Okay, so that’s how I started my day by getting into the jaccuzzi with a good book . . . after I slept until noon.  Sounds decadent, doesn’t it?  Actually it’s not the norm, believe me, though I do edit my manuscripts in the jaccuzzi.  But starting the day that was me trying to be upbeat.  My mom and dad both passed the first week of March, my father 30 years ago, and my mom 2 years ago, which seems like yesterday.  Makes for a tough week.  To support each other, my sister and I took a sisters day together, shopping, indulging ourselves by eating our favorite foods, no calories counted, and going to play the slots–a rare treat–penny slots, of course.  Every time I got over $5 ahead, my sister hit me in the arm and told me to cash out.  She also hit me in the arm every time she won a nickle.  After a day of memories, love and laughter, I came home bruised on the outside but healing on the inside.  So I decided to start the first day of the rest of my upbeat life with a bit more indulgence. 

The great book I was reading–when I remembered it was my day to blog–was Madelyn Alt’s THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC.  If you haven’t read any of Madelyn’s books, you’re in for a treat.  When her heroine thought, "Life goes on, no matter what," I knew it was a sign, because I needed to hear it.

The more research I do for my books, the more respect I have for the basics of The Craft. I’ve learned to send positive, never negative, vibes into the universe, that what I do to others, good and bad, comes back to me, and I’ve learned to pay attention to the signs.  Reading that "life goes on" in Madelyn’s book was a wake up call.  Life is good.  I have so much to be grateful for–my incredible family and supportive friends, the Berkley Babes and Witchy Chicks, local chapters, brilliant brainstorming buddies, YOU, our wonderful supportive readers, and, of course, books!  Wonderful, wonderful books to read.  So many books, so little time; a truer cliche was never more abused, and with such well-motivated cause.

THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC made me laugh.  I needed that.  The heroine is inexpertly peeling potatoes and her mother says, "Be careful, I just cleaned the ceiling."  Well, I hooted.  Talk about a great bit of characterization.  What does that say about the heroine’s mother?  I hope it says she’s an obsessive house-cleaner, because, well, I’m not.

I’m a writer; if I can see dust and crumbs on my kitchen floor, without my glasses on, I know it’s time to sweep, and I will . . . before somebody other than family comes over.  But my ceiling?  Oh, we’ve washed them to paint them, but really, as part of a cleaning ritual?  Though I do have this aunt who, I’ll bet, does clean her ceilings and quite regularly, though her genes, thank the moon and the stars, I did not inherit.

Seriously, how many of you clean your ceilings?  I really want to know.  Maybe I should add that to the list of the housecleaning I’m going to do someday.  Then again, maybe not.

And by the way, if March 17th is a day you celebrate: 

Have a wonderful "First day of the rest of your life" and pay attention to the signs.  One hug for the good days, and two for the tough days,

Annette Blair, www.annetteblair.com