My New Crafting Mystery Series

I've mentioned a work in progress a time or two on the blog but hadn't give out many details. I was excited and a little nervous about the project so kept it a little close to the vest so to speak. It was a book with a new character, though still a crafter, and I was kind of afraid of jinxing the whole thing by saying too much as I wasn't quite sure where the book would lead. I was sure I'd finish it, but sometimes projects have minds of their own or what seemed like an awesome idea in the beginning fizzles out.

My new series, Twas the Murder Before Christmas, features Merry Winters, a crafterpreneur who specializes in Christmas: decor, attire, and personalized items. Merry and I share a similar issue (empty nest) and also a love of crafting and Christmas. I had a fun time writing about her and learning about her, her family, and her community.

If you follow my other blog (The Self-Rescue Princess), you know that Christmas themed books and movies are my favorite forms of entertainment. I dedicate my blog to reviewing Christmas books and movies from November to mid-January. (If you have any suggestions, feel free to share them. I can never have too much Christmas...much like my new heroine.)


Even more exciting than finishing the first book is having a home for it! In a few short days, the book will be headed to Henery Press who picked up the new series (currently contracted for three). 


In the first book, Not a Creature Was Stirring, Merry is excited as she's about to kick her crafting business into high gear with a purchase of a mobile crafting studio, an RV, and discovers it came with an extra item--a dead body. Right now, it's scheduled for release the end of January 2019.

The Lists of Christmas

The Lists of Christmas

I’ll admit it, I’m Christmas crazy. There is something about this particular holiday season (I’m not much into Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving) that puts me in the mood to experience and do everything Christmassy. Fortunately, I only put myself on the doer of the lists of must dos and my family can either benefit from or ignore all my Christmas giddiness preparations. I’m the crazy Christmas person in our home and I learned early on it made for a more pleasant holiday season (for all) when everyone’s enthusiasm for the holiday was respected.

To get the most out of the season, I have a few lists. Now, this won’t work for everyone but I’m a planner. I like plans. I thrive on order. And I like to know I won’t miss out on my favorites so I have a Christmas planner and have the following lists:

      1.  Handcrafted Gifts – I like to make each family member one item for Christmas. I need to get started if I’m going to get them all done.

      2.  Cookie Baking – I always do three favorites and one new recipe. My family helps decide on the three and I pick the new one. (Favorites: chocolate chip, spritz, and peanut butter and jelly)

      3.  Wish List – I have learned to include where I’ve hidden the gift as some years it’s such a great spot, I can’t find it until spring.

      4.  Holiday Movies – I have quite a collection of Christmas/Holiday movies and now that we have the Hallmark Channel again (YAY!), I have more movies to watch. I create my own holiday programming guide so I can fit in all my favorites and catch all the new ones on the Hallmark Channel.

      5.  Holiday Reading – I start putting together a list of books I’d like to read. I write mini-reviews on my blog www.theselfrescueprincess.wordpress.com

      6.  Christmas Eve Dinner – I do an appetizer meal on Christmas Eve. I put out the trays in the late afternoon as we finish up any Christmas day preps (like putting together items for the little ones who’ll be over the next day), wrap presents, watch movies and talk about past Christmases. I have about three tried and true appetizers everyone loves and then two new recipes (or 1 recipe and 1 frozen option). It’s one of our favorite dinners of the year.

I hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving!

Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part VI (Last Part)

By Joanna Campbell Slan

Author's Note: I decided to challenge myself by writing an ongoing short story. Kiki Lowenstein's friend and co-worker Margit has neglected her own health while caring for her mother, who has dementia. In addition to worrying about Margit, Kiki has a problem. One of the gifts she bought for Anya is missing. Although Kiki searches high and low, she can't find the gold chain she bought to accompany Anya's Star of David. Meanwhile, Margit's mother has taken a turn for the worse. Could this turn out to be the most horrible Christmas ever?

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part I here—

http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/11/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-i.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part II here—http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/11/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-ii.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part III here--http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/12/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part IV here—

http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/12/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-iv.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part V here --
http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/12/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-v.html

Margit’s mother passed away two days before Christmas. A call from the nurse on duty had hurried our friend to the memory care facility. I kept in touch with Mrs. Claws, the caregiver in charge, and she told me, “It was an easy passing. She slipped into a coma and only awakened once, briefly. But Mrs. Eichen was by her mother’s side the whole time.”

“I don’t know whether to expect Margit for Christmas or not,” I told my husband as we put the gifts from Santa around the tree on Christmas Eve.

Detweiler gave me a sad smile. “We’ll play it by ear. She’s welcome, of course, but she might not feel like surrounding herself with the noise of happy kids opening presents. I couldn’t blame her. Maybe we can slip away around lunch and check on her.”

That sounded like a good plan.

Not surprisingly, Erik was up at first light on Christmas morning. His shouts rang like a church bell as he shouted up the stairs. “Anya! Come see! Santa came! He brought us stuff! Lots of stuff!”

Anya politely knocked on our door, although we were already hustling our way out of bed. Brawny met us in the hallway with a sleepy Ty in her arms. I took my baby and like a Biblical procession of old, we marched down the stairs and into the great room. While Erik hopped from one foot to the other, Detweiler lit the fire. Anya had passed out one gift to each of us when the doorbell rang.

Gracie, my rescued harlequin Great Dane, stood in the foyer, barking and wagging her tail. This was a sign that our visitor was a friend, not foe.

“Look who’s here!” Brawny sang out.

A bundled up Margit entered the great room with arms full of wrapped packages. Her eyes were red, as was her nose, but her smile assured me she was pleased to be joining us. Anya helped her unload the parcels, but before she could set things down, Margit demanded that we close our eyes. When we opened them on her command, each of us found a beautifully embroidered stocking in our laps.

“Next year, if you hang these, Santa will fill these up,” she said.

An hour later, the floor was covered with wrapping paper. Ty was chewing on a box. Erik was totally absorbed in a Legos set that Anya was helping him build. Brawny had gone to put a breakfast casserole in the oven, and Detweiler was outside shoveling our walk.

“How are you?” I slipped an arm around Margit.

“I am fine.” Her eyes confirmed her words. “I did all I could while I could, and she is without pain. She is beyond all earthly cares now. I am free to move on.”

**

Margit stayed all day and accepted our offer to sleep in a guest room rather than drive home. I watched her carefully, but I quickly realized she’d told me the truth. She was fine. She was at peace with herself. Sure, she would grieve, but she knew she’d done all she could.

Detweiler and I were holding hands in front of the fireplace when Anya took a spot next to me on the sofa. “Mom? This is the weirdest thing ever. See this?” She handed over her stocking. A beautiful Star of David had been stitched on the front.

“Uh-huh. Margit was very thoughtful to combine both aspects of your spiritual life, wasn’t she?”

“Oh, Mooo-oom.” Anya chided me in that special way that’s unique to a teenager. “Not that! Look closer. See the gold trim around the star? It’s a link chain.”

And then I saw it. The missing portion of the necklace I’d purchased for Anya so she could wear her Star of David. My jaw fell open in surprise.

“How do you suppose it got there?” Anya marveled at the sight.

All I could figure was that when my gifts fell off the shelf, Margit had found the chain, thought it gold thread, and stitched it into the design. But, thinking of my friend, upstairs in the bedroom, this explanation seemed too simplistic. So instead, I told Anya the truth.

“It’s a Christmas miracle, honey. A Christmas miracle.”

**

To all my readers and friends, I wish you many, many miracles! Thanks for following along as I wrote this story.

Need a last-minute gift? Here's an idea...

Reserve your copy of Love, Die, Neighbor: A Prequel to the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series, right now for only 99 cents. After the release date -- 12/31/2016 -- the price will go up. So pre-order your copy today! https://www.amazon.com/Love-Die-Neighbor-Mystery-Lowenstein-ebook/dp/B01N2OHJMX/

Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift Part V

By Joanna Campbell Slan

Author's Note: I decided to challenge myself by writing an ongoing short story. I'm doing this live--and I sure hope it works! I plan to end it around Christmas. In the last installment, we learned that Kiki Lowenstein's friend and co-worker Margit has neglected her own health while caring for her mother, who has dementia. Meanwhile, Kiki and Clancy are working long hours in the run-up to Christmas, but Kiki has a problem. One of the gifts she bought for Anya is missing.

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part I here—

http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/11/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-i.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part II here—http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/11/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-ii.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part III here--http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/12/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part.html

Read Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift, Part IV here—

http://killerhobbies.blogspot.com/2016/12/kiki-lowenstein-and-missing-gift-part-iv.html

Clancy stood back to admire the gift she’d wrapped. With her hands on her hips, she cocked her head and smiled at the beautiful trio of packages stacked like a colorful tower. “I hope Margit likes what I bought her.”

“Of course she will. She needs new accessories to spruce up her wardrobe.” I struggled with the tape dispenser. Somehow I could never rip off a piece without twisting it.

“And thanks to you,” Clancy said with a nod to the boxes wrapped and ready on the table, “she’ll have three nice outfits to rotate into her wardrobe. Her clothes were getting threadbare, Kiki. Honestly, she’s really let herself go while she cares for her mother.”

After giving up on the tape piece in my hands and trying again, I nodded to my friend. “Yes, she sure has. I contacted the administrator of the memory care unit where her mother is staying. A Mrs. Claws. Is that ironic or what? She confirmed that Margit has been sleeping next to her mother’s bed for weeks now. In a chair. Not even a recliner. Mrs. Claws was upset, because none of the night staff had told her what was going on.”

“What does she plan to do?” Clancy ran a perfectly manicured fingernail along a stray wisp of her dark pageboy. With the recent release of the movie about Jackie Kennedy, more and more people were seeing the resemblance. We’d even had requests for selfies with Clancy from folks wanting to post pictures of themselves and “Jackie” on their Facebook pages. Luckily, Clancy took it all in stride.

To keep the cash register ringing in the run-up to Christmas, we’d decided to set up long tables and invite our customers to come here and wrap their gifts.  We kept spiced cider warm in a slow cooker, hot chocolate packets next to an electric kettle, and a huge plate of cookies nearby for munching. The idea had proved so popular that Clancy and I hadn’t been able to get to the task of wrapping our own gifts until after closing hours. Here we were, ten minutes before midnight, the weekend before Christmas, surrounded by packages, paper, and tape. But I didn’t mind. I enjoyed spending these quiet moments with my dear pal, Clancy. Besides, this way I could wrap all the kids’ gifts and not worry about prying eyes.

“Mrs. Claws ordered an oversized recliner to be moved in, next to Margit’s mother’s bed. She was very nice about the whole thing. I guess Margit’s mother really is at the end of her life. Mrs. Claws expected her to go any day now, so she’ll try to make the transition easier for Margit.”

“I wonder if she’ll fall apart.” Clancy took down a box with a LEGO set for Erik and centered it on a broad expanse of wrapping paper.  “Margit, I mean. She’s been her mother’s caregiver for decades. Even before her husband died.”

A lump in my throat made it hard to talk. “Mrs. Claws doesn’t think Margit will go to pieces. Her mother’s decline has been horrible. When I last saw the woman, she had reverted to her childhood. Since then, she’s become more and more withdrawn. Mrs. Claws says I wouldn’t recognize her.”

“I guess having her die will be the kindest outcome possible.” Clancy used the back of her hand to flick away a tear. She hated being emotional. Especially she hated crying or being sloppy, as she called it. “I foresee myself in the same situation with my own mother. I know it’s inevitable. It will come as a relief. But…”

“But once she’s gone, any chance of you mending your fences or smoothing over the rough patches will die with her, right?” I inhaled sharply, thinking of my mother, a woman who has never liked me. Even so, I had these fantasies that one day she would tell me I’d done good, that I’d married well, raised lovely children, and made a success of my life. But, gee, who was I kidding?

“Right.” Clancy opened a small white box that was empty. “What’s up with this?”

“That’s the box for the gold chain that I bought Anya. It’s to go with her Star of David charm. I have no idea where the chain has gone. None. I put all the kids’ gifts on that shelf unit in the back. Everything else was there, but that box is empty. I checked under Margit’s desk, under yours, and under all the other shelves. I have no idea where the chain has gone, and I hate to go out and buy a second one at pre-Christmas prices.”

“Then I’ll wrap this box and you can give it to Anya as it is. Empty. The chain is bound to show up. Could Baby Ty have swallowed it?”

Just last week the sparkle in Ty’s diaper scared the living you-know-what out of me. On closer examination, he must have swallowed a piece of silver tinsel. Since then, we’ve put a pet fence around our tree. The whole episode made me nervous. However, my husband Chad Detweiler had laughed and said, “What goes in must come out. I expect he’ll eat all sorts of trash before he’s a grown man.”

“No. Ty couldn’t have swallowed the chain. I had it here, at the store. I never took it home with me. Ty hasn’t been here since Thanksgiving. There’s no way he could have gotten those chubby little hands on it.”

“Hmmmm.” Clancy smiled. “Then you’ve got yourself a real mystery to solve. I know my mother mislaid plenty of gifts as I was growing up. She’d be cleaning her closet and next thing you knew, she’d be triumphantly waving a box in festive paper. Actually, I thought it was super-cool.”

Yes, but I didn’t. I was annoyed. Where on earth had that gold chain gone to?

**

Next week I’ll share the last segment of "Kiki Lowenstein and the Missing Gift." Until then, remember: The BEST gift you can give anyone is the gift of being totally present.

Reserve your copy of Love, Die, Neighbor: A Prequel to the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series, right now for only 99 cents. After the release date -- 12/31/2016 -- the price will go up. So pre-order your copy today! https://www.amazon.com/Love-Die-Neighbor-Mystery-Lowenstein-ebook/dp/B01N2OHJMX/

The End of the World?

If you’re reading this, then the world didn’t end. If it did end, then we’ve all gone home to somewhere - heaven, another dimension, our home planet now that the earth science experiment didn’t work out, or somewhere else out of the realm of my imagination.

The best explanation of the whole Mayan calendar thing came from an astrophysicist who said it was only a cycle that was ending and then the calendar begins again - kind of like our years, but longer.

I heard people in China were selling their things in anticipation of the end of the world. Why? Did they think they could take their money with as we hurled off in space or through a wormhole into another dimension. And would it work wherever we all went?

It is cold in Southern California. So cold I have on layers of clothes and sat with a blanket over me as I crocheted. We don’t have insulation like building back east do. We also don’t have radiators chugging heat. Indoors and outdoors is much more connected. So when it’s in the thirties outside, there is a chill that won’t go away inside.

I am buried in rewriting my manuscript. But if I keep going at the speed I am, I will meet my deadline of Jan 2. One thing that helps keep me at the computer is that the little room I work in is probably the warmest room in the house.

I still have to buy Christmas cards. I am going to aim for something that doesn’t sound stupid when it arrives after Christmas, like Peace on Earth, Seasons Greetings, or something like Wishing You the Best in the New Year.

Today, Friday December 21, aside from being the day the Mayan calendar ends, is the shortest day of the year. Starting tomorrow the days get longer. Yay!

Just a note to anyone who bought If Hooks Could Kill as an e-book. My publisher made a mistake and the patterns and recipes weren’t included. I have been told the problem has been solved and the e-books have the patterns and recipes. You should be able to get the corrected version from whoever you downloaded it from. If you have trouble, let me know.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Seasons Greetings and Peace on Earth!

Marlene's Cookies

For years now, I have envied my sister Margaret at Christmas, because her mother-in-law Marlene would mail her a care package of cookies.

Boy, oh, boy. Marlene bakes THE best cookies in the world. But until recently only way I could enjoy them was to show up at Margaret's, sneak over to the box, and snarf as many as possible! A few months ago, Marlene moved down to Florida. So today I sat down with her and learned a few of her secrets:

* She starts in October. There are some doughs that can be frozen and baked later.
* She uses the Betty Crocker Cooky Book.
* She takes careful notes of what works and doesn't work.

For example, she makes her bar cookies last of all because they get hard. On the mornings when she's baking, she takes the margarine, butter and eggs out of the refrigerator first thing, so they can come to room temperature. (Who knew it mattered about the eggs?)

A lot of her dough chills in the refrigerator, even for days, before she bakes the cookies. When she's ready to pack them up, she lines a shoebox multiple times with wax paper and carefully adds the cookies.

According to Marlene, there's a wonderful pumpkin roll that we've never tasted because it doesn't transport well. But she's making some this year.

I'm banking on Margaret saving a piece of that for me. Or else. I mean, what's a sister for if she won't share her cookies?

Holiday Traditions

I was just in Chicago and seeing Macy’s which used to be Marshall Fields reminded me of how Christmas shopping used to be. In those days the only stores that had shopping carts were grocery stores and everybody shopped at the department stores that lined State Street. Each store had it’s own personality, but Marshall Fields was in a class by itself.

There was always a crowd waiting to see the Christmas windows. Along with Santa Clause, they had their own special characters, Uncle Mistletoe and Aunt Holly. All the stores had special boxes and shopping bags for the holidays, but Fields were always the nicest.

When I was in college, I sold toys at Christmas at Marshall Fields. Once you got hired, you went through a day of training. They made a big deal out the fact that you were working for such a classy store. We had to wear dark colors and nothing sleeveless, and of course, no pants. The only credit cards were the store’s own and everything was written up by hand.

The toy department was amazing. It took up half of the fifth floor. If you figure that the store is a square block, you get just how big that was. I worked at the counter that sold microscopes and chemistry sets. Once the store opened, the aisles would get so crowded you couldn’t see the counter across from you.

Carolers went through the store singing Christmas songs and it was very festive.

All the restaurants were on the seventh floor. The Walnut Room was the main one and at Christmas they put up a two story tree. The decorations were always new and the big excitement was to see what the designers chose. They had special food. The only thing I remember for sure was a snowman made out of ice cream.

I’m not the only one sad to see Macy’s swallow up Marshall Fields. When it first happened, there were picketers carrying signs and marching outside the store, but Macy’s didn’t seem to care. The Marshall Fields clocks still stand on the corners and they left the plaquesthat say Marshall Fields on the building.

And they left the Walnut Room stay the Walnut Room and at Christmas they still have the giant tree. Chicago people love their traditions and every year make their trip downtown to have lunch under the Christmas tree. On the weekends, there’s a three hour wait. For the past two years, my dear friend Penny and I have started meeting for lunch under the tree. I have known her since I was two, so we have lots of memories to talk over.

It’s fun to watch the families come in and old friends like me and Penny. I just wish they still had those ice cream snowmen.

Macy’s apparently understands Chicagoans obsession with Fields, so this year the windows pay tribute to holidays at Marshall Fields. You’ve probably figured the picture on the top is the tree in the Walnut Room. And the picture on the bottom is one of the holiday windows with Uncle Mistletoe in his red coat. Poor Aunt Holly seems to have been forgotten.

The fifth floor still has toys, but now it is just a tiny department run by Toys R Us. Not the magic I remember.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

I hadn't been out in my car for awhile. The rest of the family has satellite radio in theirs, so I didn't notice. But this morning as I was heading out, I was shocked by what I heard on the radio. I mostly listen to two stations. If I don't like a song on one, I hit the button for the other. That's exactly what I did. But when I went to the other station, I did a double take. They were playing The Little Drummer Boy.

I know that station has played Christmas music from Thanksgiving until Christmas nonstop. I thought that was overkill, but this year they didn't even wait until Thanksgiving. I don't even know how long the Christmas music all the time has been going on. Did it start right after Halloween?

It's not that I don't like Christmas music. A week or two would be fine, but this is so over the top, I just avoid the station all together until the day after Christmas when the regular pop music returns.

When I was in college I used to work Christmases at Marshall Fields in Chicago. I sold toys in their huge toy department. The real start of the shopping season was the day after Thanksgiving. That Friday was the busiest shopping day of the year. We didn't open extra early or try to entice shoppers with the kind of bargains they'd trample each other to get. The decorations, the carolers that went around the store, the special boxes for Christmas, and the extra supply of toys was enough.

That tradition has been changing for awhile, but now it's stepped into new territory. I thought having stores open at 5 a.m. with special bargains on that Friday was pushing it. Now, their opening at midnight and Walmart is opening at 10 p.m. on Thanksgiving. How much longer until the malls start staying open all day on Thanksgiving and start calling it Black Thursday.

If "they" were trying to elongate the Christmas season because it was such a time of joy, happiness and goodwill, I wouldn't mind. But this is all about getting people in the shopping spirit. It's not even shopping. It's more like hunting. The stores drive the people wild with the promise of something valuable for a low price, get them worked up waiting in line in the dark and cold, then let the frenzied group pour into the store intent on bagging their quarry and heaven help anyone who gets in their way.

I understand the economy needs a boost and Chrismas is the big season for it. But did they have to take out the joy and magic in the process?

Christmas Eve 2010

It’s the day before Christmas and I have to wonder if anybody is sitting in front of their computer reading blogs. Probably not. More likely in line at Walgreens with an arm load of snuggies.

After six days straight of rain and a leaky roof, finally we had some sun. The good thing about all that rain (along with helping watering all the plants and making a chink in the drought) was how grateful I felt when it stopped. Just seeing some blue sky made me smile and feel happy. As much of a nuisance the leaks were, they were minor compared to having mud slide into your house or to get flooded.

And now that we’re past the shortest day of the year, the days will start getting longer again.

Over the years we’ve had parties for Christmas or gone to parties. This year I’m happy with quiet. I like my blog sister Terri’s idea of counting your blessings. And that is exactly what I’m going to do.

Merry Christmas!

Sing a New Song of Joy

This season of joy also lends itself to vast melancholy. I miss the silly gifts my mother would mail me. I miss the snow (but not a lot!). I miss the nip in the air (but only in theory). I miss the wonder in my son's eyes, the excitement he once felt when he was little and Santa was real to him. I even miss being young myself, and that thrill I felt knowing I would go to sleep and awake to a variety of presents, some expected and some total surprises.



Last night one of my new neighbors invited me over for dinner. I gladly accepted, as I relished the chance to get to know some of my fellow islanders. The meal was lovely, the company grand, and at one point my new neighbor said, "I'm getting older," as part of a joke to a friend. And I added, "Aren't we all?"



But older isn't bad. It's just different. When we traveled, we tried to impress upon our son that "different" isn't a negative or a positive. It is what it is. How they do things in Egypt isn't bad or good; it's just different. How they do things in France isn't better or worse; it's just different. And so it seems with life. As the years go on, everything changes. That's not better or worse...just different.

So when it came to buying and trimming a tree, as I wrote earlier this month, I decided everything about this tree should be different. This particular tree should reflect our new home on the ocean, our little house here next to the sea.

Of course, we needed ornaments to fit the theme. I bought mermaids, a sea turtle, ships in a bottle, and lighthouses. All pay homage to this new place in our lives. We're just a few miles from the Jupiter Lighthouse, so the lighthouses were a must. On our property there's a turtle nest marked, and I hope I'll be here to see the hatchlings make their journey to the water, so a single green turtle sparkles in the branches.

I haven't seen a mermaid...yet, but there are a lot of manatees in this area. One theory suggests that sailors saw the manatees and thought they were mermaids. I have my doubts, as a manatee is large and gray and cumbersome, and all the images of mermaids are svelte and gorgeous. But who knows?



Every tree needs a star, and that had me stumped for a while until I saw this beautiful starfish.



So this is still the season of wonder and miracles. It still holds magic and enchantment. And I can miss my mother and my youth and days gone by, but I'm learning to sing a new song.

I hope you sing a song of joy this holiday, too.

The Christmas Eve That Changed Him

Note: Doug Brendel and I have been friends now for nearly forty years. He's one of the smartest, kindest people I know. He might also be the bravest. For years now, he and his wife have been traveling to Belarus to minister to people. His newest book is called, "Why I Quit the Church." I asked him to share a post with us, and I think you'll be impressed by what you read. Doug's honesty comes through, shining like a star atop a Christmas tree. His words will help remind all of us to think beyond the simplicity of making purchases, and to move closer to the real spirit of this amazing season.--Joanna Campbell Slan

By Doug Brendel

The Christmas Eve that changed my life was not a starry night. It was a grim, gray morning.

Some guy named Mike and his pals had been feeding homeless people in the park every Saturday morning. But that year, Christmas Eve fell on Saturday; Mike’s pals were out of town. He asked our pastor if our church could help.

I was the associate pastor. If Pastor said yes, I was stuck.

“Say no!” my heart screamed.

Pastor said yes.

I was afraid.

I had never encountered a homeless person in my life.

They must be dangerous.

I was a skinny nerd with a paunch.

I had suburbia written all over me.

These people weren’t going to take breakfast from me. They were going to eat my lunch.

That frigid morning, we scrambled dozens of eggs, made gallons of coffee, loaded serving tables into a pickup, drove to the park — and here they came.
Homeless people began stalking toward our vehicles. My internal radar was beeping madly.

“Morning, Mike!” “Merry Christmas!” “Kim! How ya doin’?”

They were coming to help.

Mike’s group had been showing up in the park every Saturday morning for months. These were friends. They looked forward all week to this.

The breakfast line formed. There were 50 or so.

A good-looking young man — could have been a movie star — blond hair, chiseled features.

A round-faced Native American, pockmarked and bloated.

Small red-haired woman, no more than 30, but shriveled and bent.

Guy with one eye.

Jolly fellow, Arkansas twang, face encircled by red curls.

Young guy wearing far too little in such cold. Old guy wearing so many layers, he could hardly move.

Smiley, tousled-haired boy, three fingers missing.

Cackling, greasy-bearded hobo.

Babbling, shiny-faced girl: mental case.

Tall guy, cross-eyed, in an outback safari hat.

Sleepy gray-haired woman wrapped in a blanket.

And I was not afraid.

Even today, years later, I can’t explain what happened to me that day.
I moved among these people, and my heart moved in with them. This lovely mixed bag of miscreants and sad sacks. It felt like a family reunion. I shook hands, grabbed wrists, gave Christmas greetings. I slipped an arm around people’s shoulders, joked and laughed.

You can tell when someone wants to talk, and sometimes that’s when you can move in close, close enough to smell the days-old perspiration permeating their clothing, look them in the eye, put your hand on their elbow, maybe even reach up behind their neck and pull them into a hug. The fabric they’re wearing can be slick with grime. They can reek with the sweet salt stench of sweat. But when you touch them, something happens. It’s not that they come to life; they’re already alive. But they brighten. Or they animate. You might be the only person to touch them that day — or that year.

I kept going back, every Saturday.

They taught me to love.

I became their pastor.

Christmas Eve has never been the same for me.


**


Doug Brendel’s new book is available at http://www.WhyIQuitTheChurch.com

Decorating for Christmas

I finished my novel, Threadbare. I was beginning to think it was going to miss its deadline of December 1, but all it needs now is a final reading looking for typos and grammatical errors. I am starting to hope it’s not a bad novel. I love the title, anyway.

Starting this Saturday I'll be doing a series of local appearances to promote Buttons and Bones, whose pub date is December 7. It's interesting when a pub date and a due date cross like this, I don't know which is more exciting.

The Christmas season is upon us. This past Sunday was the first Sunday in Advent, only three more, then, the following Saturday is Christmas Day. It seems we practically leaped from Thanksgiving to Christmas, but helping the switch is fresh snow on the ground this morning. Interestingly, there are not a lot of houses all lit up with Christmas decorations in my neighborhood. Usually the outdoor decorative-lights business starts before Thanksgiving with some houses, but I saw only one house with colored lights on the big evergreen shrub in their front yard the week before Thanksgiving. I got out my enormous artificial evergreen wreath on Sunday, checked its lights, and tied it to the railing of our balcony. It has a double drape of garland that extends to either end of the balcony. That’s the extent of our outdoor display. Sometimes it’s very convenient to not have a front lawn.

When do you decorate outdoors? Do you perhaps not decorate at all? Or are you one of those families that goes all out with moving figures, Christmas Creche, lights outlining roof, doors and windows, perhaps even broadcasting music? Carson Williams’ house comes to mind - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmgf60CI_ks – aren’t you glad you don’t live in his neighborhood? (I should say, didn’t live in his neighborhood. This huge display – a new one every year – generated so much traffic that he was persuaded to move its location to a nearby park.) In the neighborhood of a late friend of mine, there was a family that covered their front yard with lit Christmas figures of every sort, from snowmen to Santa’s helpers to Baby Jesus in the manger, all scattered haphazardly. It was, as they say, gaudy but tasteless. I looked forward to it every Christmas season. I should drive by this season to see if they’re still at it.

I haven’t begun to decorate inside our apartment, nor have I done any Christmas shopping. How about you?

Ertyl the Elf Gets Down to It

Okay, definitely a little odd, but I'm here in Orlando, the Sunday after Christmas, just back from visiting "the Happiest Place on Earth" with my family, and Ertyl seems to be right at home. Piece of advice: If it's below 60 degrees in Florida, bundle up like you're planning for an Alaskan winter. Oh, my gosh. we were so cold last night, my ears are still frozen.

So here's Ertyl, and here's a cheer for the New Year, a year full of mystery and magic and more Killer Hobby blog posts!

There once was an elf they called Ertyl,
He dressed all in green like a turtle,
A lover of holly and all things quite jolly
He found the day after Xmas a hurtle.
"What do I do now? Alas, holy cow,
No presents or gifts,
We're done with our lists,
No halls needing decking,
No mistletoe necking,
No more frantic shopping,
No global roof hopping,
No chimney slip-slopping,
No house-by-house stopping,
No more green and red,
No reindeer need fed,
No polishing the sleigh,
No wisking away
In the frosty winter air,
The coursers harnessed by pair,
So much time on my hands,
Without any plans,
What shall I do?
So I don't feel blue?

I know...I'll write a mystery!"

And he did.

So shall I.

The Perfect Gift For Any Scrapbooker or Crafter

(That's the window over my sink. I love decorating the house, and I especially like small unexpected touches like this. The only problem? Those berries are toxic to dogs. Do be sure that whatever you use to brighten your home is safe for your pets.)

This week the Blog Sisters promised to share their ideas of perfect gifts for crafters. I know that a few were covered last week in our Last Minute Gift marathon, and some of you might have read my suggestion for a massage. I hope so! I know people worry about modesty, but I have to tell you that massage therapists can work around any concerns you have. And the results are soooo worthwhile. Treat yourself, why don't you? You deserve it.

In addition to massages, here are a few gifts I know any crafter would enjoy:

1. A Gift Certificate. Yes, no matter how many supplies I have, I still run short. Besides, there's always a new product or a new tool or consumables (glue, paint, etc.) that I need to re-stock. So buying the crafty person on your list a gift certificate is a great way to encourage his/her hobby. On Saturday, I signed books at Scrapbooks Plus! a darling store in Chantilly, Virginia. While I was there, two people came in and bought gift certificates for a loved one. Now those are the kind of Santa's helpers that we need more of!

2. A Glue Glider. I bought myself the new Glue Glider Pro from Glue Arts. Go to http://www.gluearts.com/ to see one. These look like those big packing tape dispensers on handles, but the tape is craft friendly. I get so sick of running out of glue tape, or having dispensers gum up, or having empty dispensers that are difficult to refill. My new dispenser is hot pink, so I'll be able to find it easily. I can't wait to use it!

3. A Crafty Mystery. Honestly, you can't craft 24-7. At least, it's tough to craft and drive or craft and travel. I can't figure out a way to bring my supplies with as I fly to visit my family. Not with airlines charging extra for luggage. Not with scissors being comfiscated by TSA. So when I can't craft, I enjoy reading about crafts. Did you know that the Killer Hobbies blog sisters have 84 books to our credit? Yes, and there's a reason. We're good at what we do. (By the way, if you wanted a signed copy of either Paper, Scissors, Death or Cut, Crop & Die, call Scrapbooks Plus! at 703-263-9503. Debbie has a few copies left.

Here's a pleasant bonus: You can order any book online TODAY and know your gift will be in your mailbox in time for the holidays. Amazon and Barnes & Noble have this down, folks. (I bet Debbie at Scrapbooks Plus! can get a signed book to you in time, too.)

Need a gift for someone whose vision isn't what it used to be? I'm proud to announce that Cut, Crop & Die has just been released in a large print version. In fact, I'm happy to play Santa's elf today. Just send in a comment about this post, and I'll choose two lucky commenters to each win a copy of Cut, Crop & Die. I'll announce the winners on Tuesday. (Be sure to watch for my announcement, as I'll need your postal address to get the book to you.)

NOTE: Due to the overwhelming number of comments offering to improve our sex lives through cheap prescriptions filled over the Internet, we're now sending all our blog comments through a moderation process. Your comment won't show up as quickly as it did before, but we also won't be tolerating foreign languages saying goodness knows what, ads for drugs or sex tapes featuring incest. (Ugh.) Call me cranky, but I was getting sick and tired of cleaning these comments from our blog! I don't know what sort of idiot orders drugs from a whack-o advertisement spammed onto a blog, but ... I suppose anything is possible! Okay, rant over. Return to my normally happy self ;)

Random Thoughts

I’ve played golf twice in the past week, the last time just yesterday. The weather in this part of Minnesota has been amazing for November, after a cold and rainy October -- it’s as if the two months traded places. My game is improving, not a lot or quickly, but noticeably. My drives go farther down the fairway and sometimes my putting is quite satisfactory. Yesterday, however, there was a definite trend into slices -- the ball goes off to the right. (To the left is a hook.) Frustrating.

One thing golf does is take one’s mind off writing. It does mine, anyhow. I’m having a tough time with this one section of Buttons and Bones and it’s great to be able to escape it now and again. Problem is, once back home, there the problem is, big as ever. But it’s fixable. It’s got to be, I don’t have time to tear the whole book down and start over. I have a feeling that pretty soon I’ll be struggling with it and it will just detangle itself and knit together like a good, obedient story and I’ll wonder later what the problem was. I’ve had that experience before, thank God, and hope to have it again -- soon.

I’ve started getting some kind notes from fans about Blackwork. It’s heartening to an author to get a note praising her work. This is not a hint I’d like some more, but encouragement to any of you who like a particular book to say so in writing. Many, if not most, authors have a web site with a “contact me” button on it. If not, write care of the publisher -- publishers forward these fan letters to their authors. You can get the address of the publisher from the library or on the Internet. Brighten someone’s day, okay?

The holiday season is upon us and for those who think they might have trouble getting in the mood, there is a new book called “101 Ways to Keep the Spirit of Santa Alive.” It’s by a friend of mine, John Hagerman, and it’s not a kiddie book, but a parents’, godparents’, grandparents’, aunt-and-uncles’ book. It tells the origin of Santa Claus, how Santa is named and described in other countries, and offers a great many suggestions for things to do with children to make the season more real, more wholesome, and more satisfying. It’s published by The Inspired Elf, a very small press.

Later this week I have to get out my killer Christmas wreath, which is about four feet in diameter, and pull off all of last year’s lights and decorations and put it back together again. I bought the thing at Sam’s Club about four or five years ago as the Christmas season was winding down. Got a heck of a buy on it and it sure looks snazzy hanging from our balcony, but somehow the lights, bows and artificial fruit get all droopy and tangled and burned out from just being stored and need renewing. I have a friend who is going to come over and we’ll spend a couple of hours getting it all prepped for the season coming up. I felt kind of odd doing the work this early, until I saw that two or three houses right in the neighborhood already have their Christmas lights out and turned on. The other houses still have their Jack o’lanterns on their front porches! My wreath isn’t going out until Thanksgiving -- and I can remember my mother complaining about Christmas advertising starting right after Thanksgiving. Now it starts right after Halloween. I know it’s important to merchants to extend the season, but the result is that by the time Christmas actually gets here, a lot of us are heartily sick of it. Of course, by Christmas, I should be well into plotting the next Betsy Devonshire novel -- and I think I’ll set it around Easter . . .

Next week we -- the Killer Hobbies Crew -- are going to publish a series of helpful (we hope) articles on writing. I’ve got the one on Plotting. I believe I’ve already published something on that topic, but it won’t hurt to give it some daylight again. I’ve seen a preview of Joanna Campbell Slan’s item on Character, and it’s really good, very helpful, whether you’re a beginner or deeply experienced. I know I learned something from it. So please stay tuned.

More rapid than eagles: through a wormhole

If you're reading this, say Thank You to Cindy Cullen for posting for me. I'm over the middle of the country by now, on my way to Boston. Flying around so close to Christmas makes me think of Santa and the incredible trip he makes every year.

There's a lot of talk going around about the physics of Christmas and how it's impossible for Santa to get his job done.

They point out that there are 2.2 billion children in the world and even at one toy each, we have something like 400,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second to get around world in one night.

A simple calculation shows that Santa has 1/1000th of a second to pull up on a roof, park his sleigh, hop out, climb down the chimney, figure out who's naughty and nice, distribute the presents, eat a snack, and say Ho, Ho, Ho, all without waking the household. Then he goes back up the chimney, gets back into the sleigh, dusts off his suit, and moves on to the next house.

Not just exhausting, but physically impossible.

Even though there's not a lot of sleigh traffic up there, it's not a feasible trip.

But the naysayers are way behind the times. Have they never heard of worm holes? Wormholes are features of space-time that allow a shortcut through the universe.

Imagine you're standing in a long line at the post office. You're at one end of the room and the clerk is at the other. Now imagine a piece of paper with a stick figure representing you at one corner, and a figure at the diagonally opposite corner to represent the clerk. Fold the paper so that your stick figure is on top of the clerk's.

See? You've just taken a shortcut to the head of the line.

That's what Santa does. With a little math and a dash of relativity theory we can show that, in fact, with every stop, Santa can come out of the chimney before he gets in!

No problem making all those stops.

So, yes, Virginia, relatively speaking, Santa can do it!

Now if only my pilot could find the right wormhole to get me to Logan Airport in the next 1/1000th of a second.

A Writer's Life

Well, life is getting better again. The book has untangled itself and is trotting obediently down the road to the revelation of the murderer. Mostly. Still some kinks. But that’s all right, I think I have it by the tail now. But my warning of last week stands: don’t try this at home.

Christmas is all but upon us. I am so grateful our family decided to give just token gifts this year. It has become a nice custom to give to one another’s favorite charities and we’ve made it formal this year. Give to charities in one another’s names, and buy a five dollar gift to hand around. I would not have thought anything fun or clever was available for that small an amount, but there is. Two of my in-laws are getting one of those toy weapons that fires foam disks and I’m giving those last as the living room will become a battleground as soon as they are opened. But I also found a very pretty knit hat with a bill for the sister in law who loves to walk, and a tiny statue of a rat for the other SiL who collects them.

A newer tradition I've gotten into: Compline. My church, the Episcopal Cathedral of St. Mark in Minneapolis, offers a Compline service Sunday nights in Lent and Advent. Compline is the "bedtime" set of prayers that dates from medieval times in abbeys: Matins and Lauds, Prime, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline. It's a very short service, about twenty minutes. Our church does it in extremely dim light, with everyone holding a taper. The prayers are very old: "Keep watch, O Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep." And our music director selects a very old hymn he sings with two other voices a capella. This past Sunday it was a fifteenth century hymn about Adam lying boung four thousand winters and yet was content, for "ne had the apple taken been, then had our lady abeen Heavene queen. Blessed be the time that apple taken was."

My writers group meets here tonight. For those of you determined to ignore my advice and try your hand at creative writing (is there any other kind?), join or form a writers group. I’ve been very lucky with my writers groups – I’ve been in just two. I have heard of groups that only praise each other’s work, and those that form cliques, and those that only disparage. The purpose of a writers group is to get each member published. Praise is important, and should be handed out by the bucket, but criticism is handed out with the goal in mind of adjusting a piece of writing so an editor will want to pay money for it. My writing has improved enormously since I joined my current group – and I was already published when I was invited to join. Writing is a lonely profession, and editors, deluged with submissions, look for reasons to reject our offerings. It breaks a writer’s heart to pour his or her soul out onto paper only to have someone say, “No, thanks.” Sometimes without even the “thanks.” So getting someone involved in the process who will say, “You know, this is a great idea. All it needs is a more likable partner for your sleuth.” Or, “I need to know more about the feelings of Joe as he finds out what Mary’s been doing.” Very, very helpful.

Excuse any typos in this, I'm writing it on the fly.

Merry Christmas!

THINGS LOST - AND REGAINED

This is being written Tuesday afternoon, while the snow comes down so hard outside it’s like a fog. Perfect time to be indoors with a mug of cocoa and a warm computer.

Funny the things we miss once they are gone, sometimes even more than we thought we would. Every year I’d get out my Christmas tree ornaments and, as I put them on the tree, would get all nostalgic. I’m in my sixties now, and I’ve been gathering ornaments since I was in my twenties. Of course some have broken or been worn out or been lost along the way, but I still had a few from way back when. Note the word “had.” Some weeks before we moved, I took out more than half my ornaments and distributed them among my nieces and nephews, because from now on we’re having a little tree, not the big one our much bigger house allowed. But I saved my very favorites, many of which were like a toddler’s “bankie:” more precious than beautiful. But others were both precious and beautiful. We moved the last week in June, and only now did I go digging in our storage room for the box of ornaments. And found them gone. I looked in every box – twice. But no ornaments. I was deeply disheartened. How could that have happened? It was, of course, far too late to go have a word with our movers.

After a few days of mourning, I decided I must either cancel the tree or buy new ornaments. No tree? Unthinkable! But on my first trip down the Christmas aisles at Super Target my eye was repeatedly caught by ornaments almost, but not quite, like my old ones. In a few minutes I was near tears and had to go away.

Then I considered: What would I have rather lost than the ornaments? My favorite books? My good dishes? My computer? My boxes of photographs? Or, worst of all, my 200-piece Fontanini collection? (Go to e-Bay and type in Fontanini and you’ll see what I mean.) I have about 200 pieces if you count every sheep – and I have six or seven shepherds, so I need a LOT of sheep to make them not look ridiculous.

So I went back to Super Target, and then to the Mall of America and even Walgreen’s. This time I smiled as I found some really beautiful ornaments. And a friend from my water aerobics class brought me two hand-made wooden ornaments. Already I’m building happy new memories.

This past Saturday I had a special early book signing for Knitting Bones out in Excelsior, which is the little town this series is set in. Usually we get a good turnout, but this Saturday we also had our first serious snowstorm and only four people braved the slippery streets and icy wind. -- and one of them had no idea who I was or what I was doing there. Wednesday evening we will have the official “pub party” at Once Upon A Crime mystery bookstore in Minneapolis. The owners are paying for a half-sheet cake and I will make marzipan decorations shaped like knitting for the top of it. I’ve been practicing with Sculpy, my efforts at least suggest a knitted scarf and ball of yarn, perhaps mostly because there isn’t much else they could be. It’s snowing very hard right now, but it’s supposed to stop by nine this evening. This is Minnesota and very likely the streets will be clear by tomorrow evening.
Time to go play with the marzipan. Life is good.

Great Gifts for Scrapbookers and Papercrafters

If you have a scrapbooker or papercrafter on your gift list, you might be baffled about what to get her. Here are some great ideas:

1. Paper: I’m a charter member of the “she who dies with the most paper wins” club. However, one sheet of several patterns never works well. Instead, buy a “slab” of paper or a package with a variety of co-ordinating papers. That way the crafter will have enough to do a project. Do be careful, however. Some kits promise hundreds of pieces, most of which are garbage. Look at the back of the package to see what it contains. You want a good mix of embellishments and paper.

2. Letter Stickers: You can NEVER have too many or enough! No matter how they look, or what color, letter stickers are essential to almost every project. A great idea is to buy two packages. That way your crafter will have enough for those pesky words like “proofreading” or “bookkeeping.”

3. Ribbon: The trend is lots of ribbons in all sorts of colors. Choose a color family or two and buy a variety—solids, patterns, stripes. Don’t go thicker than ½ inch width.

4. Stamps: I would say “rubber stamps” but the new clear ones aren’t rubber. (Who knows WHAT they are.) Right now, the coolest stamps are alphabets in foam. Also hot are any clear stamps with a doodling style and journaling stamps (stamps with lines on them where you can write your story. These are products that can be used over and over.

5. A Cricut or a QuicKutz System: This is the next step up from letter stickers. With these you make your own letters. The equipment is expensive, but worth it. If she already has either of these, give her a Cricut cartridge with another alphabet or cool shapes like tags or a QuicKutz font.

6. Storage Systems: I particularly like Cropper Hopper’s paper storage containers which are like magazine holders. You can see all your paper, take them off the shelf and easily find what you’re looking for. Also their "page planners" are cool. You can put all the pieces of a page or two in one and keep your stuff together. Make sure everything is sized for 12" x 12" paper, otherwise the containers will be too small.

7. Canon Selphy: This is a unit that allows you to download photos from the memory card and print them. It’s very convenient, quick and economical.

8. A Subscription: Keep the ideas coming all year long. I give a lot of subscriptions as gifts because I think they are a monthly reminder of my love. The top three scrapbooking magazines are (in no particular order): Scrapbooks, Etc.; Memory Makers; and Creative Keepsakes.

Now, where should you go to buy all this? I suggest Archivers. (The Canon Elphy might be best purchased at Best Buy.) Right now if you make a $50 purchase at Archivers, you get a pad of holiday paper FREE. (Yeah, I meant to make it in today, but the weather turned nasty. I'll see you there tomorrow! Of course I need more PAPER!)