August 24, 2008

Upon his graduation from college last year, my middle son decided to save the world - which is a good thing because, hey, somebody's got to do it. 

To that end, he decided to take all the Greek, Philosophy, Music History, Theology, Science, Literature, and Math he'd acquired while attending an August Private College in the South, join the Jesuit Volunteers International, and use his education to become a teacher to youthful offenders in Belize's only maximum security prison.

I wish I could tell you that, upon hearing the news of his next career move, his father and I clapped him on the back and congratulated him on his choice but that would be a lie.  A big one.  

This is not to say that we weren't and aren't proud of him.  We are.  But, really, what mother would welcome the news that her baby was going to go live in a foreign country she'd never heard of for two years, that he wouldn't be able to come home at all during that time, nor could she go visit her child until the second year of his commitment?  And what father, having just paid for four, full-price years at an August Private College in the South, would jump up and down with joy upon hearing that his graduate son had turned down several promising job offers in favor of a position that paid sixty dollar a month?  

Imagine, if you will, the conversations that took place between me and other parents in the spring of 2007...

"Marie, did you hear?  We just got the letter.  Jennifer got into Johns Hopkins!  Our baby is going to be a doctor!  And I heard that the Smith's boy, Taylor, landed a job at a big Wall Street firm.  Twenty-two years old and they're going to pay him a eighty thousand a year, plus a car!  Can you imagine?  It's a little different than when we got out of school, isn't it?  Say, what about Trey?  Where's he going after graduation?"

"Prison."

No, we did not receive the news with anything approaching good grace.  It shames me to say so but there it is.  Perhaps there are such selfless parents out there, parents that would have be thrilled to have their child going off to work Central America for years at a time reforming really, really hardcore criminals, but they don't live at my house. 

Thirteen months have passed since I tearfully (make that hysterically) said goodbye to my boy after the JVI's farewell ceremony (a ceremony I spent glaring at the priests) and walked away with my Aunt and Uncle to continue my sob-fest in a nearby restaurant (where I down two and a half gin and tonics in less than an hour).  Since then, my son has lived through three hurricanes, one hospitalization for dysentery, lost forty pounds he couldn't afford to lose, and learned a lot.  He has also done some incredibly good, truly heroic work among the young inmates he teaches, helping them improve their reading and communication skills, , befriending them, interviewing them and producing programs for Belizian National Radio designed to help humanize them in the mind of the public, and hopefully making it easier for them to transition back into their communities and never return to prison.  It may not be a high-priced job on Wall Street, but if helps even one of his students to redirect his life then that's a pretty good payday, don't you think?  Priceless.  Yes, we're proud of him.  And we miss him terribly.  

But, tomorrow I won't have to miss him!  At long last, we're flying to Belize where we will get to spend an entire week with my son.  I am simply counting the hours!  Yes, it's hurricane season, and yes, it's a zillion degrees with two zillion percent humidity in Belize in August, but I don't care.  So, if you want to phone or email me for the next few days, you're out of luck.  If there is some sort of publishing emergency, it'll just have to happen without me.  I'm going to Belize to see my son!   

August 23, 2008

On Thursday, I finished the front and back sections of my very first sweater!  It's on drying on the blocking board right now and I'm very excited to see how it will look when it's finished.  I was amazed at how quickly and easily I able was to complete this project.  In fact, my success with it may have made me a little cocky about my knitting skills.

The sweater finished, I decided to tackle a shawl pattern.  Let me tell you, this shawl is a whole different animal.  It has a simple lace pattern on the back, just two evenly spaced holes that make up a very pretty pattern.  It looks easy, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get the holes to line up.  They're scattered all over the place.  Rather than a lacy shawl, it looks like I knitted something that was subsequently chewed by rats.  

I've completely ripped it out three times now but still can't figure out what I'm doing wrong.  This is a pattern that makes you say bad words...and teaches you humility.  Maybe I'll put it aside for now and try another sweater.         

August 20, 2008

This just in from the shameless self-promotion department, regarding my next book, A SINGLE THREAD (to be released on October 28, 2008) the August 18th issue of Publisher's Weekly said...

"Bostwick makes a seamless transition from historical fiction to the contemporary scene in this bouyant novel about the value of friendship among women."

And...

"Bostwick's polished style and command of plot make this story of bonding and sisterhood a tantlizing book club contender."

Well, maybe this blog isn't truly self-promotiong because, after all, it wasn't me that said it but the enlightened reviewers of Publisher's Weekly.  Wasn't that nice of them?     

On the other hand, who am I kidding?  I'm tickled pink by this review and very, very excited about A SINGLE THREAD, so go ahead and pre-order a copy...or five.  And then go tell your friends to order theirs.  :)

August 18, 2008

I'm at the point in life where the list of things I am too old to enjoy/appreciate/tolerate is growing longer and longer.  The list includes things like riding roller coasters, eating raw jalapenos, saying yes when I mean no, and standing by silently when people make stupid jokes that degrade women or minorities - that sort of thing. 

This weekend, against my better judgement but wanting to be a nice mom, I told my son he could invite his friends - eight teenage boys -  to spend the night.  Now, I know all these kids and truly like them.  They are creative and clever and, in spite of the fact that they can consume more food than a biblical infestation of locusts, they are a lot of fun to be around.

However, some time between my one-thirty A.M. trudge upstairs to tell them that I wasn't kidding, they really HAD to quiet down and go to sleep, and the next afternoon when I scrubbing the wall with a Mr. Clean Eraser and hoping beyond hope that it would take blue Sharpie marker off yellow walls and white woodwork (Amazingly, it does!), I came to an important realization.  

I am too old for sleep overs.  

August 14, 2008

Now that I've met my deadline, I'm taking a few days off.  It feels odd not to be writing but I must say that I'm enjoying this chance to catch up on my reading. 

I don't know about you, but I actually like reading in the bathtub.  There's something so relaxing about settling into a piping hot tub with a good book.  Generally, I'm only in there for a few minutes, usually just long enough to finish a chapter, but every now and then a book comes along that alters that pattern.  My latest read, THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY, is just such a book. 

It was recommended to me by two women whose literary opinions I trust, Kate Duffy and Kristine Mills-Noble, both of whom work at my publishing house, Kensington.  These ladies know a good book when they read it, so when I spotted this title in my local bookstore, I bought it without even bothering to read the back cover.

Last night, I decided to make this my tub read and got so caught up in this absolutely charming story that I stayed in the water for many, many chapters, ending up all pruney and finally only getting out because the water was icy cold.  It's a wonder I didn't catch pneumonia.  Kate and Kristine should have warned me!  

If you haven't read THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY yet, do.  Curl up in a favorite chair, hammock, bed, or porch swing and prepare to be enchanted.  But whatever you do, don't take it into the tub.    You've been fairly warned!   

August 6, 2008

I'm back home from San Francisco and the RWA convention.  It was so much fun but it's always good to come back home.  If the truth were known, I'm always a little nervous leaving my husband and son alone in the house for more than a couple of days.  It's not that they're irresponsible, it's just that they're men and...well...let's just say we have different priorities.  

For instance, my son has never embraced clean laundry and taking dirty dishes out of the living room and putting them into the dishwasher with the same enthusiasm that I have.  On the other hand, I've never understood why ANYONE would stand in line from 8pm to 12:01am so they could be among the first people to see a new movie - even the new Batman.  Like I said, different priorities.

So, it was with some trepidation that I left my newly planted garden in the care of my men, especially since the weatherman was promising blistering heat during my absence.  But, I had a plane ticket and a hotel reservation, so off I went, leaving several notes reminding them to WATER THE GARDEN at strategic points around the house - as in, taped to the refrigerator door and tv screens. 

It worked!  My garden is still alive, thriving, in fact.  The guys watered it every day. Unfortunately, I neglected the remind them to water the potted plants in the front of the house, so one of them is absolutely shriveled and has lost many leaves but it's not beyond hope.  I've been madly watering and am seeing a few new leaves sprouting.  Everything worked out.  Next time, I just need to leave more notes. 

August 1, 2008

I love quilting but recently, I decided I wanted to take up knitting too so when my friend, Debbie Macomber, invited me to join her and some friends on a a "yarn crawl" during the RWA conference, I jumped at the chance.  

When we got to the store, I found a great pattern book.  Debbie helped me pick out the yarn, suggesting I choose an inexpensive yarn for my first project.  It was sound advice and I really tried to take it, but in the end I couldn't.  I saw a skein I simply had to have, but justified my purchase in my mind because, after all, it was just one project. I paid for my purchases and sat down to wait for the others to finish.  Unfortunately, I sat down right next to a big basket of beautiful, soft baby yarn that would be perfect for a shawl.  

 Hmm.  Well, okay.  It's only two projects and, after all, I live so far away from a good yarn shop.  Buying the yarn now would save money in the long run, I reasoned.  The gas crisis, don't you know.  

Elizabeth Boyle kindly taught me to cast on my first project.  The hilarious part of this is she did so as we were riding down the elevator together.  I don't know if she's a fast teacher or I'm a fast learning (I expect it's the former instead of the latter) but after that, I was off!  I sat in the lobby and worked away for more than an hour, loving every moment.  But before long, I realized I had to buy a set of needles in another size.  I was really disappointed to think I'd be stuck after I got to row six, but Debbie came to the rescue, offering to bring me along as she went to visit another yarn store today.  Great!  It wouldn't take much time or money, after all, I only had to buy a pair of number nine needles.

Well, suffice it to say, I now have enough yarn for THREE knitting projects, but really, I couldn't help it! If you'd seen this beautiful teal blue yarn...It would have been wrong to pass it by.  And...yes...the gas crisis...I probably saved gallons upon gallons by buying it now. 

At least, that's the story I'm handing my husband when I get home, that and an excuse note from Debbie.