Happy birthday, squeetus

So, I've been blogging now for seven years. Several of those years are archived and unsearchable (but you can get to them eventually if you follow a trail of links). Seven years, and I still feel like I'm learning what this blogging thing is all about. But I've come to one very strong conclusion: only blog what I would say to anyone in person. I'm so appreciative of how kind you commenters are. Thanks for helping to keep this a safe, positive place to be.

Speaking of safe, positive places to be, I'll be at The King's English Thursday, Dec. 3, from 5:30-7:00 pm, signing with other authors as part of their annual holiday part.

Saturday, December 5, I'll be part of Literary Luminaries, speaking with Dean in the auditorium of the downtown Salt Lake City library from 3-4, and signing at 5:30 at the adjacent Night Flight Comics.

Next time I'll post my fav-books-of-the-year list, but don't have time tonight. From this blog, it probably could seem like my life is books and writing. Of course my life is my family, and the cracks in time are filled with reading and writing, as well as some other major time commitments of the volunteer-type capacity. How do I do it all, people often ask. Let me tell you how: today I had my first dental x-rays in probably seven years. About half the meat I buy I end up throwing out because it goes bad before I get a chance to cook it. (Freeze it, you say? Then I'll never defrost it and throw it out after it gets freezer burn.) No one can do it all! I say, we all are capable of doing, say, three things well: I'm one heck of a mother and wife, and I write books. The end.