Hello! I’m thrilled to be back at the Sisterhood of the Jaunty Quills, and on my very first release day, no less! SWEET ENEMY, my debut Regency romance with a touch of mystery, is officially on shelves today!

When I visited last time, I talked a little about SWEET ENEMY and how I came to write it. (If you missed that visit and want to know what I said, you can find it here.) I know that I should probably be promoting the book today, too, but as I sat down to decide what I wanted to write about on my release day, my story wasn’t what was on my heart. Instead, I thought I’d talk about what got me to this place.

It all started with an armadillo…

Last time I visited, I mentioned I might bring Armando, my cravat wearing armadillo, to meet Jaunty! Well, as promised, here he is (standing so suavely next to Jane Austen, of course!)

Isn’t he cute? And oh, so dashing! Now, let me tell you the story of Armando and what he has to do with how I became a romance author.

I’ve always been an avid reader, and it wasn’t until my early 30’s when I decided I wanted to try my hand at writing. When I did, I set upon the task with fierce determination, and like any good scientist—with research. First I had to decide what I wanted to write. I flirted with mystery/suspense (a genre I love to read), but realized I just didn’t want to write something so dark. Literary fiction? While part of me loved to read it, the endings so often left me frustrated or sad. So I decided I should write historical romance—my first love after Nancy Drew, and my rekindled love after a foray into horror and crime novels for a few years (blast that Stephen King for being such a good writer and leading me astray!). With my decision made, I got to work.

First, I dissected six of my favorite historical romance novels to see what made them work (yes, Robyn, I promise one day to do a post on that!). Then, I went the library and checked out “The Idiot’s Guide to Writing Romance”. Oh yes, I did. I don’t remember anything about that book now, except that it was the very first time I’d heard of Romance Writers of America®. A professional organization of romance writers? Who knew? The book urged me to look into them, and I quickly joined my local chapter. Then I learned of a national convention that was coming up that summer with Lisa Kleypas as the keynote speaker (LISA KLEYPAS, OMG!), and I decided I really must go, to see if writing historical romance as a career would really be for me. I found some ladies to room with and off to Dallas I went.

What an eye opening experience. 2500 romance authors, writers, and industry professionals, all gathered in one place to bond, confer, network and celebrate romance. It was amazing. It was overwhelming. It was inspiring.

I’ll never forget Lisa Kleypas’ speech. I was already in awe of her, as a fan. Her writing is truly sublime…interesting, engaging, highly emotional…just beautiful. I also knew she was smart and savvy, a graduate of Wellesley College. Her career was flourishing. She was exactly what I wanted to be as an author and I was really interested in what she would say about it.

And what she said was this: to make it in this business, an author has to be an armadillo. I’m paraphrasing here, and do keep in mind this was 5 years and 2 kids ago, but she said basically that armadillos are tough. The only way you can kill them is to run them over with a car. Everything else bounces off their impenetrable shell, making them resilient little creatures. And authors need to be, too. Like when rejection letters arrive in the mail, or when your book gets a bad cover and there’s nothing you can do about it, or when your editor quits mid-book, or when you get a negative review, or when you’re interviewed on a radio station and the man says something like, “Lisa, you’re obviously an intelligent, talented woman. When are you going to start writing real novels?” You just have to yell “Armadillo!” and keep shuffling along.

That part of her speech was very funny and she makes a great point. Having only been in the business a short time, I’ve met a few obstacles that I had to let bounce off of my shell. However, the part that really moved me was a story she told about losing her home. Apparently there was a devastating flash flood that came out of nowhere and wiped out many homes in her area, including hers and her parents’ homes. They lost everything, including their 14 year old cat…very sad. They were staying at a cramped hotel and Lisa and her mom made a trip to Walmart to get essentials for the family. Since they were in such tight quarters, they promised only to get what was absolutely necessary before splitting up to cover their list. When they met back at the check-out, besides their essentials, each of them had a romance novel in their hands, too. And that’s when she realized that writing romance was truly important. When she and her mother were faced with such a difficult time, they both turned to romance for comfort and escape. They needed to be swept up into that author’s world for a time. It would make them feel better.

And that’s when I realized that writing romance was what I wanted to do. I’d been struggling a bit, you see. I’d just finished 5 years of running a prison ministry inside USP Leavenworth, and I was wondering if I was turning my back on something very important to write fiction simply to entertain. Would I really be using my talents and my time to do any good in the world? To help anyone? Was I being selfish by wanting to write?

Lisa’s speech made me think about times in my life when I turned to a romance novel to get through a difficult situation. Yes, I read mostly for pleasure, but there have certainly been times in my life when I NEEDED to read, NEEDED to escape. And that’s when I realized that pursuing a career as a writer WAS important. I COULD help people, though I’d probably never see them face-to-face. Romance is a genre that celebrates love, growth, positive emotions and happy endings, and putting more of that into a world where endings are not always so happy, putting more of that hope out there, IS important work.

Now, back to Armando. Later that year, one of the ladies who’d roomed with me at that conference gave Armando to me as a gift. She bought a beanie-baby armadillo and actually went and found that fancy doll vest and made a cravat for him, complete with a “diamond” stick pin! (Fran Abram, YOU ROCK!). Armando sits on a shelf in my office, and while yes, he reminds me that I have to be tenacious and thick-skinned in this business, what he REALLY reminds me is that my work matters. Because one day my stories will be there for someone who needs them, if only for a few hours of escape.

Has there ever been a time that a good book was just what you needed? I’d love to hear what reading romance means to you.

One lucky commenter will win a signed copy of SWEET ENEMY, as well as your choice of DREAMING OF YOU or DEVIL IN WINTER, my two favorite Lisa Kleypas novels.

Sweet Enemy…
A Veiled Seduction Novel ~ Book One
“Historical intrigue and heart-pounding passion make Sweet Enemy a great read. Romance fans will love it.” ~#1NYT Bestselling Author JULIE GARWOOD

Geoffrey Wentworth, a war hero and rising political star, never wanted to be the Earl, but when his brother dies, he knows his duty—take up the responsibility for his family’s estates. His mother’s definition of duty differs from his, however, and can be summed up in one word—heirs. When Geoffrey rushes home to answer her urgent summons, he finds himself host to a house full of women, all vying to become the next Countess of Stratford. But his love is Parliament, where he wields his influence and reputation to better the lives of ex-soldiers, until a tempting houseguest and a secret from his past threaten his freedom…and his heart.

Liliana Claremont, a brilliant chemist, doesn’t want to be any man’s wife, much less a countess. If she had tuppence for every time she’d been told her place was filling the nursery, not experimenting in the laboratory, she could buy the Tower Bridge. However, when she receives a coveted invitation to the Earl’s house party, she trades in her beakers for ball gowns and gladly takes on the guise of husband hunter—for the chance to uncover what the Earl had to do with the murder of her father.

Liliana believes the best way to get the answers she needs is to keep her enemy close, though romance is not part of her formula. But it only takes one kiss to start a reaction she can’t control…

Heather Snow is a historical romance author with a degree in Chemistry who discovered she much preferred creating chemistry on the page, rather than in the lab. She is forever trying to wrangle her left and right brain to work together (some days with more success than others!), but if her two sides had to duke it out, left would win every time—which can be a creative challenge. Luckily, she loves challenges…she just goes about solving them analytically.

Heather lives in the Midwest with her husband, two rambunctious boys and one very put upon cat. She sincerely hopes you find her stories have just the right chemistry.

Please visit her at www.HeatherSnowBooks.com, on Facebook www.facebook.com/authorheathersnow or on Twitter

Jacquie D’Allasandro tells me every time she sees me that I have heroine hair. This is a great compliment, but it’s time that the truth came out. I have naturally curly hair. Okay…I have mostly naturally curly hair, with some of it naturally, let’s say frizzy. That might be a bit of a stretch as well. Let’s try this. Some of my hair is naturally curly – I was actually born with curls – but some of it is wavy, some is frizzy and some just won’t cooperate at all.

So here’s my big confession. I get a perm once a year to even things out. There I’ve said it. I’ve come clean. I don’t really have heroine hair. It’s not pure and natural and glorious. It’s manufactured, assisted, and chemically enhanced. I have to use a $100 straightening iron to pull all these corkscrews out and then it lays there, flat, lifeless and boring. Which is why I continue to get those annual “treatments” because my hair just works better all wound up. And why I gave said flat iron to my sister earlier this year cause there’s just no point.

I’ve come to the conclusion that most women don’t love their hair. Right now my oldest daughter loves her super curly hair, but I know a day will come when she’ll loathe it and wish she had her little sister’s straight hair. Women just can’t make peace with their hair, though we strive to on a regular basis. Don’t we all obsess about it? The color, the texture, the cut, the everything. It’s enough to drive you nuts. This might explain why most romance heroines come with perfect hair. That as much as the hero is part of our fantasy. ☺

And you know for the most part all this fretting we do is for all the other women in the world because most men don’t even notice. The Professor has voiced that he prefers my hair curly to the ironed straight look, but says the straight is a nice change when I do it. Diplomatic, that man.

So how about you, do you have any hair secrets? Do you get yours colored or curled or chemically enchanted in any way? Come on, spill the beans and tell me your beauty secrets?

Before Christmas I guest blogged at Ramblings From This Chick and shared an excerpt of my upcoming book. A few years ago, my Ladies Amateur Sleuth Society series came to an abrupt end leaving one lady without her happy ending. I still get reader mail asking about poor Charlotte and so in 2012 the fourth and final installment of the series will finally be available (summer). A Marriage Most Convenient tells the story of Charlotte Reed who will finally unmask the Jack of Hearts. Hope you enjoy it!

There are four ladies in London who have a most unladylike hobby: solving mysteries. No conundrum is too great for these young women. Until they stumble across the Jack of Hearts, a scandalous rogue who steals jewels from the rich and may well steal the heart of one of their own.

A MARRIAGE MOST CONVENIENT

London, 1893

It was beginning to bore him. It being stealing. Pilfering, burglary, thievery, as it were. Initially, he’d had a task at hand. Stealing something quite specific. But the thrill of the charade had been enthralling, a challenge, and a rather daring one at that.

But now he had become a novelty. The Jack of Hearts.

If the Jack of Hearts made an appearance at your ball or soiree, then it was instantly considered a smashing success. He’d been intent on hanging up his mask, even though he’d failed to acquire all of the family heirlooms his mother had sold. The Viscountess who’d purchased one of the pieces—a brooch—rarely appeared in public. When he’d heard she would be at tonight’s soirée, he’d known the Jack of Hearts would make one final appearance. The brooch was just too tempting. And now here he was — his bag full of useless bobbles, half of them not even authentic stones — crouched in the shadows outside of Mayfair Hall. Jack sighed and turned to go.

“I said, no thank you, Winthrop,” a familiar female voice said firmly. “I do not take kindly to unwanted advances.”

Jack stopped and listened intently to the exchange on the balcony above him. He peered between the bushes and watched Winthrop Cowell grip Charlotte Reed’s arm.

“Don’t be so demure, Miss Reed, I merely wanted a kiss,” the man’s words were badly slurred. Clearly he was well into his cups. “Now, hold still.”

Jack stepped forward, primed to make a move, to stop the man from taking advantage of Charlotte, but before he could step out of the shadows, she shoved against Winthrop’s bulky chest knocking the man off balance. He stumbled backwards and knocked over a potted topiary, the ceramic base shattered against the stone balcony.

“Go back inside before I find your intended and tell her of your outrageous behavior,” Charlotte said, her voice sharp with authority. “I have absolutely no desire to kiss you tonight or any other night.”

Winthrop turned and skulked back into the ballroom, leaving her alone in the darkness.

Jack took a moment to watch her. He, the real him, had known Charlotte Reed for years. He’d watched her grow into the stunning beauty she was today. The legendary Charlotte Reed who’d turned down more proposals than any woman ought to receive let alone reject. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wanted her too once upon a time until he’d seen Charlotte’s true character, seen her vanity. And he knew that Charlotte Reed was not interested in him, at least not the real him. Jack waited a moment longer to ensure Winthrop didn’t return before turning to leave.

“Who’s there?” Charlotte called out. She took the steps from the balcony to the yard and peered into the darkness. Her dark brown hair was piled atop her head coupled with the low cut neckline of her gown and it made her neck seem impossibly, seductively long. The graceful curve called to him, immobilizing him. He loathed his own weakness and that he couldn’t make himself walk away.

“How did you know I was here?” Jack asked, but he kept himself hidden in the shrubbery.

“I heard you rustling in the bushes. What are you doing out there?” Her eyes squinted, still trying to make out who stood in the shadows. Then she smiled broadly. “Are you alone out there or am I interrupting you tryst?” Curiosity shimmered in her eyes. She took the stairs down from the balcony and looked out into the yard, directly at the clump of shrubs that shrouded him.

He cleared his throat. “I am alone and I was planning to come to your rescue, to save you from your unwanted suitor, but you managed matters on your own quite nicely,” he said, intentionally deepening his voice. It was on his tongue to remind her she should not have put herself in such a position, that she should be more careful with her safety. But tonight he was Jack and Jack cared for no one’s safety, not even his own.

Charlotte took several steps towards him, twigs cracked beneath her slippers as she approached him. He stepped around a bush, revealing himself as he knew he’d never leave without her seeing him.

Surprise etched her features as a smile slid into place. He had heard rumor that she, in particular, fancied the Jack of Hearts. Many women in London did. Many of the fashionable young ladies did, those with nothing in their heads but gossip and scandal. “Have a lovely evening, Miss Reed,” Jack said as he turned to go.

“Wait,” she said. “Don’t go yet.” She shook her head. “How do you know my name?”

The tempo of his heart picked up. He was risking much by standing here, holding a bag full of stolen jewels and wearing a mask. Attracting the attention of a girl like Charlotte was one thing, but if anyone else stumbled out onto the terrace and discovered them, he’d be in serious trouble. Jack would be quickly apprehended and unmasked. The scandal that ensued would ruin his life and likely Charlotte’s as well. He should leave, yet he made no move to walk away.

“I won’t call for help,” she said. “I merely want to converse. For a moment.”

He turned back to face her. Her rich blue dress molded tightly to her full breasts, leaving little to his imagination. The color of the fabric was dark enough to enhance the alabaster of her skin. Even though he doubted the dress was new, the Reeds did not have deep pockets, she had taken great care with her appearance. She was a vision. Quite easily the loveliest woman in all of London.

Her brilliant smile gave his breath pause and made his hands twitch.

He concentrated on his tone as he spoke, “A lady, such as yourself, shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“Well, you won’t harm me,” she reached out as if to touch him, then thought better of it and brought her hand back to her side. So she did have some sense. “Will you, Jack?”

The sound of the name, his name on her lips sent a mixture of pride and anger coursing through him. He reached up to ensure his mask was firmly in place. She was flirting with him. He could see it in her face, and the way her mouth was set, the subtle batting of her lashes. So the rumors were true, Charlotte fancied him.

Well, not him, per se, but the him she believed him to be. He winced. For a moment he considered reaching up and ripped the mask from his face, but he kept his hands still. He had managed to keep his identity a secret for this long, it wouldn’t kill him to do it one more night. Revealing himself to Charlotte wouldn’t change anything. It certainly wouldn’t make her want him, the real him.

“You could escort me to the gardens,” she suggested. “Like any gentleman could with a lady.”

Well, if he had to play the part, he would do it right. “What makes you think I am a gentleman?” he took a step towards her.

Her head tilted down a little as if she were trying to see him more closely. “You don’t have a reputation for ravishing, only theft.”

“Are the two so different, then?” It was easy now. This role of Jack. He was in his skin, feeling every bit the rogue. And he knew he was playing a dangerous game, but no matter the warnings in his head, he couldn’t make himself turn from her.

“Touché.” Her voice was sultry and if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume she was far more worldly then he knew her to be.

“Tell me, Miss Reed, are you always so brazen with men?” Perhaps if he called her on her behavior, she’d cease her recklessness. What if she’d fancied some other rogue, a true cad would take advantage of her?
She shook her head, her blue eyes never leaving his face. He would have sworn she could see right through that mask. But if that were true, she would no longer be standing in front of him. If she could see him, the real him, she would have walked away moments ago, bored with their exchange.

“Only those I find intriguing,” she said. Her lips curved in a slight smile revealing the dimple in her left cheek.
It seemed a bit amusing, if not ironic, that the lovely Charlotte Reed was enamored with the Jack of Hearts. The untouchable, beauty who had turned down countless proposals. The woman he himself had once fancied. “Intriguing,” he repeated.

She took several steps towards him. “Utterly captivating.”

Her flirtations were dangerous and with another other man she would have been in serious danger of losing her virtue. She needed to be warned, but he knew words would not send the message. Without thought to the repercussions, Jack placed one hand on her elbow and pulled her to him.

“Captivated or not, you should be more careful where danger lurks.” And with that he leaned down and planted a firm kiss on her lips.

He was careful not to allow himself to indulge his own desires, just a quick kiss meant to warn her. A kiss intended to let her know how dangerous her behavior was, flirting with a rogue. But her lips were warm and pliant so maintaining control was a test of wills. And soon his only thought was his desire to coax her mouth open and explore precisely how far this fancy of hers went.

She was most assuredly a willing partner, being kissed in the moonlight by a masked stranger. Her willingness was intoxicating and he knew he would take more than he ought if he did not walk away from her now. In the next moment he forced himself to break away from the kiss, then he quickly turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Once seated inside the confines of his carriage, he pulled off his mask and tossed it to the other side. He swore loudly. He’d let his guard down with her and with it, his ability to make intelligent decisions. He hadn’t maintained his secret identity this long by being foolish and reckless. Yes, it had taken considerable nerve and risk, but equal to that was the extensive planning. And tonight he’d forgotten all of that. He’d told himself he was teaching her a lesson, but he knew that wasn’t completely true.

It was time. Time to make Jack disappear. Time to just be himself.

We’ve talked a lot about tradition on here lately…ornaments and decorations and how we generally celebrate this holiday season. But I came across several strange bits of trivia surrounding the yuletime and thought it would be fun to pass them to you.

*Mistletoe, though tied to a romantic tradition, is actually a parasite. The kissing bit dates all the way back to 16th century England.

*The first time electric Christmas lights were used was 1854.

*The song “Jingle Bells” was originally written for Thanksgiving.

*If you received every gift from the song “12 Days of Christmas” you’d receive 364 items. That’s a lot of fowl.

*It wasn’t until 1870 that Christmas became an official holiday in the United States.

*Here in central Texas (perhaps the whole state?) tamales are a popular Christmas day dish.

*The candy cane was invented in 1670 by a choirmaster to keep children quiet during the church service.

*The first department store Santa appeared in 1841 in Philadelphia, but it took another 49 years before another store (this time in Boston) copied the idea.

*Kentucky Fried Chicken is the place to go on Christmas day in Japan.

*The pickle ornament…well, according to legend the Germans hung a glass pickle ornament on the tree and the first child to find it got a special present. My mother has done this for years. But evidently few Germans know of this supposed tradition.

*There are those who say that Christmas caroling was started by drunken men who would go door-to-door signing drinking songs for handouts.

*The story behind Christmas stockings is about three sisters who had no dowries to allow them to marry and St. Nicholas found their stockings drying by the fire and put a bag of coin in each one to provide their dowry. Other legends have the women as being prostitutes.

I found these tidbits of interest and hope you do as well. May your presents be purchased and wrapped under your trees and all your Christmas goodies be calorie free. Ho, ho, ho!

There’s lots of shopping going on right now. I, like Jan, lost my ever-loving mind and did Black Friday shopping this year (NEVER AGAIN!!!). My crazy sister (who does it every year and loves it!) talked me in to it and while I enjoyed the camaraderie and I did get some good deals, I honestly don’t think the savings were worth the effort. But Black Friday is not really what I want to talk about today…

I want to talk about the art of gift-giving, well and receiving. I consider myself to be a thoughtful gift-giver, though there are always a few people on my list that make that nearly impossible. But I learned early, probably because my mom has made gift-giving an art form, that the most important thing to do when giving someone a present was to consider that person’s likes and to be creative. Now as I said there are those that make that impossible. There were several Christmases where my brother insisted on only receiving gift cards. You know the thing about gift cards is, they’re great to receive, I love receiving them, but I hate to give them. They’re boring and seem so thoughtless.

But I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, for some odd reason. I tend to like to, as we call it in my family, “go rogue” on gifts. Try to come up with something that isn’t on someone’s list, something they perhaps didn’t know they wanted or just forgot they’d seen and liked. It’s kind of a sickness, you know that moment where someone is opening your gift and you just know what you’ve given them is going to be their favorite. You get bonus points if you make them cry. Ask Emily, she’s been victim to my evil plans.

Is that really the best way to do things though? Yes, it’s always nice to be thoughtful and creative. But isn’t it also nice to give someone something they’ve asked for? We do this for our children, it makes sense to do the same for the rest of our loved ones. I’ve acknowledged that feeding my own reaction should not be my primary motivation in selecting a gift. But hey, making someone happy, that’s not an all-bad goal, right?

So how about you? What kind of a gift giver are you? Go by the list or are you a while gun? What about receiving? Do you prefer to get something you didn’t know you wanted, but love nonetheless or would you prefer something you’ve asked for?

Okay so I’m piggybacking on Kathy’s blog yesterday, but instead of Thanksgiving, I want to discuss Christmas. As I’ve blogged on here many times, I love Christmas and love my family’s many traditions. But now that the Professor and I have our own family, we want to start some traditions in our house. Since we’ve been married, we’ve travelled every year to either his family’s house or mine and we’ve just been doing things their way. But this year, we start our own.

Now growing up things shifted some in my family, but mostly due to grandparents passing and then siblings having their own families and things like that. But for the most part we had things we did every year. My parents gave all us kids an ornament every year so that when we were adults, we’d have a collection to start with. I love this idea and plan to use it myself. I love the ornaments I put on my tree that are from my childhood. I remember the ones my grandmother gave me and the ones I got when I was in my unicorn phase or my cow phase (don’t ask). There are memories attached to nearly every ornament and putting my tree up every year is a treasured event – I want that for my girls too.

The other thing my family did that I liked was that stockings were a big deal at our house. No nuts and socks in ours, no, we had just presents and clever little items that added to the magic of Christmas morning. I’m still amazed at my mom’s creativity when it comes to gifts for others. The other thing to note about our stockings was that my mom made them, all of them. When I was a little girl, I had one that I think she embroidered. Then at some point she made us all velvet ones, red for girls, green for boys, and the top of the stocking has our names and a little scene that she cross-stitched. They’re all personal and beautiful and she has new ones to make this year!

There were plenty of other things that my family did that I love – the candlelit service at our church, my dad reading the Christmas story as well as the Cajun Night Before Christmas, my mom’s old Christmas albums (that’s right, kids, honest to goodness albums!) I have such lovely memories from the holidays growing up. So now that I’m the mom, what do I do? Which traditions do I pick? I know I can’t do everything? I know some years will be different. But what memories do I want my girls to have when they’re adults and trying to decide what to pass on to their own families?

How about you? What are your favorite family traditions at Christmastime? Which ones did you pass on to your own kids? Or did you adopt ones of your own? 

Oh and I actually got sick (twice!) after my last blog where I did a giveaway so I apologize for how late this is, but the following 5 people won a digital copy of one of my books, please email me. Melanie F., Astrid, Jane, Kristen and Rebe.

We don’t always do personal posts here on the Jaunty Quills, but y’all are family and many of you have been following our blog here for years and know all about mine and The Professor’s trials to start our family. Several months ago I told y’all about the two sisters we took in as foster children and I’m so happy to say that as of October 24th we are a forever family. The four of us (as well as some family, attorneys and case workers) stood in court and made a pledge, not unlike that of a civil wedding ceremony. It was profound and short and wonderful. And now I’m so relieved and happy I don’t know what to do with myself.

Our adoption journey began several years ago, while we were still living in TN. There I looked into the adoption from the foster care system, but the TN program is one that didn’t work well for us. They had too many constraints that made us uncomfortable. We tried private infant adoption, but ultimately both birth moms we were matched with decided to keep their babies. It was a long and incredibly difficult road, but as I stood in that court room, I was thankful…thankful for the roads not taken.

This was a journey I knew I was destined for. When I was a teenager, I watched a documentary on Romanian orphanages that just broke my heart, all of those babies that no one held. It was difficult to watch. Then I worked, for a summer, at a children’s shelter where kids that had been removed from abusive homes went before they were placed in foster homes. I realized two things that summer, (1) I could not work with those kids in a full-time job b/c I couldn’t leave it at work (2) I would someday take at least one of those kids into my home. So this is a dream a long time in the making.

I wish I could share pictures of my beautiful girls with all of you, but for their protection (since we live relatively close to their birth families) I cannot. Allow me to assure you they are absolutely beautiful. But I can share this photo of the back of my car, consider it our family portrait.

To celebrate all my joy and happiness I want to give away 5 digital copies of any of my books. Winners choice and either for the Nook or Kindle. Just comment and tell me what you love about your own family and especially let me know if adoption has touched your life in any way.

Okay, yes, I’m a big dork, but The Professor and I always celebrate our engage-aversary, the day when he proposed. I’ve blogged about my fantastic proposal before, but it’s been a while and it’s one of my favorite stories so I’m sharing it again.

It was October 30th, 2004 and I happen to believe that I received the most romantic proposal ever, but I’m willing to open myself up to be proven wrong.

So here are my details…

He came and picked me up on a Saturday afternoon and I admit he was later than he said he was going to be. He’d been hinting at things all week and had been asking a lot of random questions, and we had already been ring shopping a few weeks before, so I suspected something was going on. Frankly, he’s not so good with secrets, but his obvious hints are charming. I thought we were going to this restaurant in a nearby town and then hitting the zoo in San Antonio (because of some random question he’d asked me about polar bears). I got into the car and as if by magic our song started to play. He was excited and energetic and I was a basketcase.

Not only that, but the plan I thought he had was way wrong. We started up a road that leads straight into the heart of the Texas Hill Country to a picnic site overlooking what is known as the Devil’s Backbone. It was where I’d taken him on a picnic shortly after we started dating. And a place I’d loved as a child; a special place. Because off in the distance upon one of the hills stood a lone tree, standing proudly. Ever since I was a little girl, when my family would drive past that site, I would always say, “That’s my tree.”

So he had me go sit at the table while he gathered all the goods. Picnic basket (totally cute – looks like a large version of the one Dorothy carries in Wizard of Oz), linens, cooler, etc. He set everything out, then unloaded the food, all my favorite stuff, crab cakes, pesto, bread, pasta, chocolate (what a man!), chilled white wine. So we ate and talked and the weather was perfect even though we’d been forecasted rain and clouds.

After we ate he went back to the car, and then returned with even more stuff. One of which was one of those house-shaped boxes (you moms probably recognize it) – he’d gone to Build-A-Bear and he’d made me a polar bear (cause I just love polar bears, cute rascals!). The bear was holding this little red heart-shaped pillow that said “I love you”, and then The Professor proceeded to read me a 2-page love letter he’d written about how much he loved me and how much he’d learned about love from me and why he wanted to be with me forever (insert me sobbing at this point). Then he got down on one knee, told me to look in the heart pillow where I found my ring, asked me to be his wife to which I replied, “absolutely!” and he put that pretty sparkler on my hand. *sigh*

Think you can beat that? Even if you can’t all of our proposals are special to us, so spill the beans girls, how’d he ask you? Did your husband go all out and propose to you while at a baseball game? Or did he take you to Tiffany’s in the middle of the night? Whatever it is, I want to hear it.

So I know that our lovely Katherine Garbera has blogged before on her love of fashion, well, I have a bit of the opposite to confess. I am not fashionable. Not really on purpose. I think I have good taste. My house is decorated nicely, I definitely have an opinion about how things should look but I’m never really “in style.” I seem to have a knack for being late to the party, as it were. Some new fashion will come out and I’ll either not like it or feel ambivalent about it and then just when I decide it’s cute and I want it, the stores are done. This happens to me a lot with shoes, in particular. Frankly, it’s very annoying.

Recently Target had a very strange commercial, one that I simply didn’t get. Then whenever this magical stuff went on sale people went nuts and it sold out and then it was all over ebay. I didn’t understand. I saw some of it, still in stores, heavily patterned clothes and kitchen stuff and well, it’s not my thing. So I asked a worker at Target what the big deal was and he explained that this designer is big stuff and normally her products are very expensive. Okay, so that makes more sense. Making a big designers stuff more accessible to the masses, I get it. I still don’t care for it and I doubt that will change, but hey, I’ve been wrong about that. So if a year from now I decide I need to redecorate my house with all that patterned pieces, then all of you who bought it when it was hot can re-sell it to me.

When it comes to clothes though I’m just not that hip. I often don’t understand trends. Like skinny jeans, let’s talk about this. Who thought this was a good idea for anyone but 14 year old girls? I’ve seen far too many guys/men wearing them and that’s just not attractive. At all. They’re not flattering. They’re made for the ultra thin and all they do is highlight how much these poor people need to eat some twinkies. Yet they’re made for women my size. Come on people, full-figured women do not need thin legged pants – that’s not flattering. We need the flare.

I could write an entire blog on full-figured fashion, but today I really am trying to talk about how unfashionable I am. I’m mostly a blue jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, I like tennis shoes and flip-flops. When I go to writing functions like conferences, then I pull out my nice clothes, it’s all basically the same year after year, black pants with black jackets and different colored tops. And I often still wear my flip-flops because well, they’re nice and I don’t do heels. (there’a bother fashion thing I don’t get on any level)

So what about y’all? Are you hip and in fashion, with your clothes or your decorating taste? Or do you just do your own thing and hope no one will notice?

Okay so this probably isn’t going to be so much of a how-to-blog as just a how-I-do-it-blog. Not because you asked, but because this is an on-going process in my life and on my mind a lot. Especially lately since we’ve had to make room for the girls. I’m of the opinion that organization is not a one size fits all sort of thing. I think you have to find your style and that can often take a lot of trial and error. I know, for instance, that my mother and I organize very differently this is most noticeable when we’re cleaning or unpacking after a move. She has an out of sight, out of mind kind of philosophy and mine is more of the a place for everything and everything in its place.

Just that phrase gives me a semblance of peace. If everything has a place, then everything can be put away. This is both a blessing and a curse for me. Because (and I know you can see where this is going…) if I don’t have a place for something I will just leave it out until I know where to put it. This can cause significant problems if finding that place takes me any length of time.

Which brings me to my organization style. I love containers and I’m rather partial to baskets. I think I have baskets in every room in my house. They’re great for corralling everything from toys to toilet paper. They make everything neat and tidy and keep me from getting a little nutty. I’m one of those who don’t like to see a lot of clutter, but at the same time if I just hide everything behind cabinets or closets I can’t ever find anything. So I compartmentalize everything in containers. I have them in my pantry, cabinets, closets, bathrooms, bedrooms and everything in between.

I even use them, so to speak, on my computer, in the form of folders. I organize my email (which is also color-coded) my documents and my photos. Everything is labeled and categorized. I might have to click through three levels to get to what I want, but I know right where it is. Keeps me from getting crazy which is precisely what will happen if my inbox is more than one scroll long.

So how about y’all? Are you organized? Do you have a specific style for how you organize things? Is your computer organized too? What about your car?