Less than two weeks till Christmas. I’m just about there. How about you? I only put up my small tree this year – in the room we call the library. The big one just seemed like too much work. I decorated the rest of the house instead.

I’ve been living in my craft room for the past few weeks finishing up Christmas gifts for friends. Those are looking great! I told my adult kids — no sweets this year, but I know I will give in. In fact, I ordered some new cookie cutters just the other day. I’ll be making pumpkin bars and what we call puppy chow for their friends. But I made a promise to myself — every bite leaves this house.

My front yard looks festive with my new blow up Christmas Olaf, the snowman from Frozen. I couldn’t find one last year. They sold out so early. So in October, I found him on Amazon.

Gifts are purchased, and yesterday I wrapped most of them. So I’m on top of things this year. I’m going to church each week which is not a permanent pattern for me, I’m afraid. But it helps especially after all the hatred in every aspect of our world. It’s nice to find some words of peace.

The highlight of this past week was not Christmas related though. My second book went on Amazon. I used a pseudonym this time and kept it a fairly simple love story that takes place in Oxford, England. I hope readers enjoy a walk through Oxfordshire with me. Pricing is quite low this time, just to see if I can get some readership going.

The House on 4th Street continues to sell – slow and steady – mostly slow… But two books under my belt at my age is an accomplishment I give myself permission to enjoy with pride.

Watch for small pleasures this week; give instead of receiving; pass a free meal along to someone behind you in line at the fast food restaurant; wait patiently while someone older or slower crosses your path; smile at the next five people you encounter. And pray. Pray for peace in the world.

This was written just after the Sandy Hook massacre, three years before the recent event in San Bernardino, CA. NPR reports that there have been 355 massacres this year in the U.S. (massacres defined as 4 or more people.) 462 people killed. 1314 injured.

And yet we continue to watch it play out on t.v. Some will say that the press plays a part. Deranged people looking for publicity to acknowledge their senseless acts. Perhaps. Some say gun control. There are statistics that refute that.

We have thousands of brilliant researchers who could perhaps lead us to a solution in this country. But is anyone listening? Are the politicians listening? They call for more guns in the hands of citizens. They call for mental health care and provide no money to achieve it. They say watch your neighbors and people on the street, but we so often hide inside our walled yards, never look up from our cell phone screens, never walk down the street to meet a new neighbor.

There has to be a solution to senseless violence in a civilized country. And yet, the blog below was written in 2012 and it is 2015 and we have lost 462 lives. I’m feeling very discouraged that we simply don’t really care — deep down where it counts — maybe we don’t care. The first line of this 2012 blog asks a question. The answer it seems is a resounding “no.”

Today I am drinking coffee from my Paris mug while remembering clearly all the streets I walked along in August. It was my 4th trip to Paris and I felt the changes. Homeless sleeping in tents along the Seine, a police presence everywhere, even in my residential neighborhood. Beggars outside the McDonald’s just up the street. A change of population, of ethnicity, of economics, of politics.

It didn’t change the beauty of Paris. The Parisian light is the same as when Degas painted in Montmarte. The bridges along the Seine, the night glimmer from the Eiffel, the fun loving city dwellers dancing, walking hand in hand, and picnicking by the water every Friday and Saturday night — all of that was unchanged.

I was never along the streets that were attacked on Friday. But nothing is very far in the condensed city. I wasn’t far when I sat at a cafe after visiting the Picasso Musee. I wasn’t far when I walked the Pere-Lachaise Cemeterie . I wasn’t far when I hiked around the lake at Parks de Buttes-Chaumont or had lunch beside the Bastille.

Nothing is far in Paris. You can walk anywhere in an hour unless you go to the suburbs.
And so … I feel that I was there. That I stood close to the people who died last night in Paris. My heart breaks for the families and friends who lost loved ones.

My friend and the woman from whom I rent the Paris apartment was in Normandie. I heard from her this morning. She is safe but afraid — particularly afraid that she may have lost students in the night club and the bar and the restaurant and the soccer game. I pay that she did not.

I’ve had a few emails saying “glad you are not there”, and yet … for some strange reason, I wish I were. I’ve grown to love Paris after so many visits. No matter how often you go, you can’t see it all unless you live there. But I’ve seen a lot. I can visualize myself walking in the Jardin des Plantes. I can see myself on Blvd. St. Michel shopping. I can close my eyes and hear the water splashing from the fountain in the Tuilleries gardens. I can taste the cafe au lait at Deaux Magot.

I will drink my coffee from my Paris mug and will eat a croissant in honor of the City of Light and pray for the people and for our governments who have difficult decisions to make in the days ahead.

Just back from Oklahoma!

It was so much fun seeing my novel on the shelf in two Oklahoma bookstores last week.
Best of Books in Edmond, OK and Hasting’s Books in Enid.
I autographed the few they had left and met both managers. Didn’t realize how good that would feel!