A bit of family news here, my college senior daughter has been going to every concert she can get to for the last ten years. She knows more about the young music scene than anyone I know. And in the last few years she goes to a ‘show’ or concert every night of the week, and sometimes two shows. And she has decided to share the experience, and her expertise, with others, —she just started a blog called “Zscrossing”, telling those who read her blog about the shows she goes to. If there is someone in your family who enjoys the same kind of music she does (loud!!! and a lot younger than what i listen to!!), check out zscrossing. I’m very proud of her!!!  She wants to embark on a career in music production after she graduates, and might like to become a sound engineer or sound technician, after some more studies. Very exciting stuff!!! Take a look at her blog!!! www.zcrossing.com

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 usually go back to Paris after spending the holidays in San Francisco with my children. I stick around for a week or two after they leave, do some work, and then head back to Paris, to enjoy some more of the winter there. January is kind of a dull month everywhere, the weather is lousy unless you live in a tropical country—it’s miserable everywhere else, people are tired after the holidays, partied out, broke after buying presents, and nothing very exciting is going on. For me, it’s a great time to work. I work hard all year, especially in winter, so I can take time off in the summer to be with my kids.  But as wintry places go, Paris is a nice place to be in January. Often, it snows, which I love, the big sales are on, which is fun if you want to find a bargain, and the big Haute Couture fashion shows are at the end of January. Many of the big designers have closed and no longer do Haute Couture, and there are only 2 houses left that do couture, Chanel and Dior, other than some new designers that have appeared. And I go to the Chanel Haute Couture shows twice a year in Paris, so I’ll be going to that and am looking forward to it. They’ll be showing their summer clothes in January. And I love to comb through antique stores, and go to my favorite auction house in Paris, all good winter pursuits. And I enjoy winter evenings with friends, over quiet dinners. There is something very cozy about winter evenings, and I like staying home too, catching up on work, or puttering around the house. I always have a million projects, things I want to move or hang. Or change in the house. So I manage to keep busy on long winter nights. And mostly, I write in the winter, and will be working on outlines, and new books.

I haven’t gone skiing in the winter for a couple of years, as my children are spread out and no longer go with me, and it’s no fun to go alone. But that was fun too, for a lot of years. And I might go to the snow this year with some friends. It’s fun to go on long walks in the snow. I’ve always been a cowardly skier, and was never a great one, and hurt my back years ago, so I don’t ski, but am an enthusiastic supporter. I do après-ski extremely well, and have the wardrobe for it!!! I look like the real deal, even if I’m not. I took my youngest son to a place called Courchevel in France a few years ago, so he could ski (he’s a fabulous skier!!) and we had a great time. But he doesn’t have time for ski holidays anymore.

So I’ll be busy in Paris in January, and am sure I’ll find lots to do between bouts of writing. It’s a good time to catch up on things at home, and even curl up and do some reading (which I do in summer, when I’m not writing!!!).

I hope your January is off to a good start, and I’m looking forward to a good year ahead. Last year was challenging, and I hope that this year will be easier for us all!!!

Much love, Danielle

I hope you survived the holidays, that they were better than expected, and if not, that you’re happy they’re behind you, and we can move ahead into a new year.

I’ve been busy. My children were home for ten days, which was absolutely wonderful; we had a good time together. And although we all dreaded this Christmas, as the first one without their father, we got through it, and it turned out to be much sweeter than expected, with a few tears and many bittersweet memories, and some real fun too. (We played games at the dinner table on Christmas Eve this year, with some fairly rude prizes, and laughed a lot. Irreverence and laughter was the perfect antidote to sadness, and carried the day.) And being together as a family was a real blessing.

Since then, I have been working very hard on a new book, and doing a huge amount of writing, which I usually do at this time of year.

I don’t have any important news to share with you, and am deep in my work, as I always am at this time of year. And I don’t know why, but I remembered a Christmas story tonight from a few years ago, and thought I’d share it with you. It made me laugh out loud, remembering the moment.

Shopping always relaxes me (even at a hardware store or a drug store, and I’m in heaven at a shoe store, even if I only buy a pair of sneakers. Shoes always cheer me up. And no, the story on the internet about my having 6,000 pairs of shoes is not true—-although I wish I did. But yes, I do like shoes.), in any case, I like to shop and there is a lovely store in New York where I buy really nice sheets every few years, and tablecloths. It’s an Italian store, and they have really pretty things. And usually, on Christmas, they send me a small gift, a little baby pillow for my head, with a pretty pillow case, something like that. And I always like what they send me.  And because I like to shop, sometimes stores send me a little gift for the holidays. And I am always very well behaved and save all the gifts I get until Christmas Eve, and open them then. So even if I get a gift from a store, I don’t open it until Christmas, and I save my little stack of gifts until it’s okay to open them. I don’t cheat and open them early.

A few years ago, however, I was feeling sorry for myself a week or ten days before Christmas, and my little stack of gifts from friends, people I do business with, and a few stores, was sitting in my bedroom, and I noticed a package in the distinctive wrapping of the Italian linen store in New York that sends me a pretty gift every year. And I lay there in bed, thinking, oh what the hell, who will know…..and I confess: I cheated and decided to open their gift early. It was quite a big box, which was unusual, but I thought maybe they’d been even more generous than usual. And feeling like a sneaky kid, I hopped out of bed and opened their gift about 10 days early. And WOW!!! What a gift!!! It wasn’t a pillow case; it was an absolutely fabulous cashmere (!!!!!) bed cover, in a soft oatmeal beige. I am always frozen at night, so it was really the perfect gift. I was stunned that they had sent me such a beautiful gift. There was no card, just the wrapping from the store, but I hadn’t ordered anything from them, so it was obviously my annual Christmas gift. And it happened to be a freezing cold night, and I put it on my bed and snuggled under it with delight, really pleased at the fabulous gift. Further confessions: When I was married, I was very circumspect in my bedroom, I didn’t smoke in the bedroom, didn’t sleep with my dogs (or no more than one of them, I had two then), didn’t eat in bed, so as not to offend my husband. But living alone, I have developed some really bad habits I enjoy: I smoke in my bedroom, as long as I’m wide awake, read until all hours; if I get hungry, I eat cookies in bed, or whatever else I decide to eat, and often all four of my dogs sleep on my bed, or at least one or two. If I ever live with a man again, I’ll behave, but for now I don’t have to and can do whatever I want. So as soon as I put the gorgeous cashmere cover on my bed, my dogs hopped onto it with delight, and I cuddled up under it, smoking, and even had a cup of soup, and spilled a little on the cover. I made myself right at home with my new bedspread!!!

I thoroughly enjoyed my new bedspread for the next 10 days, til Christmas, the dogs slept on it, I slept under it, I dropped a few ashes here and there, some cookie crumbs, a drop or two of soup. I made myself totally comfortable, and couldn’t imagine how I had lived without a cashmere bedspread until then. It was my largest and certainly most luxurious gift!!!  And after I’d been happily living with it for about 10 days, my oldest daughter called me, quite annoyed, and said that she had ordered a cashmere bedspread from that same store, months before, and it had never come. Had it shown up at my house instead?  Uh…ummm……bedspread??? CASHMERE bedspread?…..hmmmm….uh oh. I suddenly realized that my fabulous new gift was not a gift at all, but I’d been happily living on her new bedspread, and there had been nothing on the package to indicate that it was her order, and not a gift for me. Oh…..shit. We were of course talking about the bedspread I had been living with, smoking over, eating on, and that my dogs had come to love too. I was in deep trouble there. My oldest daughter is rabid about smoking, and won’t even be in the same building with it, does not approve of four dogs in bed, and I’m certain that she has never eaten Oreo cookies in bed (she has a husband. Everything is a trade off in life; you either get a husband in your bed, or get to eat Oreo cookies at midnight.).   I confessed immediately, told her I had thought it was a gift from the store, and that I had been living with her new bedspread for the past 10 days, and offered to have it cleaned immediately. She was horrified and not happy with me. She assured me that no amount of cleaning would exorcise the smoke, dogs, and cookies, not to mention the soup I had spilled on it (just a little) the first night. And she had waited months for it to come.  If she could have seen me happily living on her bedspread, she would have had a stroke. As it was, she wasn’t too happy. The end of the story was that she ordered another one, and I wound up buying the one I had adopted illegally. And to tell you the truth, I love it, and am still living with it, and probably will for years. But if you could have seen me living it up on her bedspread, and my face when she asked if I had seen it…..bedspread??? What bedspread??? Oh THAT bedspread…..you would have laughed too. I still laugh when I think about it. It was expensive when I had to buy it, but well worth it…..and I still chuckle when I see it, and drop a few more Oreo crumbs on it, as my dogs lie happily across the bed, and I smoke while reading a book…..to each his own, and there are more ways than one to get a new bedspread….I would never have bought such an elegant one for myself, but I’m glad I did. Now I’m more careful when I open Christmas gifts, and make sure that they are in fact for me.  I hope you liked your gifts this year too!!!

Much love, Danielle

I get so busy sometimes, talking to you about other things, holidays, children, new dogs, relationships, travel, music, art that I rarely talk to you about writing. And in reading your comments at the end of my blogs, I see that you have a number of comments and questions that I thought I’d address here.

Most of you wrote extremely kind comments about my work, which really warm my heart. I work incredibly hard on the books, I try to make them varied and different on different subjects (you noticed!!! thank you!!!), and do very, very thorough research, whether they are historical or contemporary books. And it really means a lot to me that you notice and you care. You each have a favorite book, which are also varied and different, depending on what resonates for you, and what you’re personally going through. Many of you have offered to tell me your stories so I can turn them into a book, but I never write real people’s stories. I prefer to rely on my own imagination, although I often use things I’ve learned, the feeling of experiences I’ve had (like losing my son, or great joys), and emotions I’ve experienced, even if I use them differently than they actually happened. I am fascinated by the human condition, and human relationships of all kinds, between friends, between lovers, spouses, siblings, parent and child, even co-workers. I like what happens between people, how we impact each other, good and bad, and how we respond to the stresses in our lives, whatever they are. And those experiences are universal, we have all dealt with people we care about, or difficult families, or children, or friends, or relationships, and we’ve either been hurt or blessed or helped by those experiences. I feel strongly about what I write, which I think is why you do too. And it rings real for you, because all the emotions in it are real, and some of the experiences, so it rings real for me as I write it, and for you when you read it.

One of you asked how I can do the research, with all those kids (mine) running around. Unfortunately, they’re not running around anymore. The youngest is in college, the others are in their first jobs, and only one still lives at home. And they are running around their own lives now, I’m no longer driving carpool, or taking anyone to ballet lessons, or watching lacrosse games. I wish I were. I still spend a lot of time with them all, when they have time to see me in their busy lives, but my days are my own now. I’m not having dinner with them every night as I used to, or picking them up at school. And I miss those days. When they were little, at home and in school. I worked during their school hours, then picked them all up at school, and stayed busy with them til after dinner, and after their homework was on track and underway, and then I worked/wrote at night. I didn’t sleep a lot, and still don’t. I got used to short nights, and I still work til late at night, when it’s quiet and I have fewer distractions, and the phone doesn’t ring every five minutes.  As for the actual research, which there is a lot of for every book, I have a fantastic researcher who has seen me through all 121 books, and is fabulous with both historical and contemporary research (like about locations, or an industry). She does the basic research and then passes it on to me to read, and process, and include what I need in the books. She narrows it down for me, so I can concentrate on what she gives me. I have worked with her since my first book. She is an amazing woman!!!

There is a question that none of you asked, but I’ll answer anyway. Some fans have written in the past asking who writes my books. I was stunned the first time I was asked that question. Who writes my books? Are you kidding? I do. Every word. I was shocked at the question, I even mentioned it to my agent who informed me that some very major writers actually hire writers now to write their books and the authors just give them the outlines. I can’t even imagine that, and it seems like cutting corners in a major way to me. I write every word of my books, and do all the editing and correcting. There are no gnomes or elves in my basement or attic. I do all the work myself!!!

Will I ever write a sequel? No. I’ve been asked a lot, even by my publisher. I think sequels are an invitation to disappointment. I don’t like comparisons, and would rather do something new every time. When I finish a book, that story is over for me.

One of you asked how many times my first book was turned down. It’s actually worse than that. I was turned down by my first agent, who told me to forget writing and do something else——and that agent pretended, once I got successful, that they’d never met me or told me that. But that person did, and I was heartbroken. A friend referred me to another agent, who read my book and signed me up the next day, and believed in my work. I was 19 years old then. She sold that first book very quickly, it came out in original paperback, and by the time it came out, I had already written another one. And that’s when things got tough. The next five books did not sell, ever, and never have. I still have them, and probably someone will publish them one day after I’m gone. I have moved on, and rarely look back at books, so I’ve just put those five away, for my kids to do what they want with one day. The 7th book I wrote was a novelization, that means it was actually a screenplay for a movie (that I didn’t write), and they wanted to sell a book of it when the movie came out. So I turned the screenplay into a book, and that was the book that started the ball rolling again, and I’ve been published ever since. It was a good lesson for me though, because I had 5 unpublished books, and if I had given up before the 7th one, I would never have the career I do today; it was a great lesson in persistence!!!

One funny topic that came up in emails from you was sex. Years ago, I got a letter from an 11 year old reader who complained that there wasn’t enough sex in my books!!! Wow.  No one has complained since, but certainly sex isn’t the main focus of my books. With only a couple of exceptions, there are always some sex scenes in my books, although I hope they are tastefully handled, and they have to make sense with the characters and the story. But I write about real things that happen, unfortunately people do cheat on each other, or take advantage of others. There is a rape scene in “A Good Woman”, and those things happen too. My main characters tend to be decent people (except when they are intentionally male or female villains), who do their best in life, like the rest of us. And when I write about ‘bad’ people, it’s clear that that’s what they are. But in the recent comments to the blogs, one woman complained that I write about immoral events and people, that I shouldn’t be writing about cheating, or other immoral acts, and that all the sex should be between married people. Fortunately or unfortunately, that’s not part of real life today, and as a writer I chronicle the kind of real life experiences many of us have, or that exist in the real world. So I write about a broader spectrum, and I take a stand for integrity on all subjects. And I can’t satisfy every reader, and purify a world that isn’t pure in the real world. But that one reader considered me highly immoral!!! I’m sorry about that, but the books are more meaningful if they report accurately on what happens in the world today. We may not like what some people do, but they do it nonetheless. As I said, integrity is important to me, and being tasteful. I try not to offend anyone with what I write, and it always has to make sense in the story.

Another reader who answered the blogs complained that my stories aren’t more religious. I’m actually a religious person, personally, but I don’t feel right imposing it on anyone else. That’s a very, very personal thing, and once again, my stories would be much too limited if they only centered around a religious theme. Again, it’s about integrity and values, but I don’t think it would be fair to my non-religious readers to focus on only religious themes. I try to stay away from religion and politics as a good rule of thumb, although once in a while religion may become part of the story, if I write about nuns. But I try to keep things varied and not offend anyone.

I hope that answers some of your questions, and as you read this, I’ll be starting a new book!!! Thank you for reading them, and for all your wonderful comments!!!

Love, Danielle

And then there’s New Year’s Eve, which is another one of those loaded days. You’re supposed to look fabulous, spend it with someone you love, and wind up kissing them at midnight, with a glass of champagne in your hand, while someone plays “Old Lang Syne”. Reality? All the years I was married, I spent it in a flannel nightie with warm socks, didn’t care what we did, and we were sound asleep long before midnight, and I was perfectly happy and with the person I wanted to be with. I didn’t need parties, a kiss at midnight (I could have kisses anytime), or a band. Although I think most people think they are supposed to be having FUN that night, no matter what. And single, it’s a whole other story. You HAVE to be out dancing and kissing at midnight and drinking champagne. Hmmmm……for some, that may not be quite as easy as it sounds. And just like Christmas and Valentine’s Day, I have had a wide variety of experiences on that one: since being single, some very elegant New Year’s Eve dinners in black tie, dancing with good friends. The year my caterer didn’t show up for that event at the last minute, and we went to fast food restaurants to get dinner, and my friends were all dressed up in evening gowns, eating a Big Mac, pizza, and KFC and curly fries. We decided we liked it so much, we did that for several years. And it was fun. Then, I got tired of having a New Year’s Eve date I didn’t care about, or none, and decided to play poker on New Year’s Eve instead (which I love), still in black tie. But no matter what you do, and how you slice it, that midnight hour happens, people start counting….ten…nine…eight….two….and the next thing you know everyone is kissing, and you’re staring at your feet, feeling like a loser and wishing they’d get on with it. Erghk, I hate New Year’s Eve. (And last year I lost $20.00 at poker too, adding insult to injury. AND got a stomach ache from the fast food). I don’t know what the answer is. In recent years I’ve never had the guts to just say to hell with it, and go to bed, and not do anything at all. I was afraid that would be too depressing.  But New Year’s Eve rarely lives up to anyone’s expectations, unless you drink yourself blind or are enjoying a brand new romance. So I’ll be playing poker this year, WITH fast food, NOT in black tie this time, and let’s just hope I win $20.00 this year to make it a success. One fan wrote in and said that the answer is to spend it with good friends, and I think that’s true, but it’s not an easy evening to pull off, particularly if you’re not part of a couple, and all you’re going to get at midnight is a refill from the waiter, another Big Mac, and hopefully a decent poker hand. I just don’t like New Year’s Eve, and every year I promise myself that I’ll do something different next year—I thought of going to Paris this year, or even Vegas with a friend—-or maybe I’ll just go to bed and not try at all. I think making New Year’s Eve fun is challenging for a lot of people. It is not my best night of the year, and too easy to get mournful, thinking it should be different than it is. Maybe we just need to have a sense of humor about it, and not take it so seriously. (And most of those people kissing at midnight probably won’t be speaking to each other by next year. Ha!!! It’s not even a holiday about chocolate, so what good is that?). I don’t think it’s an age thing either, since even young people I know complain that it’s often a disappointing night. Maybe we just need to lower our expectations, and enjoy whatever happens, and do something we enjoy, like poker in my case, and be with friends we like. (I haven’t had the guts to spend it totally alone, although some years I wished I had; I had such a lousy time). I think the answer is to keep it light, and not put so many expectations on it for that one night.

As for New Year’s resolutions, I never make them. I hate breaking promises, and disappointing myself or anyone else. So I don’t promise to give up smoking, gain or lose ten pounds, start a new exercise program, or swear I’ll walk the dog a mile 3 times a day, or stop all of my annoying habits (surely too many to give up!!)—or learn to use the computer properly. Whatever I do all year, I do. Whatever I decide to give up, I will (or won’t). But I refuse to make New Year’s resolutions that I will probably break in 3 weeks, or less.

So have a very happy New Year’s Eve, whatever you decide to do——and just like Christmas, remember that it’s only one night and you can get through it whatever you do, whether you spend it with good friends, or cozily in bed watching TV on your own. Happy New Year, and I hope that the coming year will be the best year ever for you, with lots of good times, good friends, and good health!!!

Love, Danielle

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

I’m not ‘technical’ by nature, and I suspect that most/many women aren’t. The group I observed was all men, not a woman among them, but what struck me first was the camaraderie among them. Rather than closed and suspicious of new arrivals, although they didn’t know either of us, they were friendly and helpful, lent my friend tools he needed, and gave him friendly advice, and were very welcoming to me as well. The group was interesting and varied. Americans, some people speaking Spanish, someone from Brazil. And most of them had several planes, and in some cases, they had a van full of many models, battery chargers, a gazillion wires, and enough tools to build a 747. And a LOT of tape to make repairs with—-crashes are frequent even among the experts.  The planes are flown by remote control, and are of varied styles and sizes. Helicopters, a ‘droid’, a lot of ‘fighter’ planes, underwing, overwing, bi planes, large and small planes, and even some jet planes. Most of them are about two feet across, in some cases three feet. There were even some artificial ‘birds’ made out of fabric, which flapped their wings. The planes seem to go about a thousand feet in the air, and sometimes swoop down low to the ground, and then sweep up again into the sky. Even knowing nothing about it, it was exciting to watch them, and fascinating to watch the delicacy and skill with which they control the planes, even my friend, who was relatively new to it, but impressively adept at it. (Definitely a boy thing!!! Although there are women pilots in the sky, and very good ones. But among this group of model plane experts, there was noticeably not a single woman on the two days that I went).

It was fascinating and a huge amount of fun watching. My friend pointed out that the hours kids spend on video games gives them a head start on learning how to maneuver the planes. But the group I saw flying was of varied age, and not particularly young. I’d say they ranged from their thirties to their sixties, they weren’t kids, they were serious men. And many of them set up tables to tend to their injured planes or charge their batteries. And all seemed to be extremely dedicated and very knowledgeable. They were meeting in a large field where there was plenty of room for everyone to fly their planes. And in the spirit of camaraderie I mentioned, everyone took pleasure in the others’ victories with a skilled maneuver, and sympathized with a rough landing, or worse. There was a total atmosphere of friendliness and enjoyment, no sense of competition or envy of someone else’s plane, everyone was just having a great time, enjoying chatting with others with the same passion, and sharing information. It was exciting and fun to watch. And it was a pleasure to be part of it, even as an observer. The hours flew by as I watched the planes take off and land, and the intricate maneuvers in between. It really was terrific!!!

It actually surprised me that there were no women doing it, or even watching it. It looks like so much fun. I was the only woman there, even as an observer. I didn’t have the feeling that I’d be good at it, and wasn’t tempted to try. But I had a ton of fun being part of the relaxed, friendly atmosphere, and seeing people have so much fun. And my friend turns out to be a natural pilot, with a lot of skill, and did very well. He held his own among the experts, and did a great job flying his plane. People always tease about men and their ‘toys’, and that they stay boys forever. But after spending two wonderful afternoons, sitting in the sun, and watching the model planes, I’d say they have the right idea. What a great way to have fun, out in the air, meeting people, and testing one’s skill. I have a feeling that it’s even harder than it looks, a lot harder than it looks!!! You need a good eye and good hands, and have to make some fast saves to keep your plane from crashing. But even when they do, they repair the damage with tape and glue, and replace propellers, and in no time, the planes are back in the air again, battle scarred but still efficient.   I had a wonderful time, seeing something so new to me. It was great!!!!!

Love, Danielle

If you’ve read my blog before, you know that my family and I are dog lovers. We have a motley assortment of breeds, two of my daughters have teacup Chihuahuas (that’s the smallest size), we’ve had a flock of miniature Dachshunds over the years (really wonderful dogs!!! But they are barky, and I have a hard time with dogs that bark a lot. I like sleepy breeds, so they don’t drive me crazy while I write). One of my sons has always had Boston Bulldog Terriers, who have always been the sweetest natured dogs in our family, two of my other sons have had Jack Russells, one has a Black Lab (the only big dog in the group), another daughter has a Yorkshire Terrier (that looks like a little Teddy Bear), and my oldest daughter and I have miniature Brussels Griffons (who look like Ewoks). Brussels Griffs really work for me because they are a peaceful, sleepy breed, and they’re happy to snore loudly in my office while I work. I had a Maltese once that didn’t work out for me because she was turbo charged and jet propelled and l0 hours later on any given day, she was still happily chewing through the wires of my phone or destroying the room. We had terrible luck with a French Bulldog who killed one of our other dogs, which was awful. And we had an English Bulldog for a short time once, who was too aggressive with our older dogs and didn’t work out either. I’m now into my second generation of Brussells Griffons, so I really do love them. I grew up with Pugs, whom I love too (but aren’t as easy as the Brussels Griffs, and are generally bigger than the Griffs). So that gives you an idea of just how doggy we are!!! Very!!

And as you know, I also go back and forth between San Francisco, New York, and Paris. My dogs live in San Francisco, and unfortunately all of my Brussells Griffons are just over the weight limit for international flights, so if I took them with me, they’d have to travel in cargo, and not in the cabin, and I just won’t do that to them. And for the past several months, I have really been missing having a dog with me in Paris. I started sneaking into pet shops, and looking longingly at the puppies there. I’ve been looking at the really tiny breeds that could travel with me easily in a travel bag, like Yorkies, and Chihuahuas and just haven’t seen any I liked. I looked at some Dachshunds, but they looked like they might get too big too. And I also discovered that the popular dogs now are ‘combination’ what they call ‘Designer Dogs’, which used to be called ‘Mutts’, and have suddenly become ‘chic’. Cockapoos, Lahsapoos, Puggles, and a whole bunch of ridiculous sounding names (and sometimes looks, although most are really cute) combining Pugs with Beagles, Cocker Spaniels and Poodles, Lahsas and Poodles, ‘Morkies” which are Maltese and Yorkies. Some of them are really cute, but they’re a bit of a mystery, since you don’t know which breed will win out, and how big they will get. And Air France is strict about their 12 pound weight limit for dogs in the cabin. I even looked at a really unusual breed that I recently wrote about in a book: a Hairless Chinese Crested, which have to be one of the funniest looking dogs I’ve ever seen. Their body is completely hairless, and dappled with spots that look like polka, and on their head and tail they have a pouf of blonde hair that looks like a wig, and they look a bit like a slightly larger Chihuahua. They are really funny looking and very rare dogs.  I also looked at some smaller Japanese breeds, but they looked like they might get too big too.  So I’ve been secretly wanting a dog to travel with me, but I didn’t want to just get a ‘dog’, I wanted to fall in love with a dog, and was convinced I’d know “The One” when I saw it. Kind of like romance. So my pet shop and breeder visits have been fruitless until now, and I figured it was kind of a silly idea anyway, since I have dogs in San Francisco, but I’m in Paris much or even most of the time now, and am really missing having a dog.

On my last trip to New York, I visited (again) a place where I have gotten many dogs over the years, for my kids, and for myself. Two of my most beloved Griffs are from there, as well as many of my kids’ dogs. So I took a peek, and have dropped by there every month since this summer. And once again, nothing. Some cute Yorkies. A ‘Morkie”, a couple of very barky toy poodles, some really adorable Dachshunds who looked like they’d get too big, Pugs (which would get to be 20 pounds), a couple of beautiful King Charles Spaniels (also too big). And no one grabbed my heart. I was about to leave the pet store last week, when one of the salesmen took me aside and asked me to wait a minute. I know that they frequently keep special or very young dogs in the back. The salesman disappeared and returned a few minutes later, with what looked like a  white mouse, with a tiny face, big brown eyes, and giant ‘Yoda” (from Star Wars) ears, and plopped her in my hands. I have very small hands (since I’m a small woman), and she filled the palm of my hands. She was/is a pure white long haired tea cup Chihuahua. I never saw myself as a Chihuahua person, but Bingo!!! I fell in love!!! She was the sweetest tiniest thing I have ever seen. Tiny, tiny, tiny. She is ten weeks old, and weighs 1.1 pounds, and is likely to weigh 3 pounds full grown. (No problem in the cabin on Air France!!). And I have never seen anything so cute!!! She has tiny little pink paws that she wrapped around my neck and snuggled. How could I resist??? I couldn’t. She was too young and too small to take home with me, so I left her there, bought her on the spot, and she will come home in 2 weeks. It turns out that she won’t be able to go back to France with me this time, as she needs more shots, a special chip, and the French are very strict. (And I will confess that I am having nightmares, worrying that she is so tiny that she’ll get hurt. I imagine she’ll spend a lot of time in my lap.) So I’ve been on a frenzy of buying pink blankets, a tiny pink collar and pink leash, and a cozy little pink bed for when she comes home.

We had fun naming her. I immediately thought of Angel, as she looked a bit like one, Snow White or Blanche Neige in French…..and we decided on Minnie Mouse, because she’s so tiny and it suits her, and she looks like a mouse. Despite her tiny size, from my experience with my two daughters’ Chihuahuas, they seem to be a pretty hardy breed. They’re peppy and spunky as adults, good natured and sweet. And she certainly fits my requirement for a small dog to travel with. So here we are, with a new puppy…..Minnie Mouse!!!….and you really can’t expect a woman with 9 children to be sensible about dogs. So I had to tell you about Minnie Mouse. She is tooooooo cute for words!!!

Love, Danielle