Inadvertently Awesome

Today's title comes from David-the-barista, the picture from Second Life. My original intent was to use my own photos for the post pictures this week, possibly as prompts, but that would require a camera.

Several years ago, DH surprised me on Christmas morning with a digital camera. This Christmas, our first in our new home, on a gorgeously snowy white Christmas morning, I took same camera out to get some pictures while waiting for everyone to get up (I'm the early riser in our family.) Since I love the cold, love the snow, love exploring our neighborhood, this was like a special present to myself. On with the leopard print rubber boots, on with scarf and gloves and coat and off I go.

I had the route in mind immediately. Leave house, head toward park. Since it's early and a major holiday, I'm reasonably well assured that I can get some shots of the virgin snow, especially in the park, especially park benches (I have a thing for empty park benches.) Since the best way to get to the park is along a gorgeous historic street lined with turn of the century buildings, many of them bedecked with holiday decor, I could not have asked for a better picture taking opportunity. Snow covered wrought iron. Snow covered stone steps. Snow covered bare branches on trees reaching up to the blue-grey sky that implied it wasn't yet done with the white stuff. I happily snapped pictures until the guilt over neglecting family told me it was time to turn back.

Which was exactly when the camera started acting funny. I'd snapped a few different shots of the historic promenade in the park (built in 1803, originally for military drills and parades, later the spot to see and be seen) as well as benches, sky, plaques on and doorways of buildings with historic ties as well, and then...the drag began. Something was...different...about how long it took the camera to tell me it was done doing whatever it is cameras do for that shot. I begged it. One more for mommy, okay? We're going home, really. Then you can take pictures of family members opening presents wrapped in brown paper with colored ribbons, all nice and inside and...nothing.

"Nothing doing," the camera seemed to be saying to me. "No more pictures for the crazy writer person who takes me out in the cold when all the other cameras are inside, watching adorable tots tear into the latest in hand-knitted sweaters and pink plastic minivans outfitted with laser cannons." I took it home, cradled in the warmth of my coat, telling myself it was probably the batteries. I'd try new ones.

I tried new ones. I tried newer ones. I let Housemate Linda have a look at it in case she might see some error I'd made and set things aright. Once more, nothing doing. Camera now sits on a bookshelf in my office, next to yet another set of batteries. I am surprisingly okay with this.

It's not a disaster. Either the camera can be repaired, or it cannot. In either event, the memory card is in there, and I can stick it into my printer (once that's up and running) and all those pictures will still be there. I can still have them, even if not right now. They're safe. They're waiting. They're still mine. Maybe I'll open them on a hot day in July and have myself Christmas morning all over again.

The inadvertantly awesome part? When I sat down to write this entry, I had no idea what I was going to say, and lookee here - I wrote a story. It has a protagonist (moi) and a beginning (plan to take pictures) and a middle (the picture.) and an end (camera on the shelf, dead-at-least-for-now.) It has a black moment (dead camera!) and a resolution (will try memory card in something else.) Some dialogue, and I'd have to call it extremely rough, but gussy it up some and there could be something.

What mundane experience of yours do you think could inadvertantly turn into the seeds of an awesome story?

Happy New Year Ramblings, part the first

Happy 2012, faithful readers. The end of one year and the start of a new one always provide good excuse to ramble, and so I will. I still have a while before I need to make myself presentable for the traditional New Year's Day open house and book swap held by some friends. Not the most romance friendly environment, but the company is good, their dog is fun and I get to scarf free noms while meeting interesting people. Plus I've been to two UBSes and B&N this week, so I thnk I'm good for a while. More on that later, as the clock is ticking.

I think our Christmas decorations are trying to tell us something. A few years back, DH and I acquired a much-beloved lighted wreath, and shortly after that, a Christmas tree made of red tinsel, like so:

These two items have been mainstays of our Christmas decorating scheme, centered around the bedroom bookcase, since our apartment is what can best be termed "cozy." This year, they both went dark. I should also mention that the blinds have been replaced (the tear not being my fault, for those who keep track of these things) and same with the lamp, in favor of a nifty vintage 50s treasure. DH and I do have replacement bulbs and we are willing to do the work required to find the culprits in case our decorations are of the "if one goes down, they all go down" persuasion, which they well may be.

Due to a serious conversation we had at another of our holiday gatherings, the red tree will have to be saved, since when we are in a bigger place, we need to have a small tree in every window. We are willing to take heroic measures to save the wreath, as A) it was given to a dear friend by my dad on one of his final Christmases, B) said friend thinks it's one of the ugliest things she's ever seen, and C) DH and I recognize its inherent perfection. Our hearts will not break if the red tree can't be brought back to life; last night, I wound a spare string of clear lights around it and on with the show. That will do for now, and with the dying of the light (sorry, couldn't resist) coinciding with the January sales on all things Christmassy, this is the perfect time for me to snag a new mini tree, free of guilt.

The question then is, what kind of tree? I've seen black trees -though sadly, the last time I remember seeing one in the flesh as it were, was at dearly departed Borders- and would love to do a forest of different colored trees, but I'm getting the urge for a traditional green one as well. At lunch with writing friends, I nearly got as excited about a wayward evergreen snippet that had found its way into my gift bag as I did the gift itself. Driving around to peep at strangers' light displays always tears me in two directions; the classy all-white lights and the cacophany of colored ones. I have come to the conclusion I may eventually need two houses so I can indulge in both, but I'll need to sell a few (million?) more books first.

Though I recieved no new books at Christmas, many did come home, both novels and research tomes, over Christmas Week, and it's entirely possible more will come home today. Actually, it's a slam dunk that there will be at least one, as our hostess is extremely vigilant in that regard; all guests must leave with at least one book. Not sure at the moment what I'll be bringing to the swap (apologies to the one gal who has said she waits to see what I'll be bringing, as I don't know if I'll be hauling anything romancey in that direction, but will try) but I'm not going to sweat it. I have what I have and I'm donating what I'm donating and that's going to have to do.

All of this is a roundabout way of saying that this year is going to be the getting back to my roots/core/authentic self year, writing and otherwise. A few days ago, I sent off a paper letter to a writer friend, for the pure reason that it felt good to do so. Pretty pages are a good place to let my brain droppings spill, twirling around each other and combining into something I might not have expected when I first opened the file or put pen to paper. I do know that I owe some friends some long-promised mail art, and thanks for the patience; mail art is getting scheduled into my days, and since the most gorgeous day planner in the history of history is soon to arrive in my mailbox, sticking to my schedule is going to be a lot easier this year.

Well. No surprise here, I've taken the scenic route and time has not stopped, so I will leave this here for now and be back in the AM with part the second, wherein I ramble about reading, writing and other creative matters.

My Favorite Time of Year and Other Ramblings

This is my favorite time of year, this tucked away week between Christmas and New Year's. Maybe it's a leftover from school vacations, but I'm more inclined to think it's part of my hardwired programming, one of those things that is me, always was, always will be. Best not to fight those things, as it's a losing battle; embrace them instead and steer into the skid, as it were.

Things like how I've always known historical romance is the genre of my heart, my artistic tastes lean strongly toward maximalism and the correct answer to "how many blank books does Anna really need?" being "all of them." Of course, none of those books stay blank for very long once I know what they're for - see above mentions of writing and art.

This year's tucked-away week has no less than three gatherings of friends for the sole purpose of celebration. Four, if I can count yesterday's write-in, which I will, and two of those will involve books to some degree. Tomorrow is a gathering of the clans, as my friend, Mary, and I call the mushing together of our two families en masse, and since everybody is a reader, there will be at least one bookstore involved. Also much discussion of books. On Friday, I meet with my longterm critique partners, Melva and Michele (I really do have friends whose names begin with letters other than M, I promise) for our annual holiday feast, and then will see them again on Sunday for Michele and her hubby's annual open house and book swap. Okay, that's three gatherings that will be book related. These gatherings will also involve nonwriters, but those nonwriters are readers, so it balances out.

In an ideal world, I would spend the tucked away week in a big house, decorated inside and out, open to friends and family. Dress of the day would alternate between elegant glitz and flannel pajamas - let's say pjs until noon, regular clothes for lunch (as this might involve leaving the house, especially if there is snow to walk and play in) and then treat dinner as a red carpet event. Suits for the gents, gowns for the gals, and everybody is encouraged to accessorize as they please. I maintain a version of this in my head, alongside the real life events; call it my own alternate universe. So far, it's working.

Mornings would begin with pancake breakfasts, everyone in pajamas and robes and then mornings may be spent in repose, lain out on couches, recliners, comfy chairs and convenient patches of floor as desired. Conversation and books abound, and the four-legged members of our party would have free run of the place. This part, I've found, is the most portable - it can come from its universe into the tangible one at any time. Okay, holidays and weekends, because I do need to be gently turned about and pointed back toward the computer at some point.

Which is perfectly fine - once the well is filled, there needs to be output to balance the input. Fof this week, I'll revel in the company, gobble a few good books, as I am most assuredly in a reading mood, but more on that later, and then it's time for a firm but gentle hand to point me back to the keyboard and let me ramble.

What about you? What are you taking away from this tucked away week? Do you have a different favorite week of the year?

Happy Holidays (dancing and otherwise)

It's that time of year again. Over here, that means last minute push to finish making gifts, one more store run for stocking stuffers, hashing out the schedule for The Day, which is subject to change until hm...about 12:01 on Dec. 26th.

Memories of Christmases past, with family members who are elsewhere or no longer with us, linger. Earlier today, I had to put away a packet of photos that started out with DH's now-traditional portraits of our stuffed animals because -kapow- the next one was the first from the roll we shot at what was my Dad's last Christmas. A few years back but yet too soon, so those go aside for a while. Emails and cards from friends bring the intimate warmth of being together even if there are miles between us, and I've had the great joy of putting up or helping to put up three trees this season. Two in friends' homes, one in my own. One traditional pine with heirloom ornaments with sentimental meanings, one silver fiber optic with brightly colored ornaments that all came together, and one mini tree made of red tinsel, self-lit and adorned with tiny red, gold and green balls as well as one giant red one emblazoned with the logo of DH's place of employment.

Holiday music gets frequent play over here: Neil Diamond's cover of Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song; Coldplay's Christmas Lights, which put me in mind of a favorite blog that has not been updated for some time now -I wish the blogger well- and the Pogues' Fairytale of New York, which is a new discovery for me. Stephen Curtis Chapman's "O Come O Come, Emmanuel", the only version I've ever heard where the singer actually sounds like he wants Emmanuel to arrive; since I'm Christian myself, this is kind of a biggie.

Movies are Love Actually, About a Boy and The Holiday. I've already read Coming Home for Christmas by Carla Kelly, and Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney, and if I were able to hunt down some of the older Shillouette historical Christmas anthologies, I'd be up for a gorge on those, but if not, my TBR shelves overflow and there are untapped treasures on my ereader. I have yet to view Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol (or any version of Mr. Dickens' masterpiece, for that matter) this year, but there's time for that. We count the twelve days of Christmas in our family starting on the 25th, not ending on it, and the week between Christmas and New Year's is my favorite week out of the entire year, that tucked away time.

Since I'm not sure when I'll have computer time over the holiday itself -power cord on the laptop blew; I'm borrowing a friend's, and a new one is on the way (thanks, Kara!)this will stand as the "official" weekend post. It's all too easy for me to blabber, especially about my favorite holiday - some sad, some happy, some silly, some holy, old friends and new favorites, the ghosts of Christmases past, present and future all welcome guests- but the only appropriate happy dance for today is obvious:


Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate.

Snow Day!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Yeah, that's pretty much me. I love the white stuff, so when it started yesterday (happy Boxing Day to me!) I was very happy to see it. White Boxing Day still counts as White Christmas in my book, as this week between Christmas and New Year's is my favorite week of the entire year, all tucked away between two holidays.

Maybe it's a leftover from school vacations and maybe it's a leftover from family Christmases where lolling about with relatives and leftovers, cavorting in the frozen outdoors until it's time to gear up for New Year's Eve. Maybe I'm still running on peppermint starlights and twinkly lights (guilty) and fumes from reading a book from my special shelf. That's where I keep highly anticipated books for when I've been really really good or am feeling really really bad. These can be treats or therapy. Sometimes both.

Holiday stress drove me to this shelf on the 23rd, and I selected Silk and Shadow by Aola Vandergriff. I had a hunch that our usual Monday Morning write-in at Panera would be taking a snow day, but still planned on going on my own...though being no dummy, I did put my commute on delay. I spent an hour curled on the couch, under the beyond gorgeous afghan my friend Linda made for DH and me for Christmas, and time zoomed by as I turned pages, caught in a complex web of intrigue, emotion, romance and family dysfunction in early 19th century Louisiana. I haven't read a single thing by Ms. Vandergriff that I haven't loved, though her books are long out of print; this one has a 1981 publication date.

I determined to stay under the afghan until I finished and consider that time extremely well spent, but it does bring me back to "okay, what do I read now?" Some books are a hard act to follow. We are in that tucked away week, though, so I think the afghan and I will have ample opportunity to figure something out, and there is a whole new year's worth of reading to plan. I'm hoping to work out a system so I have a good mix of new and classic romances in rotation.

What do you do during this tucked away week? Any reading goals for 2011?

Merry Christmas!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Christmas trumps both Happy Dance Friday and Saturday at the Movies, which will be back after the holidays. Not everybody in my family shares my mania for only the best day of the entire year, but that's to be expected.



Though our family will be doing the opening of presents in the afternoon (comes with the territory as DH is in the hospitality industry and therefore needing a long winter's nap)my friend Linda got me Love Actually on pay per view for the day, so of course I am indulging in a loop of that until my real life hero wakes.



Moment of augh when I noticed that my gift for Linda's mum was still in the refrigerator so will need to deliver that later in the day. When the man does arise, it's presents, then ordering Chinese food to be delivered. There has been mention of board games, and the handing off of Linda's mum's present for Linda to deliver. That's how we celebrate at our house. How about you?

Saturday at the Movies #27 - Naughty or Nice?

Though the way life is going, I'm not likely to be able to get to the theatre this week, two movies have caught my interest.

There's Cher, Christina Aguilera and Julianne Hough in Burlesque



and then Disney's Tangled, a Rapunzel retelling, apparently with more of an eye than usual to the male viewership:



Which strikes your fancy more, naughty or nice?

Happy Dance Friday #30 - It's Beginning to Look a Not Like Christmas

At least around here, it is. No snow yet to speak of, and due to the Cold That Would Not Die (but since has, huzzah) decoration at Stately Bowling Manor has consisted entirely of hanging our lighted wreath (in the bathroom this year, but that's another story) and putting the tree-made-out-of-ornaments on the table in the kitchen. No lights yet, have watched no Christmas movies or TV, have read but one Christmassy romance and it didn't work for me, alas. No candy canes have yet crossed our threshold nor a single drop of eggnog. I am disgustingly far behind on the making of presents and aside from getting all my Christmas themed paper arts stuff in one location, have done nothing in that venue either. Plus grumping that Moonlight never got to have a Christmas episode.

No, this is not a whinge, and I am going to get spiritual for a paragraph, so if that's not your thing, hop down to the videos. Christmas for our family is about remembering and celebrating the birth of Christ, and we can do that no matter what is or isn't on the ground, walls, tree, etc. Nobody and nothing can squash that, but dagnabit, I want all the sparkly, shiny, insanely bouncing about on a sugar rush under a glittery tree stuff as well.

All of which means we are long overdue for Christmassy happy dancing. Normally by this time of year, I'm bouncing around like Olivia Olsen in this clip from Love Actually. Embedding disabled by request, so click here to watch or listen below and do your own cavorting:

This next one might be a good candidate for a Christmas waltz of the slightly melancholy variety, but I flailed like an overexcited Kermit when I found that Coldplay had a Christmas song. Let me repeat. Coldplay has a Christmas song.

Back to Love Actually (come on, we know I'm going to have this movie on a loop for the next week) "Christmas is All Around." Oh Billy Mack, how I wish you were real. Yes, it's horrid, and yes, we love it. Long form of the video here (costumes may be NSFW) and listen here:

Okay, all better now. Everybody grab some tinsel and join in:

What never fails to put you in the holiday spirit, whatever your holiday may be?

Happy Dance Friday #28 - Elf Yourself!

Since it's now officially time to start the Christmas season, what better way than an elf flash mob?

Do we need a tox screen on the eggnog at the staff party for House?

Whatever was in that eggnog seems to have made it over to the Law and Order bunch as well

Who's next? Maybe you!

http://www.elfyourself.com/?gclid=COqx2rnA0KUCFQjd4AodOgxUkQ

For all who celebrate the festival of lights, the happiest of Hannukahs!

Saturday at the Movies #26 - to be seen for the season

With the advent of Thanksgiving comes my busy season for making Christmas presents. Most of which will be done while getting a chance to see many of the movies and DVDs that have been lingering in my to be viewed list. Some seasonal clasics for me, like About A Boy, Love Actually and Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, go without saying, as those are givens. Still, there's room on my list for some new entries.

Reader Aamba reminded me of an Emma Thompson movie I've missed, which looks completly delightful. Stranger Than Fiction has Emma Thompson as a writer whose main character, played by Will Ferrell, has a life of his own and creative differences with his author.

Hm, on second thought, I might have to class this under horror, as I shudder to think what my characters would have to say to me. Eep.

Since Nick Hornby wrote one of my all time favorite comedies, About A Boy, I was delighted to find that there is indeed a British version of Fever Pitch, adapted from his memoir about football obsession. I am aware of the Drew Barrymore/Jimmy Fallon US version but will pass on that one (sorry, Drew. A) Anglophile here, B) Yankee fan on principle and C) Colin Firth) and devote my energies to hunting down this.


Notes On a Scandal has all the ingredients for an Anna-pleaser. Bill Nighy, Dame Judi Dench, and Cate Blanchett all look like they'll provide powerhouse performances. Plus English school setting, twisted unequal relationships and tons of emotion. Yep, odds are good that I'll have been watching this while lovingly crafting gifts for friends and family.


Though I normally don't go for remakes, I've seen the second half of the Jude Law version of Alfie twice now, and that worked very well for me, so now I'm interested in seeing the whole thing. Michael Caine version someday but I'd like Jude's version for Christmas. I am a complete and total sucker for Englishman in New York movies.


Full disclosure: The book was a big DNF for me, and my sister actually phoned me to apologize for sending it, so I did not have high hopes for Bridget Jones' Diary as a movie. Still, after stumbling across it in bits and pieces at times when I was desperately starved for British comedies, I'm deciding to give it one more chance from start to end. The book may not have worked for me and Renee Zellwegger isn't a favorite, but the film does have Hugh Grant and Colin Firth and Christmas, so it goes on the list.


What movies are seasonal favorites in your house? Anything I might want to add to my to be viewed list? Suggestions welcomed with sugar cookies and eggnog hot chocolate.

Currently listening to Sting's new CD, If On A Winter's Night... and my brain, perhaps aided by the cover art, is drawn like a magnet to the woods behind the house where I lived until I was nine. Maybe it's the image of a man and a dog walking in the snowy woods that does it. Maybe it's that, like Sting, I count winter as my favorite season. An unpopular choice, it seems, but there's something beautiful and special about winter and it pains me when someone feels they have to smash that flat.

If I could go back there, and have it still be mine/my family's, I would build a fire in the family room hearth and throw pinecones into the flames, drink hot chocolate and alternate between staring at the flames and staring at the snow falling outside. In the morning, there would be deer tracks and bunny sproings (our family's word for rabbit tracks) and the dogs would want to go romp. I am a snow bunny, unable where I currently live, to indulge in my leanings. Not skating (weak ankles) or skiing (seriously, stand on waxed boards with the goal of sliding down the mountain as fast as possible? No.) but sleds are love, and if I could get my mitts on a snow saucer, there's hours of fun right there. I have even been known, in my misspent single-digit youth, to use a heavy duty garbage bag for this purpose.

From the first time I saw the cover art of this CD in Starbuck's, the image arrested me and seeing the words "Sting" and "winter" in the same sentence, it became a need. Add in that it's largely composed of traditional music of the British Isles, and all I can say is, "mummy's home!" Absolutely gorgeous, and I've had it playing for much of the day.The photos of Sting and company on the booklet inside are gorgeous, too, and make me want to slip into the frame and join them. As I saw So You Think You Can Dance last night, I also renew my wish to be a twentysomething professional dancer, so smush both urges together and I'm right at home working on my current time travel ms.

The two songs that stick with me the most are "The Hounds of Winter" -not new-new but it fits with the rest of the album- and "You Only Cross My Mind In Winter," which could have been designed specifically to make me squee. It's got angst, it's got winter, it's win-win. Sting describes both songs as "ghost stories." I don't do ghosts, but I can do gothic and will get a goofy faraway look if someone mentions Wuthering Heights. I've been listening to these over and over and either they will provide the undefinable something I need for this part of the current ms or they will settle into part of an idea that's in its early stages. (No ghosts there either, but I always have angst.)

This coincides with the stack of Christmas and wintry romances that I have as a special seasonal TBR pile, forbidden until December first, and then time to dive in whole hog. I fully admit that I will be running on candy canes and (nonalcoholic) eggnog for the season. The Christmas monster has been awakened. She has a computer and is not afraid to use it.

This week is my favorite week out of the entire year; those seven days tucked snugly between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Past, present and future seem all a bit closer together than usual, and time in general seems to move a little slower. Christmas treats like candy canes and egg nog flavored anything also have the added indulgence of being termed leftovers, though they are considered still current in our family as we extend Christmas as much as we can to the full twelve days. (Starting, not ending, on the 25th.)

We had a quiet, peaceful family Christmas this year, sticking close to home, keeping the traditional Christmas dinner at a local Chinese restaurant (nothing to do with any movies – this came about when one family member forgot to get groceries on Christmas eve many years ago, and we did a frantic flip through the phone book to find a restaurant open on Christmas Day.) My real life romantic hero earned major points by presenting me with a digital camera, and though I swore up and down I would only make a mini Christmas album this year, I’m getting a full sized one together because of the vast array of Chirstmassy stuff that seems to find me. There’s a time when even the most organized of us has to throw her hands in the air and go with the flow.

Which is a useful thing in writing romance. I am a plotter. I am a big plotter. I have been asked to teach a class on my extremely detailed outlines and am in the process of planning such. I have been drafted as keeper of the family calendar, and the hubster and I are relying on planning and organization to get us through the final stages of clearing out my dad’s house so we can get that on the market. Phew. I get misty eyed in the planner section of department stores and my ears perk at the mention of Franklin Covey. I love lists, planners, organizers, color codes, tabs, files, etc and 2009 is the year we end clutter in our family. (pause to climb off color coded soapbox)

Even so, I’m intuitive. I’m known to go through entire half drafts (abovementioned extremely detailed outline) with a hero named Hero and likely secondary characters named That Guy, Tall Chick and Upstairs Maid because they haven’t told me their names yet. They might even live in that place called Way Off Over There, because…again, none of those people who live in my head have told me where they are. This does not dissuade me. The combination of planning and intuition may seem odd at first, but for me, it’s natural and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This week also transitions into the new year, and resolutions, new starts, and my vow to scream and kick wastebaskets (as Diana Gabaldon puts it) to keep my writing time sacred. For today, though, there’s a Psych marathon on TV and I need to change my toenail polish.

In one and a half hours, I will be sitting across a table from my critique group, and they will ask me if I blogged. I do not want to tell them "no," because these are smart, loving women who can seriously hurt me if I fall short (but I love you gals, really I do) and they know blogging is good for me, so here I am. Plus I get a chance to use one of my icons if I do.

Real life still pit bull, me still pork chop a good deal of the time, but through it all, life does go on. Christmas preparations are full steam ahead here, as we do a lot of homemade gifts (hey, when you have artists and knitters in the family this is a very good thing) and the wheels of probatey things move slowly, but they do move. In short, life goes on, and so does blogging. I'm a talker by nature (gee, what a surprise) so it's not normal to be quiet, even in cyberspace.

Writing goes well; I'm looking (finally!) at the second half of the second draft of Endless Summer, and I'm excited to get Angus and Summer into their HEA at very long last. There should soon be more content from me at Purplepens, with an article and reviews in the work. Including some rather optimistic pontificating about the state of the historical romance in the near future (and not just mine, but I do have a new e-book coming out in March, so that fits, too.)

In short, there is lots to say, so the fear of my critique partners is not the only reason to resume this blog. A valid one, but not the only one.

Christmas Romances

Those who know me well know I am a fool for Christmas. I insist on putting up the first decorations immediately after Thanksgiving dinner is over, and one less holiday minded friend insists I put up her tree because it's fun to watch me get that into it. All this, I admit freely. I also admit that I can be a very cranky kitty when a reading slump hits. When the two collide, and they do, I can stomp about and fume about needing a good book now, but other times, happily, there are other cures.

One night last week, I found myself awake at an unacceptable hour and chanced upon a copy of the A Stockingful of Joy anthology. Faster than a stray spark can ignite a carpet, my Christmas romance monster awoke. Must. Have. More. Next, the all-Mary Balogh Under the Mistletoe anthology, and Harlequin Historicals' Christmas Wedding Belles (Christmas stories themed around the high seas? Be still my heart.) by Nicola Cornick, Margaret McPhee and Miranda Jarrett (oh how I would love, love, love more colonials by her. Please? One more Sparhawk? Surely there has to be at least one more? Or a Fairbourne? Pleasepleaseplease?) Signet's Regency Christmas Wishes (all right, I admit it, Christmas is the one time of year that I won't complain about an abundance of Regency settings, and I do grumble about Signet ceasing with the anthologies. They can't get us hooked and then cut us off. Perhaps expanding the time frame? I know there was at least one Victorian anthology, and how about Tudor, Medieval or boldly going into the early 20th century?) and Michelle Styles' novel, A Christmas Wedding Wager waiting their turn. Jo Beverley's Forbidden Magic is also calling me.

After that? I do have a sizeable TBR pile, and a bunch of new/current titles, but for me, the Christmas bug lasts clear to January sixth at the very least, so I may need to go digging in the attic for books from years past. I know I have the Christmas Revels anthology that contains Mary Jo Putney's classic "Black Beast of Belleterre," which I am positively hungry to reread in the very near future. I'm also in earnest search of Time Travel Christmas, which is around here somewhere, and it's probably cozying up to Flora Speer's Christmas Carol. I'll hunt them down, never fear.

Then while not exactly Christmas themed books themselves, there are wonderful Christmas scenes in many books by favorite authors. Bertrice Small's Skye O'Malley series has some memorable holiday scenes and how could I possibly not mention the vast array of inspirational romances that shine light on the spiritual side of the season? I even remember a few Hannukah, New Year and Kwanzaa stories over the years, so it really is the season. If I pace myself, I can make the Christmas books last until Valentine's Day, my next holiday fix.

What about the rest of you? Christmas or other holiday romances, good, bad, or meh? What titles have I missed or not mentioned here that are must reads? What do you like to see in such books? Come sit by the fire, grab a hot chocolate and dish.