New Book Smell

I take the whole New Year thing seriously. I'm a sucker for opportunities to reflect and renew and take stock, to revisit old dreams, set new goals, find inspiration. And there's that feeling that—come January 1st—anything is possible, again. Sure, nature provides its own new beginning every year at spring time, but still, the new year holds its sway, as it did on Tuesday when hubby and I sat at the dining table and mapped out our paths for the coming year.

In 2013, that path includes the release of my new book, both thrilling and daunting, knowing the work ahead of me as I go out into the world to give public birth to it this spring. I loved writing the book, the story behind the story (listen here), and now the experience of working with my new publishing team at Gallery Books/ Simon and Schuster. On the eve of Hurricane Sandy, I visited New York to meet with them, and I was blown away by their incredible devotion to the book, and their intention to get it into the hands of as many readers as possible starting April 2.

This is how much they love it. They commissioned an artist to create this beautiful cover.

I cried when I saw it because it so thoughtfully reflects the story inside the pages. You can read more about the story here. If you pre-order a copy at the bottom of that page, your support will be noticed by the book industry, in a good way. Love Water Memory represents a brand new path for me with my writing career, and I'd love your help.

On April 2, there will be a launch party at Elliott Bay Books in Seattle. (Notice that I'm inviting you to come with plenty of notice?) Of course, if you can't make it, I'll be traveling through the Northwest and Bay Area and Denver to do readings and book clubs. I hope to see you somewhere, so check my schedule, which will be filling in very soon.

It's a brand new year and an opportunity to reconnect. As always, I thank my lucky stars for all of you who've been with me for all or part of this journey, and I wish you wonderful things in 2013 and beyond. Dream big!

Wedded

For Thanksgiving this year, our family had something extra to be thankful for: a wedding. My sister Sheri, who hosts the meal in her rural Colorado home every year, announced that she and her long-time beau Ken would marry the day after Thanksgiving.

We'd all assumed their coupledom without marriage was the way it would be, and it was fine. It was good, actually. They embody the spirit of love in everything they do, not only in their relationship. They are both teachers and members of the art community, and if those two things don't say love, well. They just do.

But they decided to marry each other in front of the forty-some-odd family members who all trekked to the San Luis Valley for a sunny Colorado weekend. We carried furniture out of their living room and brought in folding chairs, took our seats amid white and silver decorations, each with a champagne glass in hand. We listened to music from Ken's brother Gordon on violin, from Sheri's daughter Morgan and her boyfriend Abe, who sang a touching song that Abe's father wrote to his mother. Matt and I sang the Etta James classic At Last. And Sheri and Ken spoke to each other and to us about what they mean to each other, about what love looks like in real life (the way a mother watches her daughter sing, for instance, Ken noted). The Kleenex box made the rounds.

Sheri helping Daniel weave.

Sheri showed us a small weaving loom she'd made just for the occasion. We were each to weave a few rows during the day, using a color of yarn we picked. By the end, they would have a record of everyone who'd been there that day, all up close and personal, yarn to yarn to yarn, much like the way we were seated together in their living room.

They wed each other with words and with family and friends and with rings made by another friend. And then it was time for champagne. And kissing. Lots of kissing.

I write this because I was so moved that day by the simple beauty of love. And by each of the participants, who were fully there in support and to celebrate. And because Ken and Sheri are officially AARP age, not spring chickens, but so young and sweet and happy in their love, even after fourteen years together.

Later that night as the musicians in the family played songs, there came a request for a slow one, so Sheri and Ken could dance. Sheri asked us to play At Last again, so we handed out lyric sheets, everyone singing as the newlyweds took to the floor. Before I knew it, another couple had risen to dance, and then another. Pretty soon, every single person there was up dancing in the small living room.

Spontaneous love and celebration had erupted, once again. Gratitude and thanks to Ken and Sheri and our big extended family for the best Thanksgiving ever . . .

Warmth

After seven sunny days in Colorado over Thanksgiving, we arrived home Tuesday night to cold rain and a suspiciously nippy house. The cat, rather than being happy to see us, looked pissed. The furnace was out. It was too late to find anyone to come fix it. We bundled up in sweaters and socks and threw extra blankets on the bed, and spent an uncomfortable night trying to sleep with a desperate feline between us, determined to draw whatever warmth we had out of us.

Did I mention that I was in the midst of a snotty, head-achey cold, and had been traveling since early in the day by car, bus, plane, and taxi, hacking, coughing, and burning through three travel packets of tissues, much to my fellow travelers' delight?

At 2:00 a.m., afraid to roll over for fear of having to warm up a new spot in the bed, I thought, "Hats! Why didn't we wear hats?!"

This morning, after securing an emergency appointment with only the second HVAC company I tried, I read this:

Warm Trees, Cold People

And realized: I have not one thing to complain about. And I have a request for all you knitters and knit bombers out there: clothe people this winter, not trees. Make hats, scarves, gloves, sweaters, blankets, and give them to those without heat. Not a knitter myself, I will procure those items by other means, and get them to people in need.

Deal?