I’m in Cancun, on vacation. I’ll write more next week, I promise.

 For now, why don’t you tell me where you’d like to go? What’s your dream vacation? Talk to me in comments and I’ll mail someone thing cool next week. Happy New Year!

As the year winds down, I can’t help but think that I’ve been beyond blessed in ‘07. I signed with a wonderful agent, made some fabulous new friends, and ‘08 promises all sorts of excitement. I hope you met all your goals for the year, and are excited about the new one to come.

I don’t have a lot to say at the moment, and this is my “off” time, where I don’t talk about myself or put myself in the spotlight more than I must. Everybody needs time to recharge — well, this is mine. So I won’t bore you with talk about what I ate for dinner today, or what I did with my family.

But this is what I ask of you: take some time to think about what you want most out of life. Do you have it? Then say thank you in whatever way is most meaningful to you. And if you don’t, how can you go about getting what you want? Maybe you need to figure out what that is, first. If you need advice, need to vent, or need a friendly, impartial ear here at the holidays, I’m listening. If not, that’s cool too.

Finally, I can’t wrap this up without announcing my big winner. I can’t tell you how touched and flattered I was by the response y’all gave to my contest. 150 comments? Holy crap! I think that might be a record. In the end, it was a close race, but LAURA J. wanted it most. She needs to email me with her address. I’ll head over to the post office later today and mail out prizes.

I wish you all the brightest season, the best of everything, and a rip-roaring New Year. I’ll see you, dear readers, in ‘08.

Give it away, give it away, give it away now.
Give it away, give it away, give it away now.
Give it away, give it away, give it away now.
I can’t tell if I’m a king pin or a pauper.

Can you tell me what song this comes from? You can? Then what’re you waiting for?! Because the first person who names the title and band in comments wins a special secret prize as part of my kick-ass new contest.

Ah, I see your ears have perked up. Did I say… contest? Well, of course I did.

I happen to have in my hot little hands, thanks to my wondrous editor Anne Sowards, a galley for GRIMSPACE. This little beauty arrived today via FedEx, and I cried tears of joy. (No, really, I did. Ask Lauren). So of course, in my delirious excitement, I must mail it to someone else post haste. Tis this season, right?

I’m going to make this one simple because I can’t be arsed to think up something more involved. Would you like this signed ARC? Then show me the love. No, better yet — SHOW ME THE MONEY. No pansy drawings this time — the person who comments most on this post gets the ARC. I’ll mail it right to your house, months before you could buy in stores, along with a limited edition postcard of the cover art and a special Jax magnet. Is that avarice I see gleaming in your eyes?

If it is, if you want the fierce future-love explosion of goodness otherwise known as GRIMSPACE, then your topic is music — discuss your favorite songs, bands, what you’re listening to now, what artists you miss, where are they now questions, whatever. YouTube links to songs you like are permitted, but otherwise your comment should have content (no one word posts!) and/or respond to things already being discussed.

My next entry goes up the day after Christmas, which is when I’ll announce the winner. So what are you waiting for?! On your marks, set, go!

*Sexalicious bookmark / banner design by Bettie Sharpe

The kids woke up me this morning, fighting outside my bedroom door. It was earlier than I prefer on a Sunday morning, so I wasn’t the sweet June Cleaver type of mom right then. Not that I ever am.

I didn’t say, “What do you need, darlings?” I growled, grumbled something that I’m sure was a threat, such as, “Go away, or I’ll shave you bald and give you both a sheep dip,” and then finished with, “Go eat a donut or something. Come back later.”

To nobody’s surprise, except perhaps the Siamese cat (who bears a perpetually surprised expression due to a quirk in his physiognomy), the children did not go away. They instead reduced the argument to stage whispers, which came to me in fits and starts. When I heard “…broke it…” and “…that poor dog…” I had no choice but to come out of my cave. Like any mother bear, I emerged full of righteous indignation. What the hell could they have possibly done, so early in the morning, that required my intervention?!

Damn. Why did I reproduce? And then I remembered, it was never really a plan, just something that sort of happened as an adjunct to something else (which is the best birth control the world).

I got downstairs to find the kitchen in shambles, trash lying about, dirty dishes on the table, and… they’d already eaten all the donuts. Dammit, I wanted one of those! I then discovered that the crisis was a broken water dish. That’s all. And my two children were unable to locate a suitable bowl in the cupboard on their own. Now mind you, the broken dish? Not dangerous. Just a cracked plastic container. They were reduced to helpless bickering when it came down to selecting a bowl that would tide the dog over until we got up an hour or so later.

I’ll skip all the ranting, but I did, in fact, go postal for a good ten minutes. My children can be adorable, but they’re not so much with the problem-solving. I came to myself ranting about being stranded in Austria with an ounce of weed and no passport, and then what’re they gonna do? Neither one of them had an answer.

Since I was up, I decided to finish the laundry, which only worsened my mood. I hate laundry. I hate lugging it, I hate washing it, I hate handling wet clothes. I merely dislike folding it, because at least it’s warm, soft, and good-smelling, which it assuredly isn’t before. I have my doubts that passion can thrive in any setting where you’re forced to deal with your man’s cooty-full drawers.

That took until nearly lunchtime, so I had to chivvy my brood into bathing and getting dressed. I needed to do some grocery shopping, and I thought we’d get lunch out. Well, traffic was hellacious because it’s almost time for Posada and people will be having parties every night. Service was slow at the restaurant, but we eventually got our meals, and moved on to phase two, which was shopping.

Shopping with my whole family is like something out of a Chevy Chase movie. My husband doesn’t understand that I have a system. I’ve learned the layout of the store, and I can buzz through at a dead run, grabbing this or that, and be out in twenty minutes, if I’m left to do my job. Today, it was stuff like, “Honey, where’s the cat litter? What brand do we buy…?”

Well, for the love of God, I grab it on the way out because it’s near the checkout lines. Please don’t mess with my system! It took a good fifteen minutes extra because of the family help. My son wanted to eat every sample we passed, despite the fact that we’d just eaten lunch. And the crowds were just insane. If I’d spent any longer in the store I would’ve started running people down with my buggy.

By this time I had a pounding headache. Luckily, I keep Advil in my purse, so I downed some on the way home and tried to pretend it was later than three p.m. We put away the food, and by four, I had made a run for the bedroom, which I should’ve locked. Because my husband kept coming in to “check on me” and kiss me awake, which is code for, “Honey, I love you. Please get up and deal with the children. I don’t want to be alone with them anymore. The boy has a weird look in his eye and the girl won’t stop complaining. They want me to play board games, sweetie. BOARD GAMES. For the love of God, HELP ME.”

His distress notwithstanding, I managed to milk that nap for almost three hours. I made him feed them too. Mwahahaha! My evil knows no bounds. By the time I came down, the house smelled like burning. Andres had made dinner, you see.

We watched some TV together, and I felt more or less normal again. The urge to kill had faded almost entirely. And then the guys started teasing our daughter about her stench (for those who don’t know, she’s had a cast on her foot for three weeks… she tore some ligaments in her ankle). They drove her into a high frenzy and then capped it by joking that there were probably dead bugs inside there. At that point, her hysteria wasn’t going to end unless we did something drastic.

The cast was due to come off in a couple of days anyway, so what could we do but get the tools and remove it ourselves? It took like two hours of tag-team sawing while the Simpsons played and her brother made dismemberment jokes. Dear readers, the operation was a success and the girl reports her ankle is healed. We told her not to run for another week and take special care with it until she gets used to being cast-less again. She took a normal shower for the first time in weeks and put lotion on. Now everyone is sleeping peacefully, and I’m looking forward to another day like this tomorrow.

No, we’re not the Simpsons. But we could be. So if you ever envy my glamorous writer’s life… you might wanna rethink that. I have a dog who steals my underwear and my shoes, and a cat who cries when I take a bath. I have kids. I have a husband.

Do I need to go on?

So tell me about your latest bad day. How does your family get on your nerves? I know you love them and all, but you can vent. I won’t tell. Do the holidays make it worse?

PS - Jolene needs to email me. She won the Season of Giving contest.

Second verse, same as the first. This didn’t get quite the response I’d hoped, so I can only assume people didn’t see it. So I’ll be re-running this until the contest close next week.
My favorite part of the holidays is that I have an excuse to buy things for people. I’ve always enjoyed giving presents, much more than I enjoy shopping for myself. Apart from handbags, I don’t suffer from acquisitiveness. I rarely see something that I have to have, which makes Christmas shopping a blast.

I love finding the perfect gift for someone. Last Christmas, I bought mi suegra (my mother in law) a blue crystal Italian lamp. When it’s switched on, the light pours through the crystal and creates the most beautiful icy refractions — even the shade is crystal. It’s a lovely piece, and since she adores Tiffany lamps, I knew she would be delighted with it. I found it in a little antique store around the corner from my house.

This year, I’ve already started the season of giving. The policeman who works security on my block, keeping all of us safe through the night, reported a fire in his home. It wasn’t destroyed, but they lost a lot of their personal belongings. On Friday, my daughter and I went through her closet and got together a backpack full of clothing for his daughter, and then found some toys in good condition that she might enjoy. Then on Saturday, we went out and bought a gift card, which is good at a number of stores in the area, so they can shop for themselves and get what they need most.

There are a lot of great charities, but I like practicing philanthropy closer to home too. I like doing things for people myself. And anytime I help someone, my own problems seem to melt away, because I see that they’re just not that significant, compared to challenges that face other folks.

It’s good to step outside yourself this time of year, and not let yourself stress over presents, holiday meals, travel plans, or any other fairly trivial thing you can imagine. I used to stress over presents. What if they don’t like them? What if they think they’re stupid, cheesy, or worthless? Now I don’t care. I take my time and try to make the gifts personal and meaningful. Beyond that, there are no guarantees. And my personal yardstick is a different than it used to be.

This time of year, I ask myself: Do you have a warm house? Food to eat? People who love you? Then you’re doing okay.

My kids are starting to learn the value of giving as well. They teach philanthropy at Greengates School. We participate in all disaster relief efforts, and each year at the holidays, they donate gifts to people who would not have a Christmas otherwise. My daughter really enjoys putting together a gift box, picking out each item with great care and saying, “I would really like this, if I received it.” Then she gives all the things she liked away.

Go to www.familygivingtree.org and read. Up to speed? This organization makes sure that children who otherwise would have no Christmas at all get some presents this year. I always felt terribly sorry for poor kids, given the story of Santa Claus. I mean, they’re told they’ll get presents if they’re good. And if there’s no money to buy them, what can they extrapolate, year after year, except that they’re bad kids. That breaks my heart.

The Family Giving Tree helped over 68,000 kids last year, and this charity passes more than 90% of donations on to the children, which means I can get on board with it. This is going to be a different sort of contest, but if my readers are the people I think they are, then this will be one of the most commented posts of the year. I’m going to pick one lucky winner next Sunday, and I will donate on your behalf, so that seven kids have Christmas presents because of you.

So tell me what you’re doing to make the holidays better for someone else. Tell me how you’re trying to make the world a better place, even in a small, quiet way. How are you paying it forward? Sharing your blessings? Seven needy children will thank you for it.

Adventures in cooking? Bring it on.

Typically I don’t have everything I need in order to make something I really want to try, and I have an almost religious objection to making a special trip to the store. So I start looking for something that’s close, which will substitute and satisfy my “close enough” requirement.

One night, I got to craving chicken marsala. I had the pasta, chicken, and mushrooms. Did I have marsala wine or shallots? Nope. Well, here’s what I did.

2 lbs of chicken breast, cut into pieces or strips
1 pack of fresh mushrooms
1 chicken bullion cube
onion salt
garlic powder
1 c of wine (whatever you have on hand. I used Boone’s tropical fruit wine. if you use a sweet wine, dump in a couple tablespoons of vinegar to balance it out.)
a handful of sun-dried tomatoes
1 T butter
1 small bottle of Perrier

Cook all of the above until it looks / tastes done. Serve on whatever pasta you have in the house. You can switch out wines, pastas, add peppers and/or scallions, but this is a great basic recipe that you can play with. Goes great with salad.

That may look like the weirdest recipe for chicken marsala you’ll ever see, but you’d be surprised at how good it tastes.

Likewise, I made enough chicken rice soup for a sick little boy last weekend out of two skinned, chopped chicken nuggets, a handful of frozen peas and carrots, a half cup of cooked rice, two cups of water, and a chicken bullion cube.

And I did some kitchen jury-rigging tonight too.

We went at a run all day long, as my son had a birthday party to attend down in Santa Fe (that’s on the south side of Mexico City, and we live at the north. Traffic is insane). As we were coming back, my husband got a call that the network was failing at work, and since he’s the boss, he had to go in and make sure it got fixed. So he was gone all afternoon.

Generally, I don’t cook much on weekends, but since he had to work today, I decided it was the least I could do to make him a good dinner, even though he said I could just order pizza. But he hates pizza. So I ambled into the kitchen at 6:47 p.m., took a look at what we had and said:

“Oh crap.”

I didn’t really do much grocery shopping this week. You know how much fun it is, trying to patch a decent meal out of whatever you can find? I’m actually being serious. I love the challenge of this. Anyone can make a delicious meal from a fully stocked pantry. It’s like, ok, I have two cans of tuna, rice, pasta, and green beans. WTF can I make?

I did slightly better than that tonight, however. I found a packet of chicken breasts, a frozen pasta combo thing, and broccoli. I’m not sure what you’d call what I made, because the pasta side dish was actually Mexican. It was pasta poblana with rajas (peppers) and elote (corn). And I added butter, Italian spices, various miscellaneous spices (ie, anything in the cupboard that looked likely) chihuahua cheese, Parmesan cheese, milk, a chicken bullion cube, water, a half packet of colored vegetable rotini I found… and I forget what else. I grilled the chicken and stirred it in. Then I made garlic bread, using butter, garlic powder, and Oaxaca cheese.

The steamed broccoli we ate plain, along with the Mex-Italian chicken pasta and bread. My family loved it. But fuck me if I could make it exactly like that again.

How about you guys? Do you stick precisely to the recipe? Do you make it up as you go along? Or do you order out?

And now, what you’ve all been waiting for:

The big winner this week is Laura K. Email me your address, and I’ll send you Anya’s book!

And because y’all were so talkative last week, I’m drawing a surprise second winner. Wendy, you can choose from Boundless, Your Alibi, or The Average Girl’s Guide to Getting Laid. Email me the title you want, and your choice of format.

Dear Closet,

I’m sorry I keep doing this to you. I know we had that long talk last spring, and there was the avalanche of ought-six, which should have taught me a valuable lesson. Unfortunately, all I took from that deluge of delightful accessories was: Holy crap, there’s the Prada I bought last winter. I never used that!

My dearest shelf space, I think we need to take our relationship to the next level. You’ve made it clear over the years that I’m burdening you with my various compulsions, and I can see that you don’t know how much longer you can bear up. Please don’t give up on me. I have a solution that might work for both of us.

You see, I’m developing a plan. No, it doesn’t involve cutting back, or donating to thrift stores. What kind of woman do you take me for! Don’t answer that. Still, that was a cruel thing to say, no matter how angry you are. Thrift stores are for clothing, not purses.

In any event, phase one of my plan involves hiring a contractor. Stop. Don’t cry, dear closet. I don’t mean to imply you aren’t wonderful as you are. But I think we might both be happier if you have a little work done. More shelves. More space. Just a little tweak, darling, you’ll see.

And to further ameliorate your plight, I intend to buy a coat rack for my office, which I will then use to hang my favorite purses, the ones I switch back and forth between during the week. You know there are no more than four or five that see weekly usage.

Love always,

Ann, the bag lady

PS - I wound up buying two laptop bags this week. One is a pink and white JanSport, very sturdy and economical. That’s for daily use. The other was, of course, the adorable Juicy pink cupcake messenger bag. That’s for when I feel like flaunting my girl power. But don’t worry, I got a deal on it.

So what do you guys collect? Are you pack rats or can you not stand clutter? My mom does ceramic birds. Well, you know. Buys them.  Not does them.

Anyway…

I just mailed all my prizes, so if you’ve won something from me, expect it in the mail… in the next month or so. Hehe! I guess that means I should run another contest. You know what? I feel like supporting a Bradford Bunch author, so a random commenter will win a copy of Witch Fire by Anya Bast.

That’s right; I’ll snag it from Amazon and send it to your house. So get commenting! This book is damn hot.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go buy a coat rack, so my closet doesn’t break up with me. We’re on the rocks as it is.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

 Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

Okay, not everything on the list, although that is a catchy tune.

My favorite things are books, scented candles, perfume and purses. I’m also a sucker for sweet-smelling lotions and hand creams. Oh, and homemade soap.

Every six months or so, I order a bunch from a lady who makes the best varieties: cinnamon apple, maple and oatmeal, tangerine vanilla, dark chocolate and mint, pumpkin spice. Yes, I’m really talking about soap. It’s rich and decadent and no two bars look the same, all swirly and gorgeously primitive. If you want her info, just email me, and I’ll hook you up with my personal soap lady.

If I’m looking to treat myself, you can figure I’m getting perfume or a new purse. Last weekend I picked up the new Nina by Nina Ricci. It’s in the cutest bottle, shaped like an apple? I don’t usually stray too far from my favorite, which is CK Escape, but I was at the mall, and the woman offered a sample card as I passed by. I took it by force of habit, but when I smelled it, I actually made a U-turn, and followed her straight into the department store, which happened to be El Palacio del Hierro (The Iron Palace) in order to buy it. Sound like a powerful response? Well, I smelled it, and I absolutely had to have it.

Nina starts with a citrus tang, underscored by moonflower, red toffee apple, applewood, and white cedar, but as you wear it, the perfume mellows to a warm but delicate vanilla, laced with gentle fruity notes. It’s fast becoming my daily favorite.

That just leaves me looking for the perfect laptop bag to carry my beloved pink and white Ibook. I’m still searching after half a year, but I’ve narrowed it down to two or three choices. My sexy laptop bags, let me show you them:

First we have the Juicy Cupcake Couture messenger bag. It’s made of candy pink velveteen with leather trim, and it features adorable charms. Great detail and lots of internal pockets for organizing my gear. Even includes three loops for my pens, a must for a writer.

Next we have a sexy little beast that caught my eye

right away. It’s made of white faux fur, so don’t worry, it’s animal friendly. And no muppets or fraggles had to die in order to make this little beauty.

It’s charming and funky, very kicky, perhaps just the thing for my white and pink Ibook. But it can’t compare to the Juicy detail. This one just has a cell phone pocket, and that’s it.

But isn’t it raggedy-cute?!

And finally…

Here’s some country charm. pink corduroy trimmed in white faux fur, although it’s more of a casual bag. And damn if I can make up my mind which one I want. What do y’all think? I’m tempted to buy all three, but that’s probably grounds for an intervention.

Anyhow, enough about me. What do you guys buy when you want to spoil yourselves?

PS - Kimberly B, you won a copy of any book from my backlist. Email me, and let me know what book you want, and I’ll hook it up.

Despite some grumbling, I’ve instituted a new habit at our house. In the evening, after dinner, we read a chapter of a kids book together. I read some of it, my husband does, and so do the kids. The book I picked is The Golden Compass. We’ve got the other two books as well, for when we finish this one.

I thought since it’s coming out as a movie soon, the kids would be interested in reading it. I’ve heard it’s actually supposed to be better than the Harry Potter books. This is part of the His Dark Materials series by Phillip Pullman.

It took over an hour for us to read the first chapter aloud, but it was worth it I think. We did a lot of pausing for Q&A, testing the kids on what they had read or heard. In this way, we’re sharpening their reading and listening skills. For a children’s book, this one has a lot of words that we define for the kids as we go along, such as “ingratiate” or “apprehension.” They figured out the definition of the latter by using context; I was proud of them!

Before now, I really considered reading a solitary thing. I didn’t realize how much fun four people could have with a book. Sure, we used to read bedtimes stories when they were little, but they grew out of it, and our family book time just sort of lapsed. That’s a terrible thing to admit as an author, but we’re having fun with this now. We’ll read a chapter a night until it’s finished.

Do you guys do anything like this? If so, what books could you recommend to add to my family reading list? Bear in mind the kids are 8 and 10. If not, how come? A random commenter will receive any book they like from my backlist.

I get some of my best ideas in dreams.

For the last two nights, I’ve been lost in an ongoing action-adventure style sleep saga where the heroine is actually me inside another skin, though that’s not always the case. Anyway, this dream is …freaking amazing.

It’s about this woman who gets kidnapped by a survivalist, end-of-the-world-is-coming Riddick type (that’s Vin Diesel from Pitch Black, if you didn’t know). At first she’s utterly terrified and just wants to go home. But he keeps telling her she’s his Chosen, and she’s like, WTF? You are crazy, dude.

So they’re living all isolated off tuna and canned peas until she loses track of time. He’s oddly considerate of her, though, no matter how much she rants or protests. He goes out from time to time, all geared up in weird protective clothing, and he doesn’t hunt. He says it might not be safe. Once he relaxes his surveillance on her, she tries the television and then the radio, and then her cell phone. And finds that ALL devices fail to get a signal.

Of course, she comes down with a serious case of the willies, and she starts to think maybe he’s not crazy after all. Maybe there’s something going on out there. There’s probably some Stockholm going on up in her head, but who cares? He’s hot!

And it really is the end of the world. Well, the end of the world as we know it. (and I feel fine). You know how in many urban fantasy novels, some “change” or “awakening” has taken place? Allowing magic and supernatural creatures to return to the land? Well, what if I set the story during said Change? Wouldn’t that make for an interesting post-apocalyptic world? Instead of nukes, we have monsters roaming around, people can’t communicate with each other, supplies are running out, and civilization is falling apart.

So I’ve been dreaming this story sequentially. Which never happens! Man, now I can’t wait to go back to sleep for the next installment. I hope I get it tonight.

When I last left our two, they had found a carload of survivors traveling to an alleged safe-house, but then they were forced off the road and their vehicle disabled by weirdos in masks. Our hero simply disappeared in all the confusion, and the heroine turned into a Doberman, so the bad guys wouldn’t think she was of any value. (In the dream, I was like, Holy crap, I didn’t know I could do that!)

The others are screaming for help, and the hero hasn’t come back yet. Is he dead? Grievously hurt? What should the heroine do? Does she look for Riddick-guy or does she follow the weirdos in the masks?

I think it must have shifters in it, or the heroine wouldn’t be turning into a Doberman. Anyway, what do you guys think? Should I try to write this when I get time?