Interestingly, I’m not sure most people make the connection between the gloomy weather and their lives. I find that after all this bad weather, married women friends are complaining about their husbands, and how difficult and dreary they are, and even questioning their marriages and choice of mate. Unmarried ones are fighting with their boyfriends, children with their parents, everyone suddenly hates their jobs or their apartments, and I finally gave up wearing spring clothes, and climbed back into my dreary grays, somber blacks, or army greens. It really is depressing living with gray, cold, rainy weather day after day. I think it affects our mood, our outlook on life and everything seems so much worse when you’re cold and wet and haven’t seen the sun in weeks. And worse, I think we all think that our bleak mood is real, and don’t realize that we’re just suffering from a lack of sunlight, blue skies, and warmer weather. It seems obvious, but I really think that consistently bad weather really brings us down, and for some even causes serious bouts of depression. Of course a sunny day, or a string of them, will change of everything. Our partners will seem infinitely more agreeable and appealing, our children better behaved (even my dog is crabby and hates going out in wet weather in whatever city we’re in), our jobs will seem more tolerable again, our homes brighter with a splash of sunshine in them, and we’ll even look better when we look in the mirror (I’m so tired of my own pale face!!).

There’s not much you can do about bad weather, but I decided to declare war on this wintry spring a few days ago, and decided to pretend it was spring. Yesterday I wore bright orange, with matching high heeled sandals. A few days before, I wore screaming yellow (and probably looked like a canary or a banana, in a big bright yellow sweater), and today I wore red and royal blue (together). I just couldn’t stand looking so dreary anymore; I looked as depressing as the weather. And maybe I looked ridiculous all decked out for spring, but wearing ‘gloom gear’ wasn’t doing it for me either (my worst old sweaters with holes in them that I wear when i want to crawl into a corner or under the covers when I’m sad). And I find that I’m happier today, and people have commented on how cheerful it is to see someone wearing colour. I think at times like these, when everything seems ‘off’, it’s good to remember that a down outlook may just be because of the weather, your partner, job, kids and apartment may not really be so bad, maybe you’re all just sick and tired of lousy weather, and who could blame us. I hope it lets up soon, but until then, I think I’m going to try and remind myself that life isn’t as bad as it seems, the crappy weather won’t last forever, and if you see me wearing wild, crazy colors, you’ll know why!!! love, Danielle

This holiday is particularly dear to my heart because my son Nick’s birthday was May 1st, which has always added special meaning to that day for me. And now that he’s gone, I give a May Day dinner for close friends every year on that date. I have lily of the valley on the table, and give everyone who comes their own little vase of lily of the valley. I even have plates and glasses and napkins with lily of the valley on them. It is a special day for me, and even though I am sad that he is no longer here, it warms my heart to be with friends, and celebrate the day. It is a day that is about good feelings, and warm gestures of friendship as people exchange the pretty flowers. Lily of the valley will always make me think of him!!

This year I’m having an Italian dinner in my kitchen in Paris, and there will be ten of us, eating yummy Italian food, with lots of delicious pasta and maybe tiramisu for dessert. And at the end of the evening, everyone will go home with their little vase of flowers.

Usually, May Day in Paris is a beautiful warm spring day, and we had gorgeous warm spring like weather in March, but April has been cold and rainy and it feels like winter again. So I hope we get a reprieve from the weather on May 1st. It’s a beautiful feel-good day, and I hope the weather will make it even more so, instead of shivering in the rain. It has been very chilly in Paris!!!

I hope your May Day is lovely too!  love,  Danielle

Here I am—-doing closets again!!! Spring Cleaning!!! I always question why I do them (other than the fact that closets get messy), and I think there are two reasons why I take such pleasure in cleaning out and reorganizing closets. For one thing, it’s something you can control. None of us can fully control our lives, people come and go, things happen, the unexpected and unpredictable turns our lives upside down (romances that go awry, children who worry us, bumps in our careers, lost clients, lost jobs, and all the things that stress us everyday), but when you tidy up your closets, you feel like you’re the master of the situation, you get to make choices, decide where you want to put things, and what you want in your life and what you don’t. You can dispose of every outfit you feel fat or ugly in, the fashion mistakes, the things you bought on a bad day, look at later and wonder what you were thinking. You can streamline what you own, and what you want to keep.  The second reason I think I enjoy cleaning out closets (store rooms, basements, attics, garages, any place you gather stuff!!) is because you can actually see the result of your work in a very short time.  Writing is a slow business, it takes me months or even a year to establish the outline for a book, think about it, work on the characters and plot. And then it takes time to write the book. And once you’re finished, editors go over it, ask for changes, make you do countless re-writes, and after you deliver the final, final, final version, then it goes into galleys, goes to the printer, has to be bound.  From the first moment I get an idea for a book, until you buy it and have it in your hand, it can take three or four years. And some people can take ten years to write a book!!! And even once the book is published there are more delays, with shipping, distribution, then you have to wait to hear how well it’s doing. It takes a long, long, long time to see the result of your work if you’re a writer.

But that’s not the case with a closet. You open a door, you see a mess, you start pulling things out and make a bigger mess. You divide things into what you’ll keep and what you’ll sell or give away, and you reorganize a little. And within a few hours, or at the end of the day, or by the next day, you have cleaned up your life (or so it feels), the closet looks impeccable, everything is neat, sorted out, weeded out and rearranged. And presto magic, instant gratification. You can actually SEE the result of your work. Like painting a house, or building something, or baking a cake. You work, you produce, and you get to see it right away. It’s so different from the long years I have to wait between thinking of an idea for a book, and actually knowing it’s in your hands, or holding the book myself. I love the immediacy of the result of cleaning out a closet, it makes me feel so productive and efficient, and so thrilled when I see a closet all neat and organized.

This time, in a burst of real ambition, I tackled our ‘luggage closet’. We have a room designated for all the luggage of a family of 11, and we’re a family that has always traveled quite a bit, and now more than ever. And when I say ‘luggage’, I use the term loosely. I dug into our luggage closet yesterday, and found the camp trunks of my children, the bags they used to carry dolls and doll clothes when we went away for the weekends. I found dog carriers in various colors, shapes and sizes, hat boxes that were wonderfully old fashioned, a crazy hat box my husband bought for cowboy hats he had bought in Wyoming when we went there on vacation. I found the 1930′s luggage of my mother-in-law, and the 1950′s luggage of my (much older) husband, I found attache cases, boogie boards, skate boards, and strollers. Whatever no one knew what to do with has wound up in that closet, until it was exploding with 25 years of refuse. And there was great stuff in there too, some beautiful luggage that is no longer relevant in today’s world, that would get ruined on an airplane, but it’s too pretty to give up. Some tote bags we bought in England that are wonderfully old fashioned and weigh a ton, but they’re so handsome that I kept those too. Maybe my kids will find them quaint one day. There were suitcases in there that my children have asked about for years (and I had no idea where they were and couldn’t find them in the mess), and there were countless wonderful memories tucked away in that closet, along with wet suits, roller blades, tee shirts from concerts, and souvenirs from baseball games. It was poignant and fun to go through that closet, which when I entered it was literally a mountain of boxes and suitcases, and is now so impeccably neat that I feel like I won the Nobel Peace Prize just for tackling it. There were 25 years of memories and memorabilia in that closet, along with a lot of things we should have thrown away years ago. I kept a lot of stuff, but I gave away dozens of old suitcases that were too battered to keep. And the really sentimental stuff I kept. I can hardly wait to pack for a trip now, go straight to my suitcases and know where they are. It was every bit as gratifying as I hoped it would be. Spring cleaning has begun!!! I feel ridiculously virtuous now, and I had a lot of fun. Someone told me years ago that cleaning out a closet is like life, you have to make a worse mess and take everything out and look at it, in order to end up with everything neat and in order at the end. Maybe that’s why I like cleaning out closets so much, I figure that if I throw enough junk away, and rediscover the good stuff and focus on that, my life will be a better place!!!

Much Love, Danielle

I had lunch at a totally magical place today. There is a small lake in the park here, the Bois de Boulogne, with an island on the lake. And I’ve always heard about a restaurant on the island called “Le Chalet des Iles”. A friend invited me to lunch there today, and you have to take a boat to cross the small expanse of water to the Island. And once there, there is an open terrace, where you can have lunch and sit in the sun, which is exactly what we did. It was absolutely fabulous, so relaxing and peaceful, looking out over the small lake, and baking in the sun as we ate lunch. It doesn’t get better than that!!!  I’m going to go back there again!!! It makes the good weather even better, and there is something wonderfully whimsical about having to get there by boat, even though it’s only a short distance.  And tonight I am having dinner at a restaurant that specializes in souffles, which I love too. So I am having a very fancy day in Paris, in the heavenly springtime sun. It was so pretty at lunch today that I had to share it with you.

Other than that, when I’m not being lazy, soaking up the sun, I am starting a re-write of a book tomorrow, will work on some of my song lyrics next week with the composers, and I am thoroughly enjoying springtime in Paris. Wherever you are right now, I hope Spring is on its way to you too!!!

Love, Danielle

As some of you may have seen, I was on Good Morning America recently, and even after all these years of ‘fame’, it still amazes me to be on those shows. I flew to New York from Paris, and had a really lovely weekend with two of my daughters (one of them is getting married, and we’re planning the wedding, so there is lots to talk about. But even without the wedding, I love seeing my daughters, and a weekend together is a real gift). And after a nice weekend, I had the show to do on Monday morning. And the show may seem early—-but that’s nothing compared to what you have to do in order to be on it. 

I had to be at the studio just after 7:30 am, which meant I had to leave my hotel shortly after 7 am. And you can’t just roll out of bed, and turn up at those highly professional shows (or any show) in jeans, with uncombed hair. They want you to arrive “camera ready”. In ‘real life”, when all I’m going to do is sit at my desk all day, a quick bath, my toothbrush, and a quick swipe at my long hair with a hair brush, and shoving it into an elastic band will do it. I have confessed to you before that when I’m working, I don’t get all dressed up and wear make-up, so my morning process takes all of about 20 minutes, and then like the seven dwarves, it’s off to work I go……well that’s not how it happens on national TV. You have to show up at people’s breakfast tables, or before that, looking put together and gorgeous. So the first order of the day is hair and make-up. And hairdressers and make-up artists want two hours each, so they’re not rushed, to get you ready for national TV. So in this case, that meant 4 hours before I walked out of the hotel fully dressed, combed and made up at 7 am.  The hairdresser and make-up artist arrived at the hotel where I stay at 3 am…..and I was still tired and jet lagged from arriving from Paris on Friday night…..ohhhhh 3 am felt really early. I almost always go to bed at that hour—-but get up at that hour??? I was not looking or feeling fresh as a daisy when they showed up. I was still half asleep. And when the alarm went off at 2:45 am before they got there, my dog opened one eye, looked at me as though to say “you must be kidding”, and went back to sleep. So the day began very early. Too early even for food and coffee. But fortunately both the hairdresser and make-up artist are really nice, and we’ve worked together before, so we chatted as they worked. It was still dark outside, which makes you feel even more like it’s the middle of the night. And the make-up you have to wear to look awake and alive on TV is more make-up than I normally wear. And it takes time. And my hair is very long, so once shampooed, it takes a long time to dry it. So we were busy for the next four hours. By then, we had coffee, some muffins, and croissants.  And by 7 am, when I was dressed and ready to go, it felt like the middle of the afternoon. We’d been busy since 3 am.

I arrived at the studio and was startled to see fans and press outside. They took some photographs, asked a few questions, and asked for autographs, which is very flattering, but still gives me that “Who? Me???” feeling, and I always feel like an impostor, pretending to be Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep or Madonna as we walk into the building, after encountering the press and fans outside.

A producer showed me to my dressing room, where they offered food and I declined. I just can’t face food that early in the day. A technician comes in to hook up a mike under your clothes (and if you forget you’re wired after that, which is easy to do, you wind up saying something you shouldn’t, and a gazillion people hear you somewhere in the studio.). Two people from my publisher came to be with me, and the woman who handles PR, and suddenly the dressing room winds up very crowded, as the make-up person fiddles with your make-up for a last time, and the hairdresser touches up your hair and sprays it again. It’s a whole process of being fussed over, which I usually don’t love.

And then, finally, they walk you into the studio, and set up where you’ll sit. By then I’m usually a nervous wreck, but Robin Roberts is SUCH a lovely person, that she makes it effortless. I have always been very daunted and more than a little overwhelmed that I am on ‘live TV’ with millions of people watching. What if I faint, throw up, or want to blow my nose??? You just have to keep it together for as long as you’re on the show, which isn’t long. They allotted 4 minutes to me on that Monday, and that can feel like an eternity sometimes, but if the interviewer is good, it’s over before you know it.  Robin Roberts is a terrific interviewer, she asks interesting questions, never throws you a curve ball, and makes me feel like a welcome guest, not a hostage.  We talked about my new book, which came out the end of March. It’s called Betrayal, and it’s about an embezzlement. I hope you REALLY like it. I worked hard on it, as always, to make it interesting and accurate in all the details. So we talked about the new book for a few minutes, and they even showed photos of my Chihuahua puppy, and she looked adorable.

Often on those shows, I have been upstaged by someone more exciting than I, or an oddball celebrity, or someone the audiences just love. Last summer, Lady Gaga was on a show that I was on. And I have to say she was fantastic!!! They interviewed her, and she played a song. She was wearing a checkered suit, with matching hat and sunglasses, and towering platform shoes. She played the piano beautifully, looked adorable, and nothing I could do or say would have been as ‘cute’. It’s tough to compete to HUGE musical talent, beauty, and youth. She was a knockout!!! Another time, I was on TV with the OctoMom, the woman who had given birth to octuplets (8 babies at once, literally like a litter of children). She had just written a book, and she has 6 other kids, so being on TV with the mother of l4 kids was definitely an experience. (She made my 9 kids just seem like beginner’s luck).  And this time I was upstaged by a 4 oz puppy that was described as the smallest puppy in the world. It fit in the palm of any one’s hand, and the owner of it was waving it around, showing everyone, and the whole place was totally fascinated by the tiny little dog.  We all were, it was incredibly sweet, but I felt sorry for it. The tiniest puppy was soooo young to be out in the world. And then finally, my interview began.

As always, Robin was incredibly nice to me, the interview went well, and shortly after nine o’clock, we were back on the street with the fans and press photographers again. And I disappeared into a waiting car and went back to my hotel, where I put on comfortable clothes, and felt like me again. Being on TV is always an experience, and never one I am fully comfortable with, but thanks to Robin Roberts, the interview went really well. And late that afternoon, I flew back to California. So that was my moment of stardom in New York. It will always feel strange to me, to be on TV and have to be so focused on ‘me’. I hope you saw the interview, but if not, you know all about it now. And it was definitely fun thanks to Robin. And if you happened to watch me, heartfelt thanks.

Love, Danielle

It’s that time of year again, time for the ‘Haute Couture’ fashion shows in Paris. It still always amazes me that not so many years ago (maybe 10??) it was an all week affair, running from one fashion show to the next, sometimes in some very unusual locations (swimming pools, a train station, the polo field in the park). Before that, the very serious Haute Couture shows were held in hotels, with the models going down the runway in elegant ballrooms. And now, instead of seven days of many shows a day, there are only two of the long established fashion houses left that still do Haute Couture: Christian Dior and Chanel. (Givenchy still does haute couture as well, but fewer pieces, and they are shown in a showroom, and there is no runway show).And now haute couture fashion week is only two days long (with many unknown designers who will never achieve the stature of the famous designers of the old Haute Couture, like Balenciaga, Balmain, Mme Gres, Yves St. Laurent).

Haute Couture is almost a lost art, with each garment made entirely by hand. There can’t be a single machine stitch anywhere on an Haute Couture garment. The people who work on the clothing, and make the gorgeous creations by hand, have to do a twelve year apprenticeship before they are considered full-fledged seamstresses and tailors. It is truly a dying art. And the clothes in Haute Couture often/usually include amazing details, like intricate embroidery and beading. The clothing itself is staggeringly expensive. An Haute Couture wedding gown (usually for royals, Arab princess, or the brides of mega billionaires) starts at $500,000.  Hard to imagine!!  And there is always a wedding gown as the grand finale of any runway show.

There are very, very, very few buyers left for Haute Couture clothes. Mostly, the shows are put on as important publicity for the house, so even though the number of buyers is dwindling, these last two remaining shows are still put on twice a year. In January, to show summer clothes, and in July to show winter clothes. And it takes three or four months to complete a garment for an order, which includes many, many, many hours of intricate, minute work, all by hand.

Typically, there are about 60 to 70 outfits in a show, and somewhere between 40 and 50 models (the most famous supermodels at any given time), and some of them change outfits during the show. And even if you’d never consider buying an Haute Couture dress in your wildest dreams, it is still an incredible art form and worth seeing. The French consider it an art, and take it very seriously. And it’s a thrill to see the shows. The decor and setting is always amazing, and there is palpable tension as people wait for the show to begin. There is music playing. The people who come to see the show are seated in the audience at hotels around Paris, or at a beautiful antique glass building called the Grand Palais. The shows are by invitation only, and invitations are hard to come by and considered a prize. The fashion press is there, editors of important magazines, like Vogue, movie stars (Cameron Diaz was at the Chanel show and looked absolutely gorgeous, and just like she does in the movies!!), and potential clients, who attend the shows beautifully dressed, perfectly made up, and often wearing jewels. It’s exciting to see!!!

The first outfits on the runway are usually more sporty and casual, pantsuits, suits with skirts, simple daytime dresses. Everything is put together as an outfit: the dress, shoes, sometimes a jacket or coat, jewelry. Makeup is sometimes wild and hair extreme, or the reverse: very sleek and simple. This time at Chanel, most of the models had hair teased straight up sky high, kind of like Bride of Frankenstein. And sometimes shoes are almost impossible for the models to walk in, the heels are so high. This time there were very pretty high heeled mostly sparkly pointed shoes with ankle straps. (And I have to say the models were terrifyingly thin, and often are, too much so. Normal humans just don’t look like that, and it’s a tough example to set for young women, and not a healthy one for their self-image. As the mother of five daughters, it worries me to see models that thin!!).

After the more casual outfits come short cocktail dresses, then long evening gowns, and finally THE wedding gown which is the finale. And after the wedding gown, there is a pause, and then the designer comes out, walks down the runway to the audience’s applause. In the case of Chanel, it is Karl Lagerfeld, who is German, 80 years old, and an unbelievably talented, legendary, energetic designer. He not only designs Chanel’s ready-to-wear and couture, but also for his own label, and another line of clothing as well, and he’s an active and talented photographer. His hair is snow white, he wears it in a ponytail, wears high collars, interesting clothes, often tail coats, and gloves without finger tips. He is surely a legend and one of the most talented designers today. Truly a remarkable person!!!

In this case, the setting for the show was fantastic!!! It was at the top of the Grand Palais, and an entire set had been built that looked like an airplane, with the audience sitting in rows, with video screens of clouds passing by the portholes and above. It was amazing!! And carts were rolled down the main ‘aisle’, which then became the runway, offering mango juice or champagne. It put everyone in a festive mood instantly!!!

The clothes themselves were very lovely as always, with some very simple, beautiful daytime clothes, some striking evening gowns, and lots of razzle dazzle in the audience, and some beautifully dressed women.  (You can see the show and the clothes on Style.com)

Chanel is the only show I go to now. I used to go to many of the shows, when there were many, and always to Dior. But although I respect John Galliano’s talent, when he began designing for Dior, the clothes were too dramatic and not really what I like, and I eventually stopped going to the Dior Shows. Mr. Galliano is no longer designing for Dior, and they haven’t yet hired a new designer, so the clothes were designed by their design studio this year, which interested me less as there is no real ‘signature statement’ by a great designer, with no big designer creating their clothes. So I didn’t go to their show. There has been much speculation in the last year as to who will take Mr. Galliano’s place (there was talk of Ricardo Tisci at Givenchy going to Dior, but he didn’t. Marc Jacobs, Phoebe Phylo (of Celine), and Alexander Wang. But no one has accepted the job yet, and the guessing continues).

So it was an exciting day. There was a press show at 10 am, and another one for clients, celebs, and ‘important people’ at noon, and I was invited to that one. It is always an honor and a treat to be there. I sat in front of the previous First Lady of France (Bernadette Chirac, and she’s a lovely woman I’ve met before), and also Daphne Guinness, fashion icon from London, in towering platform shoes, black and gold lame leggings, with jet black and platinum hair teased and swept up, and a ring on every finger. It’s almost as exciting to watch the audience as it is to watch the show!!

And no matter how remote haute couture seems from our daily lives, and even if one never owns a piece of haute couture clothing, it is a fantastic experience just being there, seeing it, and being part of it for a moment. The show takes about an hour, and I was back on the street (like Cinderella after the ball, but in this case with both shoes on) at one o’clock, having experienced the magic of it yet again. It is always exciting to me, it never fails to thrill me, whether I like a particular collection or not. For all of my childhood and adolescence I wanted to be a fashion designer (and went to design school, but got into writing instead), and I feel like an excited kid again when I see it.  It’s an amazing experience and a thrill every time!!!  Afterwards, I went about my life, did some errands, bought shampoo, and did some work at home. Back to real life…..but for one extraordinary hour, I was transported by the world of Haute Couture again. There is nothing like it!!!!

Love, Danielle

The preparations for international travel to France with a dog were more complicated than I expected. I needed official/stamped health certificates and vaccination papers, both for the airline, and entry into France. In addition, she needed an ‘international chip’ under her skin that can be scanned by European scanners in case she got lost in France, a US dog license, and a whole lot of paperwork to take along. I got it all lined up, and then for the actual trip, you need a regulation size carrying case (she must be in the case at all times, and can’t be removed from it while on the plane). You need a reservation for her travel (no more than 7 pets can be in the cabin on the plane, so they keep track of how many will be travelling on every flight), and you have to pay a small fee. Whew!!! Complicated. But important to comply with the rules. You don’t want them quarantining your dog if you don’t have the paperwork you need!!!

It took a couple of months to get all the shots, and all the paperwork and certificates in order. She missed one of my trips to France while I was doing that, and finally she was ready. The big day came, and armed with all her documents, I got to the airport for the trip with Minnie. (And no, she wasn’t wearing the pink hat. She was wearing a tiny black sweater which she hated and kept getting out of!!)

And when we got to the airport, the first question the airline asked me was “Is she an emotional support dog?”…..uh….what was that question?? I wasn’t sure if they were asking me about the purpose of having a dog, in a tiny black sweater, whose equipment took up half of a suitcase. (Maybe someone told them about the hat??).  In response to my blank look at the question, they repeated it with a serious expression. “Is she an emotional support dog?” hmm….well, I certainly love her, she is 2 pounds of adorable puppy, so yes, I guess she provides some kind of emotional support. Ah…they said, that’s different. And they asked for a certificate for that as well. Now there’s a certificate I did not have. Great wardrobe yes, a gazillion toys, yes, the kind of food she’s been eating….proof of her chip and shots, yes…..but no certificate certifying her as an emotional support dog. And then began one of those great conversations of total confusion where two people have no idea (or one person for sure: me) what the other one is talking about. I know about service dogs: like guide dogs for the visually handicapped, and I’ve even heard of service dogs for people with epilepsy, who are able to detect a seizure before the person can, and can warn the person of the impending seizure. Service dogs of any size can accompany a person on the plane. I haven’t seen them often, but I’ve seen them, very well behaved, and lying at their owner’s feet in the cabin.  Well, guess what? Emotional Support Dogs are now in the same category, and are ‘official’. The airline representative explained to me that if you tell the airline that you are afraid to fly, and have a certificate testifying to that, you can bring your dog on the plane, in the cabin with you, without a carrier bag, without a reservation, with no size restriction (I guess you could bring a Great Dane or a Saint Bernard), and they can travel with you, free of charge. The size and weight restrictions do not apply (otherwise, for non-support dogs, 12 pounds is the limit for international travel, and I think it’s 20 pounds in the States). I was bowled over by that information. For one thing, so many people are nervous about flying, particularly since 9/11, that if they all brought an emotional support dog, the plane would look like Noah’s Ark.  I doubt that most people know about that new feature for travelling pets. I’d never heard of it. And I’m sure you still need all the vaccinations and papers even for an emotional support dog. But the airlines really give people a break if they are afraid to fly and feel they need to bring their dog with them. I was really impressed that they don’t need to be in a bag (like Minnie—fierce 2 pound attack dog that she is!!), emotional support dogs can be as large a dog as you want, and there is no fee for an emotional support dog (Minnie had to pay $125.00 for the trip).  It was a whole new aspect of pet travel I’d never heard of. Poor Minnie must have felt a little left out, in spite of her sweater, pink collar, many toys, and the pink hat in her suitcase. Actually, on a more serious note, I think it’s wonderful that the airlines are so sensitive to nervous flyers (there are several in my family), and recognize that travel with their dogs will bring them comfort. I was really touched and impressed. You have to have paperwork to back it up, and I’m not sure what that is (maybe a letter from a doctor about being afraid to fly?? I didn’t ask), but that was a whole new discovery for me!!! And I found it fascinating. So if you see a big dog, lying at the feet of a fellow traveler on a plane, now you’ll know why, and what the dog is there for….to lend emotional support. And if you see a ridiculously tiny white dog in a sweater and pink hat……you’ll know who that is!!! Miss Minnie!!!

Love, Danielle

So despite the book, and my self-imposed isolation, I got dressed and went to the airport, and took the dog, and it was such a thrill to see her bounce out of the airport after her ski weekend. (Even though I lent her ski clothes she made fun of!! But wore anyway. She had the nerve to call them ‘vintage’!!! My favorite ski suits imagine that!!) She climbed into my car, and we spent an hour and a half talking and laughing and gossiping, and chuckling, and having a good time, talking about nothing in particular, and enjoying each other, and even hugging and holding hands, and trying to figure out when we can next see each other. It was just perfect, and really fun, and I was so happy I had decided to go out to the airport, and not worry about the book!! She is sooooo MUCH more important than a book, all of my kids are!!!

The moment came at last when she had to check in for her next flight, and I walked her into the airport with a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart. I hated to see her leave. The little time we had together had been so sweet. We hugged about five more times at the entrance to security, and I reached out for just one more. And then she went through security with her carry-on and her dog. I had tears in my eyes. She’s in her 20′s, but they remain our babies forever, no matter how grown up they are. As I stood gazing at her going through security, like a watchful mother hen, an incredibly grumpy security man told me to move away (as though I was a threat to airport security, waving at my daughter, a harmless woman with tears in her eyes.)  I stepped aside, blew a few more kisses and waved again, and that really pissed him off, scowling at me he told me to move far away, and pointed to a distant corner, where I could still see her through the glass wall. He must have had a really bad day, or a miserable life. In any case, I moved, and found myself standing next to a Greek man, waving just as frantically at his daughter, who looked about the same age. “Your daughter?” He asked me and I said yes, “Me too,” he said, “she lives in Vancouver”. I told him mine lived in LA. And the two of us were waving and blowing kisses at our two girls, who were blowing kisses and waving back. I was suddenly reminded of leaving her on the first day of school in Kindergarten, or standing mesmerized at the window of the hospital nursery where they are so brand new. Nothing had changed. We loved them just as much, and seeing them leave was clearly hard for both of us and our girls. (My family travels a lot, as do I and I normally don’t go to airports to see them off, but this special moment was like a gift when I could have an hour or two with my daughter in the midst of her travels, when I might not see her for another month or two).  “They’ll always be our babies”, the man commented next to me, and we chatted then about how old they are, what they do for work, how often we see them, as we continued to wave through the glass wall, and our girls continued to wave back. And then finally, they passed to the other side of security and we couldn’t see them anymore. I saw that the man had the same tears in his eyes that I did, and surely the same lump in his throat, as his daughter disappeared. “Good luck”, he said wistfully, and we shook hands…..good luck with watching them grow up….saying goodbye….watching them leave…..standing in an airport all alone, and wishing you could turn the clock back to another time, when they still lived at home, and you never had to say goodbye.  I went back to my car and drove home, thinking how lucky I was to have these precious moments with a child I love, and how blessed I am when I see them, for however little time and far too seldom, living in different cities now from several of them. That 90 minutes of hugging and talking and laughing today really was a gift, an island of joy in a turbulent world. And all I could think was Thank God, I stopped working and went to the airport to see her, even for a short time, even if it slows the flow of “genius” for an hour or two—who cares??? I was so grateful for that time with my daughter, and that I’d been smart enough to seize it, with the excuse of taking her dog. The Greek man I chatted with had the same feeling I did, of how lucky we were. Such tiny precious moments…..I will never forget them, they go in a memory book of motherhood and get tucked deep into my heart. And on the way home, she texted me from the plane, and felt the same way I did, of how lucky we had been to have those precious moments today…..I smiled through my tears when I read it…..what a beautiful day.

I’ve had all kinds of Christmases, both good and bad, starting with lavish ones as a child, in the German traditions of my father (he loved Christmas!!!), but I had no mother to share them with, since my mother left when I was 6, which was a gaping hole in my life then, as a young child. I had happy Christmases at the beginning of my marriage, and sad ones at the end. And a few completely alone when, divorced, I had a young daughter who went to visit her father in France every other year, and I just sat home and cried, alone. I have had fairy tale Christmases, surrounded by my many children when they were young, when everything went the way it was supposed to and most people dream of….and then the shattering Christmas, 3 months after I lost my son, when we all sat paralyzed with grief. To try and lighten the mood, I decided to give an ice skating party for my friends and their kids. It didn’t fill the void, but reminded my family that life goes on, and there is still laughter and love and fun in our lives, surrounding ourselves with good friends. I’ve had romantic Christmases and some really depressing ones, since I’ve been single….the man I loved passionately (and later married) who decided that being in Antarctica was more fun than being with me, so he spent the holiday with penguins, and I wound up alone that year, an all-time low. Even in a good, happy, wholesome life with family and a solid marriage, Christmas isn’t perfect every year, and I’ve spent enough hard ones to be sensitive to the fact that the holidays are really tough for some people, particularly if they’ve encountered disappointment or loss, or are alone. There are a lot of lonely people in the world, and contrary to common belief, having a family isn’t always a guarantee that the holiday will be great. Some of us go home to parents we never got along with in the first place, and all the same problems surface again, or siblings we have nothing in common with, or we have to send children to a divorced spouse, and sometimes we are just so stressed out that we wind up fighting with people we love, in spite of good intentions. Truly, despite my many children, I know how hard holidays can be, and they underline the fact that we’re alone, or what’s not going right in our lives.

There are several ways to view how to handle difficult holidays. Forget them: not always so easy to do, with Jingle Bells playing in every elevator and supermarket, and a Santa with his beard askew on every corner. (And shouting obscenities at street corner Santas, and taking our frustrations out on him is not considered ‘cool’).  You can spend the holidays with good friends and people you really like to be with, which is a warm way to spend it. Or remember that it is one day, and not a year long. You can get through one tough day, you’ve done it before. And gratitude for what you do have: even if it’s not perfect, there must be ONE thing you can be grateful for. One particularly awful year many years ago, the only thing I could think of to be grateful for was a new pair of shoes I had bought myself and loved (that was a particularly low year). And also, giving up your time to people less fortunate and in great need. I’ve spent many nights in my years of street outreach, with the homeless, and let me tell you, seeing the misery they’re in will wake you up to just how lucky you are to even come home to a warm bed. I don’t think fabulous holidays just happen in many lives, I think sometimes we have to work at keeping our spirits up, and making the holiday good for others. Usually, when I stop worrying about how happy I’ll be, and just concentrate on making others happy, I wind up happier myself. (Some of my Christmas dreams and wishes have been slow in coming, or Santa lost my list along the way, but I have so many things/people to be grateful for that in the end I feel blessed anyway). Maybe the answer to better holidays is to try to avoid the things that stress you most, if possible, and depress you, and make sure you do some of the things that are really meaningful to you and make you happy, whatever that is. I have spent Christmases in poverty (in my early writing years) and in wealth, and although it’s a great feeling to be able to buy somebody a great gift you know they want, the year that I bought items and furniture in junk stores and refinished them for people I loved was one of my best years. I worked so hard on gifts I hoped they’d love. (As for what I get, it’s often weird. People view me as having ‘so much’ or ‘everything’ that it intimidates them, so they give me nothing, or a candle—-or a fruit cake!!! (I accept chocolate all year round), what they don’t realize is how touched I am by small thoughtful gifts, however small. And there is always one gift every year, which touches my heart, and shows that someone cares and knows me well. Maybe that’s all that really matters, showing the people you care about that you’re thinking about them and care about them. Even a phone call to a beloved friend can show them that at the right time.) Anyway, try and plan a little so that the hard parts of Christmas don’t hit you quite so hard. And I’ll try to do the same!!! And if your family drives you crazy, try to shield yourself as best you can, so they don’t ruin the holiday for you, and remember that you only have to put up with them for a day or two. I never went home to my parents for the holidays after I was married, but if I had, it would have been miserable for me. (And at some point, you have to give up torturing yourself, even for a good cause, and do what’s right and good for you. You have a right to spend the holidays with who you want to be with, not people who are unkind to you, if that’s the case, and make you feel worse).  Try to shelve the old bad memories, and just focus on today. You can get through today. One day at a time, as they say.

I hope that your holidays will be fantastic. And for those of you who have the kind of Christmas we see on a Christmas card, you don’t need my help, support, or advice. But for those of you for whom the holidays are challenging, I will keep you in my thoughts. Most people don’t have such an easy time with the holidays, even though we think they do. Life is not a greeting card; sometimes it’s all too real!!!

Your mission (and mine) is to find something we love about these holidays, something to be grateful for, something fun to do (even if it’s watching your favorite TV show or old movie, with a bowl of popcorn you made yourself!!). Be good to yourself, no matter what Santa does, or how annoying your family might be, or how alone you feel. We are all in this together. May your holidays be blessed in ways you never expected, cherish the tiny moments, and the joys. I wish you the happiest of holidays…and I hope Santa comes through for you!!!

With much love, Danielle

Like everyone else, I get down in the dumps sometimes, with life’s up and downs (and sometimes more downs than ups). And we all have our ways of dealing with it, and how we pull ourselves out of a slump….talk to a friend, indulge ourselves for a while (sometimes I go shopping when I’m feeling sorry for myself…buying shoes can cheer me up). Other times, it takes more effort to rev our engines up again. When a slew of things knock us down, it can take a while to get back up.  And although it’s not for everyone, I’ve mentioned before that I’m religious. That’s a very personal choice, and it works for me, and keeps me afloat, on a daily basis, and particularly in bad times. I don’t sell it to anyone, it just works for me. I’ve been married to an atheist, and a non-practicing Catholic, and I’ve never expected anyone (not even my children) to follow what I do. It is an entirely personal choice. So I’m not selling it to you either.

A few years ago, while staying in a hotel in New York, I flipped through the channels of the TV and came across a young minister doing a TV show. He was from Texas, but it wasn’t religion of the bible-thumping variety. But just a very positive, practical view of life, which really touched me—and would have made sense even without religion. It was a way of looking at things, of focusing on the positive, rather than the negative, and being grateful for what’s right in our lives, rather than dwelling on what’s wrong. I loved what he said. His name was Joel Osteen. And not long after, again while travelling, and walking through an airport, I saw a book he’d written and bought it. The book became a #1 bestseller, and I loved it. It was that same warm, practical, positive philosophy I’d seen and heard when I saw him on TV.

I just finished his third book today, and I loved this one too. He reminds one that even if your life seems to be in the pits right now—-any minute it could turn around. Your health could improve, you could get a better job, your marriage might get better, or you may finally find the man or woman you’ve been looking for. What he gives in his books is Hope, something I think is so essential in life. And it’s easy to lose hope sometimes, we’ve all done it. I have. Maybe you have too. When things just get so bad, you think you can’t stand it anymore. The death of someone you love, the end of a marriage, a bad divorce, money troubles, a child you are desperately worried about, or a serious health problem, or even a slew of smaller problems that add up, or a failed romance, or you’ve just had too many disappointments in your life. Or sometimes just an overlay of gray on your life. We forget that things could, might, and will get better again, that things will shift and improve. I forget that anyway, when things are looking bleak, and they have at times, I think it’s ‘all over’, and it will be that way forever.  In his books, Joel Osteen gently turns you around to see a different view, a different side of things, a better perspective. His books really work for me. They pull me right out of the dumps and get me back on my feet and headed in the right direction. Even without the religious aspect or inspiration, his positive philosophy really does make sense, and gives me hope, and the tools and inspiration to look at things more positively again.

When I finished his book today, I had the same feeling of hope I had after reading his other books….and I found myself thinking….Yeah, I really CAN do it….yes, it will be okay….and that the knotty problem of the moment could and will improve. He reminds you that your dreams can come true, that the ‘curses’ people put on us (family beliefs, or bad things people have said to us) have no power, and can’t hold us back.  I love thinking that my dreams will come true.

Something he said toward the end of this book rang a chord of memory for me, like a giant reminder. It was like having a window thrown open and seeing bright sunlight, instead of a gray drizzly day. He said “The best is yet to come”. And you know what? I believed him. He did it again. I don’t care how old you are, or how scared you are, or how sad you are, or how bad it’s been, it CAN get better and there is always hope. So I am sharing that with you, and wanted to remind you of it. I needed the reminder too. I felt as though I’d been lifted up when I read it, and was almost saying to myself “Yes…..that’s right!!!….” So now I’m telling you, the best is yet to come. I believe it, and I hope you do too. It helps hearing it, and remembering it, even in tough times…..the best is yet to come!!!

Love, Danielle