New beginnings. Aren’t they just the coolest?

There’s a line of dialogue in the movie Forrest Gump that rings so true to me. It’s in the scene where Forrest and Lt. Dan are celebrating the new year, ringing in 1972 (I think it’s ’72). Anyway, they’re in a bar and two of Lt. Dan’s lady friends join them. One of the women says to Forrest, “Don’t you just love New Year’s? Everybody gets a second chance.”

That’s how I view the New Year. A new beginning. A second chance to start over. An opportunity to tweak whatever it is I might have done wrong the first time. A second chance to make things better. The new year is the ultimate rewrite. A whole new page to be written on, so to speak.

I decided many years ago to stop making resolutions because I just never seemed to keep them. It always seemed that by January 5th I was already making excuses not to go to the gym before work, then before I knew it, I was adding an extra bag of cookies or Doritos to the grocery cart. Instead, I learned to set goals for the new year. I spend some time on the last day of the year looking over the goals I’d made that year. I do a little reflecting. Most times I’m able to give myself a little “atta-girl” pat on the back for accomplishing goals. Sometimes there are one or two goals that might require tweaking for the new year and I’m allowed an opportunity for a do-over. A chance to do things better.

So here’s my question for you today. What are you hoping to do-over, do better or just DO on your new page?

As I do every morning when I wake up, I head downstairs to make coffee. I futz around in the kitchen while it brews, feed and water the cat, then pour blessed fresh brewed java into my favorite, new red Krispy Kreme bistro mug with whatever flavored creamer strikes my morning fancy. Then it’s back upstairs to the office where I fire up the computer and hit the switch to turn on the stereo. And what do I hear on my favorite country music station this morning? A rendition of Silent Night. Don’t ask me who the artist is because I haven’t yet had my first cup of coffee, but I think it’s a Garth Brooks version.

The first words I hear as the stereo comes to life this morning are something about “all is calm, all is bright” and I, well, I laughed. Not a big robust laugh because it is three a.m., after all, and the DH is sleeping across the hall. I value my morning quiet time too much to wake him, or the dog who will undoubtedly want to go out and then beg for a cookie.

Yes, I realize the song has religious overtones, but my thoughts this morning as I snicker about the calm and bright thing is that there nothing calm about Christmas time. Although my nest is empty these days, I find there isn’t a calm anything about my holiday preparations, either. In fact, I’m downright exhausted this morning. A glance at the calendar tells me there are still a few days left until the craziness is over and done. Yet it won’t end with Christmas day. In fact, it probably won’t stop until New Year’s Day.

Although I’ve shopped until I’ve dropped, there are after Christmas sales to get through. Who can walk away from gift wrap and all the trimmings at 50% off? My willpower just isn’t that strong.

Although I’ve baked, made candies and have a good deal of holiday meal preparations done, we’ll no doubt be eating left overs until New Year’s Day. I just don’t know when to stop.

Although I’ve knitted sweaters and other what nots for our six grandbabies, there are still three grandbabies and two sons with birthdays the first quarter of the new year to make gifts for. Too bad those after Christmas sales don’t extend to the local yarn shop, huh?

And although I’m good and beat and could use a darn good nap that lasts for two days or more, I realize that my snickers over calm and bright are because I wouldn’t have my holidays any other way but crazy.

I haven’t been shy about sharing my battle with cancer. Because of that wicked battle, the past two years I wasn’t able to enjoy the craziness of the holidays. I just wasn’t physical capable of any of it, and it broke my heart. This year, thank the Goddesses, is different. This year I’ve been able to embrace every wild and wacky moment, and I’ve done my best to make up for lost time.

This year I was able to brave the shopping malls and I’ve done so with joy. I didn’t even flip the bird to the rude woman who cut me off and stole the parking place I was waiting for oh-so-patiently. I stood in lines and hunted out bargains and did it all without the DH in tow because I was able to do it all by myself this year.
I’ve baked and cooked up a storm so much that I hear the timer going off in my sleep. I sat back and smiled like a loon as I looked at my living room last week, cluttered with gift wrap and bows and packages still waiting to be wrapped and large packing cartons waiting to be filled with items to ship off to family members. I knitted like a mad woman for months to get everything done that I wanted done. And I’ve loved every second of it.

Calm? Pffftttt! Not for me thankyouvery much. Give me the craziness. Bring on the crowds. So what if the kitchen temporarily resembles a disaster zone? Fifteen minutes on the treadmill will kill off the extra calories — eventually. Let the cat steal the colorful ribbon that was just “right there.” Let it be crazy. Let it be wild. Let it be anything but calm.

So what about you? Are your holidays crazy? And would you really have it any other way?

The sugar highs might last a while, but for the most part, Halloween is behind us. On my street, one of my neighbors already exchanged her elaborate Halloween decorations for a giant, inflatable turkey that’s sitting in the middle of her front yard, reminding us that another holiday will soon be upon us.

There is just so much about this time of year that I love.

Baking. In my neighborhood, we do the coolest thing. A cookie exchange! A couple of days before Christmas the ladies in my “hood” get together and exchange cookies. So each year I try to find new, fun holiday cookie recipes to share with my friends. Since our kids are grown and live far away, our cookie exchange gives me an excuse to get in the kitchen and do some serious holiday baking. It’s an activity I look forward to all year.

Shopping! My friends don’t call me the Shopping Goddess for nuttin’, ya know. (Btw, there are only 54 shopping days left – get those lists ready!) There’s just something about it that I love, getting all bundled up and hitting the stores in that mad search to find the perfect gift for all the special someones in my life. Especially for all those grand young ‘uns in our clan.

The decorations. The gathering of friends and family. I love every bit of the craziness surrounding the holidays. And for me it all starts on November 1st. I begin by planning the Thanksgiving meal and the Christmas Eve meal, perfecting each until I’m satisfied. This process can take days. Then the baking begins. I try to do a little bit every couple of days – most cookies and breads freeze quite well. The DH is given a list of what items he has to bring down from the attic for decorating- and is given sufficient time so he can complain and grumble as is his tradition. And the cleaning. My mother-in-law’s silver needs to be polished, the crystal stemware and the antique china I’ve been collecting needs to be washed and readied. The table cloths and napkins need laundered. And the dust bunnies and cob webs need to be chased away.

This is the time of year I begin to think about all the things for which I give thanks. Naturally, all the big stuff. The continued good health of my family and friends. My cat. My dog. A warm, dry place to lay my head, the DH, my sons, my grandbabies and all the special people in my life. Two incredible editors and an agent who walks on water. Deadlines. Great covers.

But what about the little things? The things that just make our lives that much easier? And I do mean the little things, too. Here’s my top ten list:

1. Prepackaged grated/shredded cheese
2. Caller ID
3. A good wool blazer
4. A comfortable bra
5. Panties that don’t ride up
6. Pink fuzzy slippers
7. Circular knitting needles
8. Flavored creamer for my coffee
9. Non stick cooking spray
10. Self cleaning litter boxes

What about you? What little things are you thankful for?

X-Men: The Last Stand is now out on DVD. You can bet I was at my favorite store to pick up my copy first thing Tuesday morning, too. Not that I’m a huge X-Men fan, but who can resist the adorably sexy Hugh Jackman? Certainly not me, that’s for sure.

But I have a confession to make. I’m really not a big superhero fan. Superman never really did it for me. Okay, so maybe Michael Keaton’s version of Batman was pretty hot, but you won’t see me chomping at the bit to get to the theatre for the next Spider-Man installment. And for as much as Hugh Jackman rates high on the drool factor scale, I’ll probably even wait for the DVD release of Wolverine. I’m just not a super hero kind of gal.

Or so I thought.

What kind of Super Hero are you? Click here to find out your Super Hero identity, then come back and share!

As for me? Well, just call me…

Lady Fox. Tim the Crafty needs to learn to beware of my electric breath, and if that doesn’t do the trick, I’ll run his ass over on my Nuclear Scooter or blast his buns with my Ice Cannon — while looking particularly stylish in my carbonite cowl, of course. That is unless I’m too busy munching on olives or zoned out on a monsterous sugar high because of my fatal addiction to chocolate and have to send my faithful sidekick Starling to do the job for me.

Share your Super Hero identity and be entered for your chance to win an autographed copy of THE MATCHMAKER (not the ARC, the real deal today!). I’ll draw two random winners, so check back tomorrow to see if your Super Hero identity is a winner!!

UPDATE: And the winners are…

Email me at jamie@jamiedenton.net with your mailing address and your prize will be on the way!!

The Steelers lost yesterday. You could even hear the collective groan in my town yesterday afternoon when Big Ben’s final pass of the game was picked off by the Cinci defense. It bit. Big time.

See, around here, the sidewalks are rolled up when the Steelers are playing. If you’re not into football, you could can go anywhere and not have to stand in line during game time. There’s no waiting at all at the drive thru at Mickey D’s, or even at the check out counter at Wally World. The mall is practically deserted, too. Ten minutes before kick off, you’ll hear cars racing up and down our street as folks hurry home from whatever last minute errands they were running, to plop down in front of the tube in time the game. In Western PA we take our football very seriously.

I’ve always been a Steeler fan, probably because my folks are from Pittsburgh. But in my deepest heart lies a true 49′er fan. I was heartbroken when we relocated from sunny Southern California and I realized that first year in North Dakota that I wouldn’t be seeing my precious 9′ers play every weekend on television. I am so not a Green Bay or Vikings fan, so for ten years, I didn’t spend too many of my Sunday afternoons in front of the television with a craft project watching the games as I’d done since I was in the sixth grade. In fact, I noticed the people of ND don’t get too worked up about football. We went to our local high school game once and I practically fell asleep it was so quiet. My sons played football from the time they were old enough to sign up for Pop Warner, and our eldest played all the way through high school. In Southern California, we took our football seriously, too. Our high school games, from Freshman ball all the way up through Varsity, were major events with lots of cheering and tons of noise. I think I knew for certain then that ND would never be considered home. I couldn’t live the rest of my life in a place that didn’t go crazy during a high school football game — that we were winning!

But when we finally escaped ND to relocate to PA two years ago, I quickly learned my football fanatisicm was going to be well fed. I should’ve realized this sooner. My mother who doesn’t know a lot about the game can kick butt in Steeler trivia. Did you know Burt Reynolds once played for the Steelers? My mom knew that one. And when she was a sweet young thing, she worked in a restaurant where the Steelers hung out. I’ve tried to grill her for details, but she’s remarkably silent on the subject.

I don’t get see the 9′ers play all that often, but that’s okay. I live in Steel town!! It’s everything Steelers, everywhere you go. Our restaurants have Steeler specials during football season. Our grocery stores sell Steeler Snacks and Steeler gear. To us, Big Ben isn’t a tower in England, he’s our quarterback! And our news programming is practically all Steelers all the time, and when we’re in the play offs you’re lucky to get the weather report. The two weeks before last year’s Super Bowl, we had to watch Fox News or CNN to find out what was going on in the world because the local coverage was all about the Steelers.

So what do the Steelers have to do with writing or romance? Well, heroes, of course. We all know Susan Elizabeth Phillips has imortalized the fictional Chicago Stars – a fantabulous series and if you haven’t read any of these books, I highly recommend them (actually anything by the phenomenal SEP is awesome on my score board). But we’ve also heard, over and over again, that sports heroes don’t sell. I have to wonder about that, not just because SEP has successfully destroyed that “myth” over and over again with her awesome Chicago Stars heroes, but because I’m such a football fan.

What’s not to love about a football player? They’ve got bodies to die for, but granted they are on the big side. Charles Haley, a former 49er stepped on my foot once and said, “Sorry, I didn’t see you down there.” Now that boy was B.I.G! Football players are good looking, too. Joe Montana. Peyton Manning. Troy Aikman. Anyone remember the gorgeous Roman Gabriel? Hubba hubba!!

So here’s my question. Would you be interested in reading about a football hero in Brava? Yes, I do have an ulterior motive for asking this today, but we’ll talk about that later. Let’s just say I’ve been wanting to write a football series for a whole lot of years and leave it at that, okay?

Talk to me. Tell me what you think about heroes as sports figures, and I’ll enter you in a random drawing for an ARC of my upcoming Brava romantic suspense, THE MATCHMAKER, due to hit the stands on Halloween!!

UPDATE: And the winner is…SUSAN! Susan, send me an email with your name and mailing address and I’ll get your prize in the mail to you ASAP!

I’m in Deadline Hell. In our house, this is not merely a state of my mind, but it’s a physical fact of life.

Not that I’m complaining. I love having deadlines. It means that someone wants to publish the books I love to write. What I don’t like are life’s little intrusions when I’m deep and hot and heavy into a book.

The phone rings and interrupts my train of thought. I check Caller ID and don’t recognize the number. My family complains that since I have Caller ID I’m never home. That’s why Voice Mail was invented, wasn’t it? Leave a message. I’m on deadline.

The phone rings again — within moments of the last call. Again, I don’t recognize the number so I ignore it. Not thirty seconds later, the phone rings for the third time. Now I’m seriously irritated.

“Hello?” I bark at the fool on the other end of the line.

I don’t get a person. I get a freaking recording from a department store in our area where we have a membership telling me about a furniture sale.

Still seriously irritated, I hang up and unplug the phone. I have Voice Mail, might as well put it to good use, right?

Because my concentration has been blown, I take a quick email break. Nothing exciting happening there. Go downstairs for a cup of coffee, come back and read the scene I’d been working on before being interrupted.

Ahhh, there’s the zone. Words flow from my fingertips once again, until…

Maybe forty minutes later, I suddenly hear a voice — and it’s not one of the voices in my head — calling up the stairs, “Are you hungry?” Which is usually code for “please cook something for me.”

“Not really,” I call back.

“I made chicken wraps. You sure you don’t want one?”

We had the stuff to make chicken wraps? Last time I looked, them cupboards were gettin’ mighty low on supplies.

Still, the thought of food I didn’t have to cook has my stomach grumbling. What a guy. After all the years of living with a working writer, he gets it.

Take another break, this time for sustenance. Can’t write on an empty stomach, right? Spend some quality time with the DH. Life is good.

After lunch, check email again. Nope. Nothing exciting there. Play a quick match of Mah Jong. Loose after three puzzles. Pffftttt.

Go back and read the same scene — again. Nothing. Voices quiet. That pair of socks I’m attempting to learn how to knit are suddenly very tempting.

Interruptions easily throw me off kilter. They pull me out of the zone, and some days, it’s a whole lot tougher than others to find it again. Depending on the interruption, a whole writing day can be lost if the zone continues to elude me. It never used to be this way for me, but I’m thinking our empty nest is partially to blame. I’m no longer used to have that one ear open at all times thing going for me now that there are no longer children under our roof.

What do you do when you get pulled out of your zone? Do you have any tried and true techniques for getting back into the flow of whatever project you’ve been working on?