Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 01-29-2021

Dear Reader,

It's all about the little things in life for me. Because doing the little things is where I find my joy, and then I can share my joy with others. But unfortunately life isn't always fair, and that unfairness can deplete my energy and my joy.

A few years ago I was in a dispute about the installation of a wood floor in our home. I could have folded, walked away, lost money and had someone else finish the job correctly. But it wasn't right! No, it wasn't fair!

At the same time I was dealing with my wooden floor, my health insurance company (even though I had a pre-authorization for a monthly procedure), would deny, deny, deny the claims. I had to make five or six calls every month, and I had a thick, 3-ring binder detailing every call. The date, time, issue, name of employee I spoke to, their employee number, verbatim what the employee said, and every word I said. No, it wasn't fair!

But after a few days of struggling with both situations, I was feeling overwhelmed, and I realized I didn't have enough energy to fight both battles, and I was probably going to have to make a choice. But I was having a hard time accepting that idea, because it felt like defeat.

No doubt about it, things aren't always right and life isn't always fair, which led me to thinking about a conversation I'd had with my grandson. He'd been having a difficult time letting go of injustices. Sure, it was little things like, his brother just walked over and whacked his Lego block design for no reason. And the boy in my grandson's class didn't follow the rules, but he won and my grandson didn't.

So I had a discussion with my grandson about his situations and in the midst of explaining the concept of "choosing your battles" and not always having to win, I realized I needed to heed my own advice.

"Choose your battles, Suzanne." And soon I found my joy.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-28-2021

Dear Reader,

Today's column "A Day with Margaret" written by Sharon Benedict, was one of the Honorable Mentions in my 2020 Write a DearReader Contest. Thank you very much Sharon, for sharing your story with us. It's a delightful read.

A DAY WITH MARGARET

I spent a day with Margaret who is 99.75 years old. She's in the hospital and waiting to find out why. As in why was she dizzy, why was she weak and having trouble standing up. I started my visit by getting her to eat a few bites of fruit from her breakfast tray. Margaret is blind and can hardly hear with her hearing aids, so I fed her.

How is it I'm friends with a 99.75 year old woman? My mother was a school teacher and she taught at the same school with Margaret. They discovered they had daughters the same age and husbands who had grown up farming, so they brought us together every Friday night for years! The parents would talk and Jill and I would play at either her creek or mine. We would vacation together, swim at the local lake, and take weekend picnics to various parks. The families were inseparable for years. I even went to the same graduate school as Jill because of an invitation to see a concert one night and stayed in her dorm. But that's another story. Everyone is gone now, except Margaret and myself.

When the doctor or nurse would come in, they'd ask, "may we talk in front of her" and Margaret did not hesitate to say, "This is my adopted daughter, and you can say anything you want in front of her." I had taken a book, a sketch pad, and had my iPhone prepared for a day of watching her sleep. She had other ideas. What I've learned is when you can't see and can barely hear and have had a full wonderful life, there's a lot to think about and share. Margaret started talking at 9 AM, took a brief nap while I left to find lunch and for about fifteen minutes after I returned then talked until I had to leave at 6PM. She had a lot to share, to remember, to see if I remembered. She had me look up people from her past, to see if they were still alive.

Margaret worked with a gentleman back in the 1960's who shared a dream with her and asked her to assist with the project. Thinking that not everyone who graduated high school would want to go to college, but that they would need some place to get more training than a high school degree, they started Clark Technical School. It grew to become Clark Technical College and now Clark State University. It is still well known locally as a great two year school which many use as a stepping stone to a four year degree. Margaret has a road named after her around the campus.

Luckily, we actually found the son of the gentleman she'd assisted in founding Clark State with and have made contact! Now, that may seem a trifling thing, but as we age, friends pass, family passes, the circle of friends becomes smaller all the time. New people who come into an elder's life are usually doctors, nurses, housekeepers, and paid assistants, so to find someone from fifty plus years ago who remembers the past is huge. I'm hoping phone calls are made and Margaret's life has just a bit more interest to fill her days. She should get to go home in a day or two as they couldn't find anything seriously wrong that pushing more fluids and food wouldn't fix. Not being able to see food and drink, she tends to forget it's there and that she actually needs to eat and drink. But she has a bet with the doctor that she'll see 100, so eat and drink she must, if she's going to win! She asked me yesterday if being with her made me rethink wanting to live to 100. It has its disadvantages, but actually seeing how well she remembers and is able to reach out, with a little assistance, I'm willing to give it a try.

Sharon Benedict
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-27-2021

Dear Reader,

Miguel, my new gardener, is a talented guy, but it's practically impossible to get him to pull an old plant out of the ground and throw it away. A couple of weeks ago, I wanted to spruce up my front yard, so I told Miguel to yank the sickly-looking red geraniums and toss them out. But instead, he insisted we transplant the geraniums from the front of the house to the side, where they wouldn't be as noticeable. So, rather than futz over such a minor little detail, I agreed. My crafty gardener positioned the geraniums in-between other strong healthy plants and low and behold, two weeks later, every plant in the side flower bed looks inviting and you can't tell which ones are the "leftovers."

Now I tease Miguel, calling him my "leftover" gardener, but he's got me thinking about other leftovers in my life, too.

I live in a historical home and when you think about it, the entire house is a leftover and that's what gives it its charm. When I walk through the low door frames I'm reminded that someone in 1926, (eighty-one years ago), walked through these same doors. The wood floors in my home are original, the curved archways, the dish closet in my sunroom; they're all someone's leftovers that bring me joy every day.

The old end table in my living room, it's a perfect fit in-between the chair and sofa. The bottom shelf on the table looks almost like new, but the top is in terrible shape; rings from water glasses, scratches, and a couple of ink marks. It's definitely showing its age, so I've been searching for a new end table to replace it. But now, after thinking about Miguel's leftover approach, I've decided to refinish the table instead.

When I was a kid, leftovers were always a big deal. In our family, leftovers was the name of a main course. Just like pot roast, fried chicken or spare ribs with sauerkraut, "leftovers" had its own recipe card. Open the refrigerator, take out all the bowls that were covered in plastic wrap, and "Dinner is served!" Hmm, sounds pretty good right now.

What's for dinner?

Leftovers.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-26-2021

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author Kjell Tore Hovik, along with co-author, Dr. Jennifer Love, MD, has written the new book, When Crisis Strikes: 5 Steps to Heal Your Brain, Body, and Life from Chronic Stress.

Kjell Tore Hovik, Ph.D. is a clinical neuropsychologist who has authored and co-authored more than 16 peer-reviewed academic articles and book chapters. He has trained professional athletes to use mental techniques to boost their peak performance potential. Dr. Hovik is Editor-in-Chief of Nevropsykologi, which is the peer-reviewed journal of the Norwegian Neuropsychological Society.

Please welcome today's guest author. Email: [email protected]

Contemplating Hope by the Fireplace

As with most things in life, context matters and one and the same thing can be a force for evil or a force for good. The fires that raged in California in 2020 left in their wake embers symbolizing destroyed lives and communities, and the Covid-pandemic ravaging around the world left embers of virus to flare up unexpectedly and shower financial havoc and mental anguish to already devastated communities. And yet, looking into the warming fireplace here in my mountain home with ice, snow, and sub-zero temperatures all round just a few days into the New Year, the red-glowing embers in the hearth convey another image to mind: hope.

The world is a dangerous place, and for thousands of years the chances of living past the age of 25 was 50-50. In fact, life expectancy from the 1500s to 1800s was only about 35 years. It's still true many places in the world, but for most of us we've worked together to change those odds. In the US and Europe, the lifespan now is around 80 years. And yet, what have we been spending our time doing all these bonus years? Speaking for myself in my 50s, I've been busy doing a lot of complaining. Instead of buying low and selling high (borrowing the stock analogy), I've had sky-high expectations to live forever and a pitifully low level of gratitude. This imbalance I've discovered is a sure-fire recipe for feeling cheated; just like buying high and selling low is a sure-fire recipe for squandering your financial assets and ending up frustrated, spent and depressed.

Having a lot of time to myself and my own thoughts the past months, I've worked to bring the push-and-pull in my life to a better place and balance. I don't need to make a million, spend a million, watch a million or live a million. The ratio of my own demands to thank-you's is fully under my own control. My strategy has been to focus on being present and grateful for each single moment of time I spend with friends, family, in nature and in my community. It's an amazing world we live in, but it's only there if we open our eyes, mind and heart to it. It takes a conscious decision that needs to be repeated again and again in order to not revert back to old ways of expecting the moon and taking people, things and the future for granted. I need to spend more time thinking, planning and facilitating grace--by that I mean reflection, humility, empathy, integrity, sincerity. I won't change anything by complaining about others--change starts with myself.

Hope can be a dangerous thing--it's both an idea and an emotion. If it stays inside as purely a feeling and an idea, it can become stale and old. It needs to be followed up by action--starting with small steps. My co-author and I write about transitioning from ideas to action, from feelings to behaviors, from pain to sane. Each of us have within us untapped potential to shine and change the world for the better. Every effort contributes to that end. The spark is in the embers of hope. The next step is being kind to ourselves, then to the next, and the next and the next. We can do this together.

-- Kjell Tore Hovik
[email protected]

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-25-2021

Dear Reader,

Every Thursday is baking day in my kitchen and every Friday, since the pandemic started, my husband and I make a dessert delivery to our three grandchildren. It's been a great way to stay in touch with the kids. But this past weekend, we decided to play a joke on the kids. Instead of a dessert, we set a huge bag of broccoli on their stoop, rang the doorbell and took our positions 6-feet back.

But when our granddaughter, Hadley, came to the door without saying a word, she picked up the bag, opened it and started eating a raw piece of broccoli. And her brothers Paul and James did the exact same thing. Even my daughter-in-law started chomping on raw broccoli. So the joke was on us! But the broccoli eaters did look extremely relieved when my husband and I retrieved a chocolate pie and chocolate chip cookies from our car.

It was a new chocolate pie recipe for me and it was a huge hit! My daughter-in-law sent photos of the kids eating the pie, and she added a note saying it was such a fancy pie, the kids thought I must have bought it at a bakery.

Chocolate Pie

Two 3.4 oz (or 3.9) Godiva instant chocolate pudding mix
3 cups heavy whipping cream
1 container Cool Whip (8 oz), thawed

Graham cracker or Oreo cookie pre-made crust

In a stand mixer or large mixing bowl, combine the pudding mix and heavy cream with an electric mixer until well blended. You will NOT prepare the pudding mix as directed on the box. When you beat the pudding mix and heavy cream together, the mixture will be very thick. Add about half the Cool Whip and mix on low until combined. Spread this mixture over the crust. (You could use a pre-made graham cracker crust. I used a pre-made Oreo crust.) Once you add in the Cool Whip, the mixture will become more creamy and fluffy. Cover the pie pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4-8 hours.

Before serving the pie, spread the remaining Cool Whip over the top. Then I broke up a cold Hershey's chocolate bar and sprinkled it on top. So simple!

* Congratulations to the January Chocolate Chip Cookie winners. Andi K., Marion D., Billerica Public Library, Aurora M., Akron-Summit County Public Library, and Patty F.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-22-2021

Dear Reader,

Instead of making a New Year's resolution for 2021, I decided to challenge myself to not say or think anything negative for an entire day. Because when I thought about what I'd like to change about myself, I realized that I'd become more negative than I used to be. It was very troubling to me. Because that's not really the kind of person I am and it's not who I want to be.

I'm a bit of a detective, always wanting to figure out the reason "why" behind something, and after reflecting on the problem, I decided this negative thinking wasn't really my fault. I blamed it on COVID, and the things going on in our country. But then I realized those excuses were more negative thoughts. So instead of looking for something or someone to blame, I decided that I might not be able to change some of the things going on around me, but I could change how I reacted to them.

My first thought of my day, without thinking or saying anything negative, was right on target. 'This is a great idea, Suzanne, it's going to be a wonderful day!'

And from there, things went downhill...

'Why doesn't this stupid can opener ever work? We need a new one!'

'I should get out outside and finish mulching my flower garden on the side of the house. Why do I keep putting it off? Boy am I lazy.'

'I need to make a doctor appointment, but I don't like the tele-doctor appointments. The screen never works and the doctor's voice is garbled, so I end up having to call their office.'

Okay, maybe this No Negative Thinking Day was going to be more difficult than I realized. So I asked my husband if he wanted to go for a relaxing ride in the car. It was a real quiet drive, but unfortunately not in my mind.

"See that car next to us," I asked my husband, "it's really ugly."

'Whoops, that's a negative thought Suzanne.'

'Look at that, would ya look at that? What are they thinking? Why doesn't that driver simply drive down to the stop light and do a U-turn instead of holding up traffic trying to cross two lanes?'

'Hmm, I like that scarf that woman is wearing, but those pants--whoa. She shouldn't wear those.'

Desperately trying to put up a STOP light when anything negative showed up in my brain got me to thinking, 'Well, geez, if I can't say anything negative, what am I going to talk about during this car ride? Oh dear Suzanne, you have a problem!'

So when we got home I decided to bake. It always relaxes me. But the piece of Glad Press and Seal I was trying to tear off the box to cover my pan of brownies was fighting back. It stuck to the box when I pulled it out, so I gave it a big yank, but then the wrap "sealed"
itself to the box. After three more yanks I finally won, but the piece of plastic wrap I ended up with was a mess, and I couldn't use it.

Reminding myself this was my No Negative Thinking Day, I decided to slow down and I told myself it was no big deal that the wrap wasn't working. I'd simply fix the problem.

And I did, I covered up the pan of brownies with tin foil.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-21-2021

Dear Reader,

The quality of writing in this year's Write a DearReader Contest was outstanding. Today's Honorable Mention piece was written by Karen Schoch. Thanks Karen for sharing your story with us.

My husband and I, both in our 60s, like to kayak. To clarify, we kayak on lakes only, no rivers for us. And we take snacks. The afternoon goes like this: put the kayaks in the water, manage to get into the kayaks, and proceed to paddle up and down the lake. Our paddling style is quite unique. Paddle, paddle, paddle. Stop, relax, look around, enjoy the quiet. Paddle, paddle, paddle, repeat. Invariably, about fifteen minutes into the adventure my husband will say "Is it time for snacks?" At which time we paddle into a cove, pull our kayaks side by side, and take our snacks from our waterproof bag. We are not high achievers.

There is something magical about being up close and personal to the water and nature. We've seen fish, blue herons, turtles, ducks, and the occasional hawk. We've explored coves and inlets. Whatever stress, tension, or worry you bring with you gradually dissipates with each stroke of the paddle and each quiet survey of the water and wildlife around you. Being outdoors and breathing in good fresh air is good for what ails you.

When the sun lowers in the sky and we've had our fill of paddling (and snacks), it's time to head back to the boat launch area. This is the tricky part. Getting into the kayak isn't really that difficult. Getting out of the kayak, well, let's just say it's contrary to the forces of nature. You must paddle straight onto the shoreline to beach the front of the kayak up on land. This means the front is now higher than the back, which is still partly in the water. You must maneuver from a low, seated, reclined position to a standing position, while getting one foot onto the shoreline to get out of the boat. Seriously? It's a battle between my hindquarters and gravity. The battle is fierce and it isn't pretty, but I have always won.

On one memorable trip I had a brilliant idea. Instead of going headlong onto land, I'd just place the boat parallel to the shore. That way I wouldn't be tilted backwards and I'd just have to get my foot out of the boat and stand up. Genius! I can hear the snickering from those who already know what's coming. If I'd thought harder about it I would have known too. Instead, I smugly put my plan into action. I paddled up to the shore sideways, put my left foot onto the ground and attempted to stand up. As I stood, though, my kayak started to drift out toward the lake. Of course the boat wasn't going to stay put! And unfortunately my right foot was still in it. As the kayak kept drifting further I realized that doing a split, which I had never done in my life even in the good old days, was inevitable. So I did the only thing that could save me. I fell into the water. I thought I saw my husband reaching his hand toward me but maybe he was just waving, I couldn't tell. I stood up, wet, sputtering, and laughing because what else could I do?! A quick scan of the area showed only a fisherman on the bank and a couple in the parking lot. Whew! At least there weren't a lot of people around to see that one! And that's when I heard it. A voice, a bellow really. "Karen (last name)! I knew that was your laugh!" That couple in the parking lot? Of course they were people I knew. We all had a good chuckle and I learned some things too. Whether someone is laughing at you or with you, it's all good. Always bring a change of clothes.

And if something seems hard, your best course of action is to head straight into it.

Karen Schoch
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise these titles deserve your attention:

(Fiction) BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN by Diane Chamberlain

(Fiction) THE LAST LUMENIAN by S.G. Blaise

(Fiction) LOVE SONG by Kylie Scott

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-20-2021

Dear Reader,

I said words, so many words, some of them I didn't even know existed. I could now fill a dictionary with words you could use when your bare foot whacks full-on, the leg of a wooden dining room chair. I'll edit myself today and simply tell you, "IT HURTS!" So now the toe next to my big toe on my right foot, is entirely purple and the toe next to that one--well, they could be twins. And the baby toe on my left foot, it hurts, too. It was injured from an accident the previous day. (That's a lot of toes, you might need to take off your shoe to follow along.) What the heck is going on with me?

I'm not sure yet, but now that I look back, I think the baby toe whack was a warning from the Universe, but unfortunately I didn't pay attention. Was the Universe trying to tell me something? Possibly, "Suzanne there's too much clutter in your house. Look around, it's time to do a winter thinning of 'things.'" Or, "You need to slow down Suzanne. You're moving too fast." Well, the Universe definitely has my attention now.

Break your toe, sprain your toe, it doesn't matter which, the prescription is ice, elevate your foot and medical tape. I was told to tape one of my injured toes, to a non-injured toe next to it. I couldn't imagine what good it would do, but it did lessen the pain. (I don't know what you would do if you whacked all of your toes. Maybe cover your entire foot with tape and hope for the best?)

Even with the tape, my toes are so swollen, so I can't wear my shoes which would really limit me, but in the midst of the pandemic, I don't go anywhere, except outside in my yard. So my daily routine hasn't really changed all that much, except everything is in slow...motion. I live in Florida, so I'm 'slowly' walking out to refill the bubble machine I run in front of my house every day. I'm checking on my Monarch caterpillars and moving them to different patches of milkweed when they've devoured the plants they're on, and if you walked by my house, you'd see me gardening and pulling weeds in bright, white ankle socks. (This girl likes to feel a little stylish even when she's taped and shoeless--and the white socks, they bleach up real nice.)

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

LOVE SONG (Fiction) by Kylie Scott

I hope Stage Dive fans will be delighted to dive into the continuing story of their world with new rock n roll darling, Adam Dillon, and the girl of his dreams who got away. Mal and Dave and the gang pop in on our new couple and it was awesome to get visit old friends. There's also all of the romance, music world drama, high fashion, and edgy love you'd expect from a Stage Dive Novella. I'm giving away five copies, click on the link to Authorbuzz and the book jacket to enter or email: [email protected]

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on LOVE SONG to read more and to email author Kylie Scott, you'll get a reply.

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-19-2021

Dear Reader,

Mary Ellis, today's guest author, is a USA Today bestselling author who's written twenty-five novels including Amish fiction, historical romance, and suspense. Her latest mystery One for the Road is the first book in her new Bourbon Tour mystery series, featuring travel writer Jill Curtis. Ms. Ellis lives in Ohio.

Please welcome Mary Ellis and say "Hello" at: [email protected]

MY LIFE AS AN ANIMAL RESCUER

Let me begin by making it clear I'd never planned to rescue animals for a hobby. I grew up in the city and although I always loved the family dog, I had no interaction with wildlife other than throwing nuts to squirrels in the park. All that changed once my husband and I bought a house in the country. Animals were everywhere...stray dogs showed up at our door, pregnant cats took up residence in the barn, and squirrels fell down our chimney, needing to be rescued. As a teacher I was home in the summer, so I had time to find homes for the dogs and kittens. And of course, I had Mama Cat spayed to prevent overpopulation. Word seemed to spread and I was soon gifted with baby chicks and ducks that grew into full-sized creatures. Husband made it known he was an engineer and not a farmer. That became crystal clear when we spotted a huge snapping turtle trapped in the middle of the road. "Stop the car," I demanded. "We must do something."

"You are on your own," he replied, but at least he blocked traffic on our side of the road. When a burly man in a pickup stopped oncoming traffic, I jumped out, picked up the thirty-pound turtle and sprinted to the nearby pond, unsure how long his head would stay inside the shell. I'm happy to report I still had all ten fingers when the turtle dived beneath the water.

My favorite rescue involved a Great Horned Owl which happens to be a very large bird. The owl was sitting on a fence in front of our house with an injured wing. Since it couldn't fly, I had to find a vet willing to treat wildlife. The raptor center in the city agreed to rehab the bird, but transport was up to me. With a wingspan of 4-6 feet that would be no easy task. What did I do? I called our small town police chief. Since it was a slow day in crime, one of the deputies donned leather gloves and enticed the bird into the enclosed back of his squad car with a piece of raw meat. The raptor technicians successfully treated the bird when she arrived. I offered to pay the department for their mileage, but they declined. After all, positive PR stories are worth their weight in gold. And I put another notch in my animal rescue belt.

-- Mary Ellis
Email: [email protected]

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

THE LAST LUMENIAN (Fiction) by S.G. Blaise

Meet 19-year-old Princess Lilla, who is a rebel-in-disguise. She fights for the freedom of refugees from oppression. But the arrival of the ruggedly handsome General Callum brings news of a bigger war brewing on the horizon.

Best Science Fiction winner at the 2020 New England Book Festival and Best Romance Fiction winner at the 2020 New York Book festival. You can win one of five signed copies of my book, click on AUTHORBUZZ and the book jacket to enter or email me at: [email protected]

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on THE LAST LUMENIAN to read more and to email author S.G. Blaise, you'll get a reply.

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.

Dear Reader Column 01-18-2021

Dear Reader,

Today's the last day to enter this month's Chocolate Chip Cookie Giveaway. To enter the drawing and to see photos of past winners (and the latest funny dessert I made for my grandchildren) click here.

Every three weeks, before my housekeeper shows up, somehow I manage to find a place to hide our messy stuff. After she leaves, everything looks tidy, the air smells clean and it feels like our house is just the right size. When I look around I see a quaint, comfortable, historical home, but as the week progresses, my house gets smaller and smaller. I pull things out of the drawer, but some things never make it back. Why keep putting my tennis shoes and hat back in the closet? I'm just going to retrieve them again tomorrow morning when I go for my walk. If company were coming--company who I felt the need to hide the everyday me from--in thirty minutes, I could have myself hidden away again. But maybe as long as the house is clean, what's the harm in having the real me, hanging out--all over--in every room?

Perhaps I should think of the everyday stuff sitting out in the open around my house, as "family photos." My hat is really a "picture" of me--I'm just not in it at the moment. Those newspapers haphazardly stacked in the corner, they're a picture-perfect shot of my husband. He loves to read the "Wall Street Journal." And the plastic ball with the noisy bell, the next time I step on it with my bare feet, instead of chastising myself, 'Why the heck don't I keep that thing picked up?' I'll think of Natie, my gray kitty and how cute she looks when she's batting it around the floor.

There's a limit to everything and I suppose there's even a limit to how many "family photos" one house can possess. But for right now, my little mental ruse is working. When I look around, my house isn't filled with messy stuff--it's filled with "family photos. 'Oh look at that, my husband let his chili bowl sit out overnight and the heat from it left a ring on my new end table. What a treat! It's one of those "forever" family photos I'll never forget. Now every time I walk by my brand new end table, the one that took me months to find, that "picture" will always remind me of my husband, and how much he loves my chili. Isn't that sweet?

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN (Fiction) by Diane Chamberlain

It's so gratifying to see this title hit paperback. As a thank you to readers for supporting me, I'm so thrilled to offer up 10 copies of the book as a giveaway! Click on the link to Authorbuzz and the book jacket to enter or email: [email protected].

This book came about from my interest in the Works Progress Administration (WPA) mural project that took place in the 1930s and 40s. What would it be like, to be a young, inexperienced artist tapped to create one of these pieces of art? What small town post office should be its home? Anna Dale's character, and the setting of Edenton, North Carolina, both were born of these questions.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN to read more and to email author Diane Chamberlain, you'll get a reply.

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy.