned to her hairdresser that I was visiting. The hairdresser asked if Colin was taking me around, and Lisa said no, she and I were shopping and doing errands and going to lunch. In a most cynical tone, the hairdresser asked, "So how's THAT going?" Lisa told her great. I am lucky to have a great relationship with all my children-in-law, and I'm glad Obama has that too.
Some words I read today that meant something to me: "It shows wisdom to know what you want in life and then to direct all your energies to getting it." I think that means I should go back to directing all my energies to getting that mystery published.

Reflections on the year past and that to come

I started the new year with half my family present for ham and black-eyed peas. I had not been able to give the Frisco Alters their Christmas gifts until today so that was fun--I apparently scored with Maddie with a book that I thought was really sophisticated for her age but she badly wanted. It's a beautifully designed, partly graphic novel titled The Invention of Henry Cabrolet. Edie got a huge map of the world puzzle and had it all put together right after dinner. When she decided it was time to go home, she began organizing everyone's belongings. Both girls got small secondary gifts--things that had come my way one way or another but not through purchase--and Edie was almost more intrigued with her SPCA fuzzy blanket than she was the puzzle. We had a happy evening, and Jacob loved playing with his cousins, though Maddie snuck off some to the back room to read her book. A little after eight, Jacob made it plain he was ready to go home, drink his milk, and go to sleep, so now they are all gone. Mel had done most of the dishes for me, which was a boon, and I finished up the few left and am settled at my desk.

Last night I didn't exactly welcome the new year in. As I have for many years, I stayed home and treated it as an ordinary night, so by midnight I was sound asleep. But staying home on New Year's Eve, plus having to write a self evaluation for my boss, are both good occasions to reflect on the year past. I think one of the big lessons I learned is that in my office I am the boss, and I need to be less conciliatory and more of a decision maker. Recently, when I was faced with a difficult decision, Melinda said to me, "Make it a business decision." And although it may be late in the game, I'm learning to do that. For most of the year, my resolution to succeed at writing mysteries was strong, but it sort of went by the wayside the last couple of months. Certainly I have learned a whole lot, some of it most disconcerting, about the mystery publishing world--so different from the academic atmosphere in which I spend my days. In 2008 I shared some wonderful times with family and friends, even if my trip to Scotland didn't happen. And turning 70 was a major milestone for me--good because I feel I don't look or act seventy (okay, if my kids are reading this there are some major exceptions) but still I am aware that 70 puts you clearly into the senior citizen category. It's hard for me to believe that I am 70 and have a son who will be 40 this year. Good heavens! Where did those years go?

2008 was of course an unsettling year for people everywhere--wars, high gas prices, then falling gas prices with a failing economy, bizarre weather, you name it. But like most of the country, I look to 2009 with optimism. Poor President-elect Obama--I think we all expect him to work magic that cannot be worked. But I do believe he'll set us on the right path, and I hope Americans will realize that our various crises cannot be solved in an instant. What do I want for myself? More good time with family and friends (the family is already talking about a ski trip next Christmas). Success for TCU Press and opportunities to take advantage of challenges we're now missing because we're overworked. And, yes, I want to see my mystery accepted and published. And, a biggie for me, I want to lose 20 lbs. If Lisa could do it, so can I. I don't feel fat but the numbers on the scale horrify me. Having been so skinny for much of my early life ("Judy, dear, can you eat a little more"), I find it hard to see myself as overweight--but I am. So like every new year, 2009 brings challenges, hopes, wishes, and maybe something unexpected and wonderful.

I wish that for all of you.