Believing anything

The very first copy of my very first book. As my father would say, "How 'bout them apples?"

The very first time I saw the digital proof of the cover I was working for a shaman in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I pulled it up on the computer at the front desk, and my heart pounded to see my name in print. The cover is in Tibetan prayer colors, my shaman's wife informed me. She said that it would be perfect to sell in the office with her Tibetan singing bowls and her red and gold decor. The book never came to life there in Steamboat. It took a year after moving to McKinney, Texas before it materialized.

What was the delay? I have no answer for that. I realize that I'm not in a rush for so much in my life. Before, years before now, I wanted everything NOW. Now, now, now. Now, I just want to be in the now. Now, I want to pay attention, to absorb the textures of what's around me, to have the sounds sink in, the colors swirl through me, and I want to feel the joy in it all. And after a whole bunch of nows, the book is finally published. And the length of time it took doesn't matter. It's here now. It's on the couch beside me as I type this. There are many, many moments throughout my days and nights where I forget it's done. It used to consume me, and now I can go through most of my waking hours without a thought of it.

Now, what consumes me? Besides the PR department at the publishing company? Besides the artwork that flows through my thoughts? Besides the to-do list that sits on the coffee table in front of me? Besides the dirty footprints and pawprints on the floor that need to be cleaned up? Besides all of that, nothing really. Nothing.

And if you believe that...well, you'd believe just about anything.

final submission

Finally, after receiving a birthday card from my best friend from high school more than 13 years ago, daring me to write a book, I finally, yes, I repeat that, I finally approved the last detail about it so that it can now go into production.

Thirteen years, two months, and six days later, it is done. Dear God, what was the frickin' hold up? Life? Moving several times? Going for my pilot's license? Getting a divorce? Raising a teenager? Working waaaay too much? I don't know. Maybe it's always about everything being in perfect timing.

In the meantime, between the date when I first wrote the first sentence to this morning when I approved the last correction on the book jacket, I raised my daughter from teenage hood to adulthood. I designed and had built a new home. I took flying lessons. I traveled to foreign countries. I got a divorce. I moved to the mountains in Colorado. I fell in love. I moved to Texas and finally finished the book.

I did not sit on my hands while working and not working on this book. I discovered myself and rediscovered myself. I entered relationships that pulled me in directions I didn't know existed before. And I fell in love. Again and again and again. I fell in love with the mountains, and then I fell in love with McKinney, Texas and the people here. I also fell in love with my daughter all over again. And with all these experiences I fell in love with the best parts of me.

I love me. I truly, truly love me. I am capable of the grandest of lives, the utmost bliss, and the most amazing experiences. I walk through this life knowing that all is well at all times. I open my eyes to the joy, my heart to the love, and my arms to the ability to give. I am. I am. I am.

And nothing more needs to be written.

Author Pictures for Book Jacket!!

Finally the book jacket is being completed. I just need to do the author bio and book description.

Here are some of the pictures of the photo shoot with Jim Butchee, the extraordinary hair stylist also. For those of you who haven't seen my new do, this is the man responsible for it.

I love Jim. I sit in his studio chair while he works on my hair and sip wine from Lone Star Winery. Today I even picked up my first two bottles from the wine club. For those who know me, I got a bottle of the Big Red! Woo hoo!! Rubye, the bartender on Wednesday and Friday evenings turned me onto it, and I have a glass of it as often as I can. We get a free glass of wine every day and even one for a guest, so I imbibe a few times a week.

Lone Star Winery is just down W. Virginia from the RejuveNation LifeSpa about a block. It's a casual walk down there after a day in the spa. We always run into people we know and end up staying a long time eating snacks and talking. Just once though, I'd love for everyone to call out my name when I walk in. At least yell out, "Norm!"
Now back to the shoot. Jim trimmed up my hair again to get rid of what was left of the red. I've been red for so many years -- and blond and purple, but I did something so outrageously drastic. I went natural. Yep, I was a little surprised to see what colors my hair really are. I've got everything from black to silver, brown to blond. Who knew? Do you know how amazing it is to not have to deal with coloring my roots every few weeks? I have time now for other things like finishing the book jacket.
So, first was the photo shoot. I'm wearing Jim's denim shirt, my daughter's pink sweater and a friend's necklace. Jim didn't like the shirt I bought for the shoot. It was too busy, so off it went and my daughter gave me hers. When Jim pulled a denim shirt off his coat rack, I was ready for the pictures.

My jacket cover is the color of the Dalai Llama's robes, so I'm throwing in a touch of blue and pink, not to mention gray.

The picture we chose is beautiful. Jim's going to crop it so not much of the clothing shows at all. We took the pictures in an abandoned garage about a block from the spa. It was a gorgeous day with a gorgeous man and my gorgeous daughter. I couldn't have picked a better day if I had tried.
So, as soon as I get all the writing done for the jacket and send the publisher the chosen picture, then the book will be completed. It's almost done. It's almost done. It's almost done. What an amazing feat.
In the time that I've been writing it, I've moved twice, changed careers three times, got divorced, took up flying, and started a whole new life in McKinney, Texas.

Oh yeah, and I stopped dyeing my hair.

One more thing, the book's called Healing Grace, in case you didn't know, and you'll be able to purchase it from Amazon as soon as I get it done.

It's a wonderful world.

I'm on my last read through. I feel like I've been saying this for years. Every time I finish editing this manuscript I think it's done, but then it returns with a message to read through it one more time. I've been putting this last read-through off for so long it's pathetic. There's no excuse. And today I'm feeling too sluggish to physically move my entire body, so it's a great time to get this done.

I'm sitting in my daughter's RejuveNation LifeSpa on the square in McKinney, Texas with a kitten sprawled across the table with a paw resting on the keyboard. Moo the dog is curled up under my chair and "Over the Rainbow" is playing on the radio while I type this, the reggae version that's mixed with "What a Wonderful World." I can't keep my foot from tapping on the hardwood floor.

And, yes, I'm really and truly reading this manuscript for the very last time before it grows up to be a book. That's what I've been told -- if there's no further corrections. Oh, sweet Jesus, let this be the perfect version.

Anyway, while reading I ran across this paragraph that took my breath away. It's lovely when that happens to me, when something I've written sparks something within me that touches me deeply.

And, when I read something I've written and I'm moved by how it's written. The writer in me jumps for joy. It's a moment when I want to toast to myself for allowing whatever force there is to work it's magic through me.

I came across such a paragraph at the end of a chapter where Grace, the main character, is interacting with her long-time husband. I love how the words speak volumes of what is way too common in long relationships:

"She looked into Jack's eyes, at the little flecks of brown around his irises. She felt the burn of his hands on her shoulders and his breath on her cheek. There had been a time that being this close to Jack would have melted her knees. Now she felt badly, horribly guilty, that being this near to him only made her gasp, for she had never noticed before the tiny lines crisscrossing alongside his eyes or the fresh gray in his sideburns."

* * * * *

And now it's been days since I wrote the above entry, but today, 9-9-09, at 5:16 I sent my last digital proof to the publishers. In a while (I don't know when.) I'll receive the first printed version of it to read through again before it gets sent out into the world.

This has been so long in coming. So long. I would have normally spent at least a few moments beating myself up about how long I've procrastinated, how long I've spent NOT doing what I knew I needed to do to get it done. Instead, something else very magical happened. I spent the last read-through while sitting in a business in the square of downtown McKinney, Texas, which is surprisingly very much like the town described in my novel. I wrote this book long before I ever divorced, left my husband, quit working in his office, moved to the mountains in Colorado, and finally moved to this small town-like city where I work in the coolest building on the square with my daughter.

What's most astonishing about this is that I wrote the main character's story long before it became my own. The book is based in a fictional town called Langsberry, Colorado where the main events center around the square where the people work and play and some live. While re-reading the manuscript I felt as if I was reading about the town I live in now and reading about my life now, years after writing the words I had been reading. If I had finished this all those years ago, I would have never had the magical experience I had today.

So, I wonder is there really such a thing as procrastination or is it perfect timing instead? Who says the book was meant to be finished any sooner than right now? Who says there's anything wrong with allowing a manuscript to go untouched for years before completing it? Who says? Not me anymore. Now I know better. I showed up. I just showed up and the magic happened. How beautiful is that?

And today I was gifted by a lovely man with a download of a song I absolutely love, a song that I've wanted to have for many years now, but didn't even know the name of the singer. That very song happens to be the song I wrote about listening to at the beginning of this post. Now I'll be tapping my foot on the hardwood floor in RejuveNation LifeSpa on a regular basis, because now I have "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/It's a Wonderful World" on my computer because of him.

It really is a wonderful world and I feel as though I've discovered the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Again.

My Bo

I just got off the phone with a friend. We talked for almost an hour, and now I miss him in a way that I haven't before.

When he was telling me about his writing, I wished I was with him while he was reading it to me. He used to do that last fall when we were together. We'd make love and then get up to watch some sports on T.V. He'd make his way over to the dining room table where his laptop was and read me his poetry. I remember laying on the couch wrapped in my robe and sinking into his words. I remember relishing the sound of his voice as the words curled around my ears.

I miss him.

When he was talking to me tonight, I wished I was laying next to him with my head on his chest while he read me the poems he wrote that day.

I miss him.

I envisioned us writing near each other, and when taking breaks reading out loud the words we'd just written. Or sitting in front of a fire reading great novels and being so excited about the words we'd have to read them to each other.

God, here I go being a crazy teenager in love. Well, not exactly. With him it's always been this calmness, and tonight was smooth. Tonight was silk. Tonight was a soft melody that just flowed effortlessly, and it felt so good. It just felt so good. It was quiet and relaxing and fluid. It was what I didn't know was possible to even dream about.

I really miss him. I want him back in my life. I want to lay down beside him when I'm tired and limp after lovemaking. I want to sip wine with him while flipping through a book of poetry. I want to run my hand through his hair when he holds me. I want to hear his voice while he reads to me.

How did this happen? I was living here in McKinney, Texas with a million things going on, amazingly wonderful things going on with a plethora of new friends and excitement at every turn, and then he calls me a few weeks ago, and I haven't been the same since.

There are still a million things going on with a million new friends, but now after talking with him, there is this desire for something more. A desire that goes very deeply into the core of who I am. Our conversation tonight stirred that center, moved something within me that's altered me forever. I don't know what it is, but it feels like something I've been waiting my whole life for.

I feel like I've been playing at being myself until this conversation tonight. It was as if he had the key that unlocked a secret compartment in me, and that part of me that has been well hidden has now been let loose. I can never be who I was before that phone call tonight. I am different now. Just listening to his voice reminded me who I really am. He is the siren calling me home, and home is not a place. It's a way to be.

I remember now why it was so easy watching sports with him. It was calming. It was effortless. It was intoxicating. I'm not a sports fan at all. I've never watched sports on T.V. until he came over to my home last fall and had to see his games. I was surprised I wasn't upset by it. I would've been with any other man, but now I know that with Bo it was just the most natural thing in the world as was making love, drinking wine, being in the library, walking, and kissing.

Just being with Bo, and now just thinking about him, I feel this resolute calming effect wash over me. It's tranquilizing. What is in him that affects me like this? I've never been calm about a man before. I've always been crazy and overcome and stupid. This is so different that I discounted it, but what if it's the realest thing I've ever had?

A Father's Day Wedding in Chestnut Square

Here's to the most adorable bridal couple I have ever seen in my life -- Jenna and Jason Howard. They got married yesterday on Father's Day at an historical home in Chestnut Square in McKinney, TX. I plied Jenna with alcohol so that I could switch my catering apron for her dress. These pictures don't do the dress or her justice. They are both gorgeous. And have you ever seen a happier groom? Here's a head-on shot of the two, Jenna and her dress. Oh, and her groom. The pin on her sash is from her great-grandmother. There wasn't enough alcohol in the place to get her to relinquish that dress. Jenna, you were such a great sport about it, but is there any way that I could inherit it?

I've often thought of writing another novel based loosely on my experiences here in McKinney, and if I did, I would write about that dress. The main character would be wearing it during an auspicious occasion, I promise you that. And then, of course, I'd have great stories about each of the buildings in town with all the ghosts that run freely through them. I've never seen a more "haunted" town than this one. It seems every building has a spirit of some kind that makes itself known.

I don't know the history behind this house. I'm only aware that some of these houses in Chestnut Square have been moved there to create this historical village. This is the house where the reception took place, and where Cyndy Long and I catered. Cyndy is a writer herself. She's got several projects in the works right now. Her tea shop is filled with ghosts. Just last week one "bumped" into me while waiting for his train. He stood so close to me, I couldn't see his right arm. He was dressed in a long black coat, black pants, and brown pointed-toe shoes, looking straight ahead as if he were looking at the train schedule posted on what used to be the train depot wall. He was holding a brown suitcase in his left hand and wearing a black derby hat.

Seeing and hearing ghosts in this town has become something that I'm used to, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't still give me chills. After seeing this guy next to me, I heard a woman's voice in the kitchen of the tea shop. That's when I decided it was time for me to be done for the morning. Yikes!

A friend of mine named Jack said I was drinking on the job or smoking something at the tea shop. However, he never would go into the shop with me either. So, Jack, who's smoking now? It's certainly not me.

Here's the inside of the house where the reception was. Look at those 5-pane doors. I tried to get my builder to put those in my last house, but nothing doing. I wanted those doors with glass knobs for handles. I am a sucker for vintage. Above the piano are black and white pictures of McKinney, I think. You can tell I do a lot of research before posting my blogs. Hey, I got the bride's and groom's names right, maybe.

These pictures just don't show the character in this house. You're not able to see the magnificent old floors. I don't know why I didn't take pictures of the antique furniture either, and these pictures show the reception after it's over and most of the decorations are down, including the table in the front room that was decorated with the beautiful wedding cake. At the end of a catering gig I can't be responsible for getting great shots and knowing what I'm taking pictures of, but one thing's for sure. I had a spectacular time, met some of the best people in the world, and am aiming to get myself one beautiful dress.