In which we are feeling artsy

My favorite class in college was an art history course I took--something like Cave Painting from a Really Long Time Ago to Pictures Painted by People You've Heard of, or something like that. It covered the paintings at Lescaux up through the early nineteenth century, and our final was a series of 50 slides. The professor scrolled through and we had to identify the piece, the period, and the artist. I LOVED it. If there had been an entire degree plan structured around it, I'd still be there, believe me. As it was, I didn't even have enough spare credits to take the second half of the course and consequently used to know much more about Hellenic sculptures than Cubism. (I say "used to" because most of what I learned in college is GONE. I found a Russian history notebook a few years ago full of detailed notes about boyars and such and I literally could not remember a single fact. Oh, yes, I can. Parts of Russia are cold. See? I was paying attention.)

Anyway, I particularly loved the Renaissance paintings, the shift from purely religious works to a more secular perspective--although Renaissance madonnas are some of the most sublime works ever painted. But while I just admire these paintings, other folks are digging deeper.

Poor Leonardo is about to be exhumed so researchers can determine if the Mona Lisa is a self-portrait. (The rumor has been circulating for ages.) I remember seeing a documentary where a self-portrait of Leonardo was superimposed upon the Mona Lisa's face and the features were almost an exact match. And if memory serves, they fit the Shroud of Turin's features as well....

In further Leonardo news, someone else has apparently discovered a musical score buried in The Last Supper. You can actually listen to the music here. A commenter referred to it as "The Last Supper: The Musical", but it would have to go a LONG way to light a fire under Andrew Lloyd Webber.

In which you might wonder what Valerius March looks like

Wonder no more, my dears. Charming reader Doris, who has shared her talents with her portrait of Brisbane, has come through again, creating a portrait of Valerius March, erstwhile physician and younger brother to Julia Grey. You can find his image here. I adore his March green eyes and the suggestion of an overbite, which I think makes him look earnest. Doris has also very kindly provided wallpaper of the image, in 1600x1200, 1280x1024, 1152x864, and 1024x768. Doris would be very pleased for you to make use of these images for your own personal enjoyment, but they are not for distribution.

Seeing this image of Valerius, I wonder which of the March brothers is your favorite so far? Julia claims her own favorite is Benedick, of whom we have seen very little--there was a quick reference to him in Silent in the Sanctuary. But we have gotten to know Valerius, Lysander, Bellmont, and Plum rather well. Which would you rather have as a sibling?

In which we are domestic

I don't usually like granola. It's too sweet, too chewy, too oaty. (And too expensive--seriously, have you priced it lately? It's OATS. It shouldn't cost $8 for a small bag.) But my mother ran across this recipe on Chow, and it is SO worth the effort, largely because there really isn't any effort. It has far fewer ingredients than most granola recipes, and most of them you probably have hanging around the pantry. I love having it on hand to use as a topping for Greek yogurt. (The rest of my family just douses it in milk and eats it like cereal.) I make it with unsweetened toasted coconut--for some unaccountable reason I have FOUR bags of unsweetened coconut in my freezer and have no idea how to get rid of it all--and raisins. And it makes the house smell divine! Perfect project for a snowy afternoon because you will feel virtuous when you are finished and have something delicious to show for about five minutes' worth of puttering.

In which we talk of cabbages and kings

Alright, not really. But it sounds nicer than "miscellaneous things", don't you think? First off, several days ago I flogged Alan Bradley's delightful book, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. Now the second in the Flavia de Luce series is available for pre-order--on shelves March 9. The Weed That Strings The Hangman's Bag it is called, and the cover is a delicious pale violet with a dancing skeleton. My galpal Jomie alerted me to the fact that the book is about to come out, and I'm glad she did. I would have hated to have missed out on the further adventures of Flavia de Luce! (I should also point out that a few days ago I received a very charming email from the author himself thanking me for my support of his work. I dearly love to see nice people do well, so I think everyone who reads this should go out and buy two or perhaps seven copies of the book...)

On to matters perfumery....I've almost finished working my way through the samples I ordered from The Perfumed Court, and I sit in puzzlement. En Passant, I am absolutely enraptured with; Tea for Two had to be chucked out. But there are three that simple bewilder me because they just sort of hang about doing peculiar and inexplicable things. Stella McCartney's Rose Absolute is a pleasant enough rose when it goes on, but it dried down to smelling precisely like Comet. People asked me if I had been cleaning the bathtub--and anyone who knows me well should NEVER ask that question. Tom Ford's Black Orchid was another curiosity. Again, it went on well enough, but the drydown was vanilla. Just...vanilla. With a name like that, I was expecting something large and lush and dangerous, not a cookie. Hermes Hiris simply smelled like an old woman's laundry hamper. A very clean, well-to-do old woman with a very nice hamper, make no mistake. But I don't especially want to smell like geriatric laundry. Having said that, any of the three would very likely smell quite divine on someone else, but they are not right for me. My personal litmus test is whether or not I can keep my nose away from my arm when I'm testing a new fragrance. If the answer is no, then I buy it. Anything less than luscious is getting tossed away. (I also sampled YSL's Parisienne. Mistake--I should have opted for the last bottle of Paris at the counter. Parisienne is a lush rose, but later it smells like a rose that has been pickled in alcohol. Paris is a better bet for me.)

Speaking of perfume...one of the Kardashians has launched a fragrance, and I cannot understand for the life of me why she would want to flog it dressed as JLo. I would never in a month of Sundays looked at this ad and thought, "Ah, one of the K girls is frolicking in public again." Instead, I figured it was Jenny from the Block promoting Glow 2.0 or some such.

And finally, it is awards season--I watch the red carpet arrivals and usually ditch the rest of the evening unless it's Oscar night and I've watched three or more of the Best Picture nominees. Usually the gowns are deeply disappointing for various reasons. (If you have more money than a small principality and a team of people to dress, coif, shoe, and bejewel you, you ought not to end up looking like you just rolled out of Del Taco and into your limo. There was a short white bedsheet affair during the Golden Globes that I STILL have not recovered from.) But this season has been well worth watching because I have found my Holy Grail of evening gowns--beautiful drape, exquisite silhouette, perfectly fitted. I concede the color might be better, but at least she pulls it off. If it were me, I would have begged them to make it in dark, bottle green or a lush violet. And then I would never take it off.

In which it is burrowing weather

At least here it is. We keep swinging between gloomy rain and blustery cold, and both of those extremes are lovely reading weather, I think. I like something meaty and rich this time of year, both to eat and to read, and Nancy Goldstone's The Lady Queen fits both of those criteria. It is the biography of Joanna I, Queen of Naples--one of those distant, shadowy historical figures who often get short shrift by biographers and filmmakers. Thank goodness, Goldstone has stepped into the breach because Joanna is a wholly fascinating character. Queen in her own right, she struggled in each of her three marriages to maintain control over her own domain throughout a life that reads like a medieval soap opera. Poison, infidelity, strangling, papal politics--this story has it all and significantly more. And if the raw material weren't enough, Goldstone is a deft writer, avoiding the frequent biographical pitfall of pedantry. A perfect book for a winter's day.

Also, on the very good news front, my lovely blogger friend, Maryam in Marrakesh, has had her fabulous blog nominated for a 2010 Bloggie in the category of Best African Weblog! If you haven't read Maryam's blog, you are absolutely missing out. She's gorgeous, she shops, she travels to very dangerous places to write about human rights abuses, and she's building a guesthouse in Morocco with her adorable family. (Yes, I know. She seems like the effortlessly perfect person it would be so fun to hate--but Maryam is entirely lovable. She is whimsical and thoughtful, has splendid taste, and her posts from her travels regularly move me to tears. If you want to know how to move through life as an actor rather than a member of the audience, you can find no better example than Maryam.) Fingers crossed for a Bloggie win!

In which I am blogging elsewhere

I have two recent entries on other blogs that you might want to check out--they're giving out freebies! You can find me blogging for my publisher about writing enriched content for ebooks--did you know that when you buy one of my ebooks there is always exclusive content in them you can't find anywhere else? True story. There are recipes, letters--all kinds of goodies.

I'm also over at Writerspace chatting about how I created the blueprint for the first Julia Grey book. It's a story I end up telling fairly often because people always want to know how you got started, and they always gape at me when I tell them I stopped writing for a year. ON PURPOSE.

In which we are getting our haint on

I do love the word haint--it's Southern for "ghost". On a messageboard I frequent, a poster by the name of Chris shared this link to the 10 Best Ghost Photographs of all time. I have to say, some of those scared the BEJESUS out of me. (Another Southern word, by way of Ireland, I suspect.) Anyway, creepy ghost children are the worst--give me a nice grey lady any day. I noticed they didn't include the fabulous photo from Hampton Court Palace a few years back that was captured on CCTV. I suppose it was a hoax? If so, it's a shame, because that one was divinely detailed.

In which I don't do spring cleaning

I have never been able to wait for spring to overhaul the house. To me, the post-holiday doldrums offer the perfect time for pottering. It's too cold to go out and usually dreary to boot. It's the time of year when we feel bloated from too much holiday excess, both inside and out. Our cupboards and closets are groaning from holiday decorations, gifts, miscellanea. It's the absolute best opportunity to meander through the house, taking a drawer or shelf at a time to organize and purge. It feels virtuous to throw things out or fill up bags for donations. (And honestly, after the holidays, it is lovely to have something to feel virtuous about, don't you think?)

In my quest to declutter, I love to read about other people's systems and rules. I'm fascinated by folks who declare they will throw something out every time they bring something new in, and actually stick to it! I am more spontaneous in my purging. I never discard an item just because something new came in, but I will happily get rid of a drawer full of things a week later. (Now that I have started watching HOARDERS it's become even more satisfying to get rid of things.)

Earlier this week, I tore through Throw Out Fifty Things: Clear the Clutter, Find Your Life by Gail Blanke. It was superb. The principle is simple: throw away fifty things in two weeks. The catch is that like items count as ONE. (Which means if you decide to purge a magazine collection, good for you, but those hundreds of pounds of glossy pages that you hauled out to the recycling bin are still only one item.) The beauty of the system is that once you start weeding out the excess clutter, you weed out the bad thinking as well. It is just as much a self-help book as one about organization, and I found myself flagging page after page so I would go back and read certain passages over again. One of my favorites: There is no way it is. There is only the way you say it is. A beautifully succinct reminder that our reality is what we make it. Anyway, if one of your resolutions was to tidy up, this book is a must-have.

In which we have literary bling

Dear Sally--of the fabulous Already Pretty blog--sent me a link last week to these extraordinary necklaces. They are absolute conversation-starters and completely unmissable--certainly not something to wear on a day when you feel a trifle low-key--but they are rather aggressively interesting and certainly different. I wonder, what snippet of literature would you be willing to sport around your neck?

In which we talk mottoes

I am intrigued by the notion of mottos--the words we would use to describe our intentions or our values. If this were the fourteenth century, we might carve them on the lintels of our stately manors or embroider them onto banners to carry into battle. Today we tattoo them on our bodies or use them as signatures in our web postings--a trifle less impressive, but more accessible to the general public. (Did serfs have mottoes, I wonder? BTW, I have pluralized it as "mottos" and "mottoes" while writing this. AskOxford claims both are correct, but both look impossibly stupid.)

My family--the Mackintoshes--have a motto, "Touch not the cat bot a glove", which is a variation on the ever-popular "Nemo me impune lacessit" when you think about it. (If you've forgotten your Poe, that motto is the one he trots out in "The Cask of Amontillado". It translates to "no one touches me with impunity" and, if memory serves, is also the motto of the city of Edinburgh.) But while I do like the quirkiness of the Mackintosh motto, and it is understandable that the Scottish clans would need to take a firm stand with one another, it does seem a trifle unfriendly in this day and age, don't you think?

I have a few mottoes of my own and they vary depending upon my mood and situation, but there is one that rather neatly packages up the bits and bobs of my life and ties the whole thing in a pretty bit of Latin--"specto subitus", which is a welcome reminder to "expect the unexpected". I have toyed with the notion of having it discreetly tattooed someplace, but I could just as easily paint it above the door of my study or have it engraved on notecards--less expensive, less painful, and less permanent.

And I wonder, what is your motto? And how would you choose to proclaim it?

In which we love Emma

Granted, she may not be the most popular Austen heroine, but she has charms of her own. Meddlesome, snarky, and full of self-importance, Emma illustrates the importance--and relevance--of a flawed character. For all her flaws, she is nonetheless likable, perhaps because there is a touch of "there but for the grace of God go I" about her.

Happily, Masterpiece is airing a new adaptation beginning January 24 and running through February 7. Do check out the Masterpiece Emma page for a discussion guide, interviews, quizzes, slideshows, and perhaps best of all--links for an Emma Twitter party with prizes! (Have just decided Julia needs a Twitter party for the release of Dark Road to Darjeeling...she has a Twitter account, you know. You can follow her @LadyJuliaGrey. She has been very discreet on Twitter thus far, but I suspect she will tweet more often as the publication date nears.)

Anyway, very happy indeed to have a new Emma, and since I still haven't managed to watch the rest of "Cranford", I am full up with good things on the DVR queue.

In which we still have a dream

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and it is a day worth remembering because there is still work to do and there is still a dream to make real. Dr. King delivered his speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963. It was a beautiful, deftly-rendered piece of rhetoric that still resonates today. Here is an excerpt--one that still has the power to move mountains and change hearts:

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

In which we ponder courage

I've been thinking about courage lately--and authenticity, which requires courage. As it so often happens, pondering something calls to the universe and suddenly you're inundated with messages. (Is it a fresh inundation, I wonder? Or is it that you are simply now attuned to things that were there all along?) Anyway, in Thursday's comments section, Journey--a frequent commenter here whose remarks are thoughtful and wise--posted this about a concept called "butterfly courage":

As a caterpillar, the butterfly blends in with its surroundings and isn't noticeable ... then as she grows into her next stage, she builds itself a coccoon (sp), surrounding herself with a thick wall to keep out all the danger ... but then she realizes how confining and limiting those walls are (how they also keep out the good and wonderful) and struggles to break them down, one piece (one brick) at a time ... and emerges, a beautiful butterfly, stronger than ever before because of the struggle ... who is, by the way, more noticeable than she's ever been before, and thus more out-in-the-open to predators and those that would tear her down or apart ... and yet, still she takes the chance and Flies.

Marianne Williamson once said that when she first began her career everyone was very supportive and "atta girl." But when her popularity took off and she came to the attention of the public in a wonderful way, some of the very same people began a "who does she think she is?" kind of program.

Butterfly Courage: the courage to be as beautiful as you are.

I am reposting it because I wanted to make sure everyone saw it, particularly the last line. The courage to be as beautiful as you are. THAT is a powerful idea. It takes guts to live up to your full potential. I have often observed that the minute you raise your head up to be better than average, there is somebody waiting to lop it off. It's like we're moving along--or perhaps mooooooving along--in bovine contentment, placidly munching our way from one field to the next, without ever looking up to see the horizon. Well, here's a note for all of us: if you cannot see the horizon, you cannot get there.

And who wants to be stuck in a field of cowpats with a herd of people who are just like you? Wouldn't it make for a lovely world if everybody were doing their own thing, living authentically, being THEIR best, and not worrying about what other folks were up to? Then we could appreciate one another for our differences and our achievements instead of feeling threatened by them.

But that isn't our world, alas. There are too many people who suffer from the fatal taint of insecurity, withering their own spirits and poisoning the well of creativity for everybody else. These are people who will never reach their own potential and cannot stand to see anybody else reach theirs. Sad, terminal, pitiable, but to be avoided at all costs. Life is either far too long or far too short to live it at the behest of others. Whatever aspirations you have--and look at that word, aspiration. It is related to inspiration, words that link breath and hope, perhaps the two most primitive and essential components of life--and do not be dissuaded by anyone.

Time to trot out my favorite quote, written by Marianne Williamson and used by Nelson Mandela in his inaugural speech:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

So, how will you shine your light?

In which you might want some links

With all of the dreadful news and pictures coming out of Haiti, I know many of us want to help in whatever ways we can. Often the first responders in such disasters are the good folks at Doctors Without Borders. They have established treatment tents, and sometime today should be able to set up their inflatable hospital. There is a donation link on their website, and you can follow their efforts through the Field News updates. If you'd like to make more regular contributions, you can become a Doctors Without Borders Field Partner for as little as $7.50 per month.

I've spoken often about the great things that Heifer Project does. While not first responders in the traditional sense, they do have several ongoing projects in Haiti, and suspect that their partners have lost everything. Because of this, they are collecting funds for disaster relief. Just follow the link for more information.

The American Red Cross has already released over $10 million in disaster aid. The linked page will give you the chance to make a donation to a specific fund or where the money is most needed.

Hopefully, the major credit card issuers will waive the processing fees they usually charge as they did during the collection of the 2004 tsunami relief funds.

And perhaps the simplest way to help: text "Haiti" to 90999 and a $10 charge will appear automatically on your cell phone bill. Cell phone providers have assured the State Department that 100% of the funds will be forwarded to the relief efforts.

ETA: My apologies. This post was supposed to come before yesterday's, but since my queue went cattywampus, I have updated the DWB information and reposted for Friday.

In which the universe has been acting odd

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K, my friends, and all of it is good. There is definitely something in the air, whether it's the new year or some cosmic shift, I can't say. I have several friends who are noticing it too. They are embarking on love affairs or new careers or planning trips, and it's riveting to watch people bursting with enthusiasm. Anyway, my email has been buzzing like a...well, I'm tired and the metaphors aren't coming so let's play Mad Libs and say that my email has been buzzing like a (thing that buzzes a LOT) this week. There have been all kinds of lovely things waiting there including an invitation to come sign books on Long Island. If you're in New York, come see me! I'll be signing here at 3pm on Saturday, March 20:
Best Bargain Books
217 Centereach Mall
Centereach, NY 11720
631-737-7777
www.BestBargainBook.com

Now, let's play catch-up! It seems like loads of little things are stacking up on my desk and I thought a single post to clear several of them off would be just the thing. Yesterday, Moira Allen kindly directed me to her site, Mostly-Victorian.com, an excellent place for a lover of Victoriana to while away some time. (I actually have one of the Girls' Annuals featured on her bookshelf page. How or why I acquired it, I haven't the faintest idea, but it's been on my shelf for years.)

Also yesterday I turned in the final tweaks to Julia Grey #4, which is now titled Dark Road to Darjeeling. Titles are funny things and loads of people have input into them, and mine--contrary to rumor--is not the most important. Titles, like covers, are usually decided upon in the end by the Sales and Marketing folks because they have the keenest sense of what will appeal to buyers. The best praise for the new title is that a reader commented on Facebook that it "rang her bookseller's bell", so we are off to a great start! (Did I mention Brisbane's in the bathtub? Oh, yes, my friends...)

As to what I'm reading, I found Crimes of Paris at the library, and was vastly intrigued by the subject--murder and mayhem in turn of the century Paris, including the theft of the Mona Lisa. It's nonfiction, by the way, and written by the same Hooblers who wrote a book about the goings-on in the Villa Diodati during the summer of 1816--the houseparty that spawned Frankenstein, among other things. But no sooner had I cracked it open than I realized it REEKED of cigarette smoke. Here's another Mad Lib for you: People who contaminate library books with smoke should be (painful fate). And my local bookstore didn't have a copy, so I've put it on my Amazon wishlist and moved on to a book about Natalie Clifford Barney, an American socialite who kept a Parisian salon. It looks luscious, but I only seem to have time to read just before bed and it's so heavy I keep hitting myself with it.

What's new with YOU?

In which I am feeling desperately nostalgic

I love Virginia, do not mistake me. But the most difficult aspect of moving away from Texas has been the loss of Texan cuisine. (And Texas is BIG. There's a lot of it.) Being from San Antonio, I am a die-hard Tex-Mex girl, and for me that always spells home. But Texas is known for lots of other culinary adventures, and chicken fried steak is the one I'm craving at the moment. If you aren't from Texas, you may not relate. In fact, you may not even want to know about it at all because I will be the first to admit, it isn't pretty. But if you were born between the Red and the Rio Grande, at some point, chicken fried steak will become a significant entry in your lexicon of food memories.

For those of you who aren't familiar but are curious, chicken fried steak is a thin steak--usually round steak--pounded thin, dredged in milk-egg mixture, then a flour mixture, then fried to dark golden perfection before being smothered in cream gravy. The proper accompaniments are mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and biscuits. Variations are neither encouraged nor tolerated. Now, it sounds simple enough, but the road to chicken fried perfection is a perilous one and it is very easy to lose your way. A bad chicken fried steak is tough as boot leather and nowhere as useful. (If this is the case, you will be forced to make a meal on gravy and biscuits--not a complete loss, but not entirely satisfying when you have gone to the trouble of frying.)

There is a most excellent entry on the subject of chicken fried steak on the Homesick Texan blog, complete with recipe and pictures that are so luscious I almost licked my monitor and then cried salty tears. I haven't had chicken fried steak since I left home, and although I probably only ate it once a year when I lived in Texas, by my calculations, the universe owes me about six of them. (By the way, please do not be diverted by Alton Brown's recipe. There is no THYME in chicken fried steak, just like there are neither beans nor ground beef in chili.) My great consolation here is that in seven weeks I will be in Houston, eating my own body weight in the food of my people.

Don't forget, tonight is my live chat at Writerspace! 9pm Eastern, and I hope to "see" lots of y'all there.

In which you might have loved "Cranford"

The Masterpiece production of "Cranford" that aired year before last was absolutely marvelous, and I very nearly missed the fact that they had made a sequel! It's a two-parter, airing January 10 and 17 on PBS. Most PBS stations rerun Masterpiece at least once during the week, so check your listings to see if you can catch up. I adored the first "Cranford" so much that it's been stored in my DVR queue since it aired!

Also, mark your calendars because tomorrow evening I am chatting at Writerspace! Chat begins at 9pm Eastern time, so drop by and visit with me about the books, the process, upcoming releases, etc. See you there!

In which it is Monday

And therefore we are in need of diversion. I know I have posted this link once before, but for the life of me I cannot remember if it was on the old Blog A Go-Go or here, and a reader was kind enough to remind me of it a few weeks ago. It is for a Victorian-themed game and hosted by a museum website, just the thing for a chilly Monday morning when you'd rather be snuggled down under a quilt with a brown pot of tea and a good book than toiling at your labors. (And I do mean chilly--18 degrees here today!)

Also, if you are a fan of all things steampunk, do check out The Steampunk Home, a delicious corner of the blogosphere for all things domestically steampunk. (The kitchen cupboards alone make it worth the visit.)

On the fragrance front, I ordered a sampler set of Olivia Giacobetti scents. (She is the nose who created my beloved Passage d'Enfer for L'Artisan.) I tried Tea for Two, assuming the Lapsang note would be just my thing, but I found it subsided into pure butterscotch pudding. If you enjoy butterscotch pudding, this might be the perfect signature fragrance for you. I, however, moved on to En Passant and nearly swooned. Gorgeous! It's lilacy and heliotropy and I don't even care that I just made up both of those adjectives. It is a trifle green and cool for a winter scent, but still luscious. I always know I've found a winner when I can't keep my nose away from my own arm, and believe me, I nearly devoured it with this one.

In which I am experimenting again

Ah, fragrance, thou art a fickle whore. Once more I am experimenting with scents, and oh MY, the places I go. Yesterday's adventure was with Tauer's Lonestar Memories. Of course, I ordered it for the name because I am a complete sucker for nostalgia. The result was not pretty. The top note is tires, just hardcore black rubber. The drydown is disturbing. On Facebook I likened it to decomposing old woman--in her church clothes--and I wasn't wrong because as soon as I said it aloud every person in the room said, "Eeeeeeuw. But yeah."

Now, Perfumes: The A-Z Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, the fragrance BIBLE, gave it four stars. Their expert noses detected things like barbecue smoke and creosote. I detected Sunday school teacher stuffed in a meat locker. But that might be your thing, so please don't let my experience put you off if you're inclined to sample it. (And if you are at all interested in fragrance, you MUST get the new edition of the Turin/Sanchez book. I ordered the paperback on a whim, not realizing it was updated and has more than 450 new fragrance reviews. Lovely!)

Also, there is a new contest up and running, so don't forget to check out the contest page!

And finally, in MOST excellent news, my agent called me yesterday to complain that she got no work done at all because she was riveted by Road to Darjeeling, which she and my editor both say is the best Julia Grey novel yet! I am BEYOND happy right now, as you can well imagine.

In which it is a VERY good day

I want to write something pithy and witty and quotable, but I cannot seem to manage anything other than the most tremendous YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY because my editor loves my new book--working title, Road to Darjeeling. The weeks between turning a manuscript in and getting your editor's thoughts are harrowing ones. You nibble your nails and pace your floor and try to be resolute in the face of all the sharp, pointy, prickly thoughts that needle you in the middle of the night. (These would be the thoughts about being a fluke, having lost all of your talent, and that this latest book is so foul that you would have done better using it for stuffing your mattress than pretending it was decent writing. Those are not very nice thoughts.)

But the other day, as I was trying to be very Zen and put those thoughts aside, I remembered that I had just finished reading the collected works of Florence Scovel Shinn, and the question popped into my head, "What would Florence do?" And the answer, quite obvious to anyone who has read Shinn, is that she would thank the benevolent universe for her book's unmitigated success and then go about her business, behaving as if her editor had already called and congratulated her.

So that is what I did. I took the lovely coat I bought myself for finishing the book out for a walk. I had a nice lunch out; I ran errands. I cranked up my ipod and danced with my dog. (I also learned that he prefers Lady GaGa to Beyonce, but his absolute favorite is vintage Annie Lennox.) And I behaved like a woman whose editor just said she loved her book.

And the very next day she did.

In which we talk books

Yesterday I was chatting with my agent--one of my very favorite people to chat with, I should point out. Anyway, the conversation meandered onto books we read and what we REALLY thought of them. (I ought to mention for clarity's sake that I will never be brutal here about any book simply because this is a public forum and every book, no matter how vile, is the culmination of somebody's hard work and cherished dreams, and I for one would rather kick kittens than slag someone's hopes. If I don't like a book--and I don't like a LOT of books--I simply won't discuss it in a public venue.)

So my agent and I exchanged a few recommendations with each other, and I told her the two novels I had most enjoyed this year were the Mary Doria Russell book I mentioned yesterday, and The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. I also thoroughly enjoyed the research books I read for Julia Grey #4, particularly Amy Stewart's Wicked Plants, and Up the Country by Emily Eden. (If you are at all interested in colonial India, do hunt down a copy of Eden's book, along with Marian Fowler's Below the Peacock Fan, and Margaret MacMillan's Women of the Raj. And don't expect to get much done until you finish them.)

And now I want to know, what did you enjoy reading most in 2009? (I know there will be readers who are generous enough to mention my books, but let's leave those out of the discussion altogether since I'm looking to add to my to-be-read pile!)

In which we need some joy

I think our ancestors were far wiser than we. They would still have been celebrating the twelve days of Christmas at this point, while we have sullenly hauled ourselves back to work and school with much muttering and grumbling. (If you don't believe me, check out the facebook status yesterday for just about anyone you know. If misery could power the world, well, there would go that pesky dependence on foreign oil we hear so much about.)

I think the trouble is that we rush back too quickly--this year in particular because we have a full five-day week. Much more preferable is the year when January 1 falls on a Monday and we don't have to stagger back to the real world until Thursday with the tantalizing promise of the weekend to sustain us. Our forbears, on the other hand, knew a thing or two about frivolity. They spun the season out for awhile, noshing their mince pies and spiced wine and presenting one another gifts of milking maids and jewelry and rather a lot of poultry, when you think about it. (Partridges and French hens and swans and geese and calling birds AND turtledoves? Why not a nice pig or a cute little fainting goat?) Why, I wonder, did Twelfth Night fall out of favor? I suppose we can blame the Pilgrims. They do seem to have stripped quite a few of the traditional pleasures away, don't they? We don't have maypoles or Morris dancers or bonfires at Midsummer, although I have heard some sinister things about Morris dancing.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yes. Joy. We have quite a bit of long, dark winter ahead, and it's good to illuminate the way with small, bright things, I always think. So here are some things that have made me happy recently:

*The new sign-up widget on the right sidebar of the blog. I haven't managed my own mailing list for some time, but I still got rather a lot of requests sent directly to me. Now readers have a second, even more visible spot to send in their info, and just in time with a fresh newsletter coming in February.

*Domestic Sluttery. I discovered this blog during the holidays and have nearly made myself cross-eyed plowing through the archives. I LOVE the Domestic Sluts. (In Victorian times, a slut was not a woman of low morality, per se. She was a woman of untidy and slovenly habits. THESE sluts are entirely fabulous, I promise.)

*"Sherlock Holmes". Is it entirely period-accurate? No. Did I care? Not a bit. It is FUN. And for the readers who have asked, yes, it is set precisely in Nicholas and Julia's London. Guy Ritchie simply never disappoints, and I'm beyond tickled to know that a sequel is already in the works.

*Dreamers of the Day by Mary Doria Russell. Just finished this book on Sunday, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I would tell you that it is set at the 1921 Cairo Conference, but that might put you off if you aren't a history buff, so I will simply say that any book that manages to include Winston Churchill, T.E. Lawrence, Gertrude Bell, and a dachshund is a must-read. It was also a very quick read, which suited my mood perfectly. My favorite line? "Never buy anything from a man who's selling fear."

*Finally, I offer you a quote from E.B. White: "We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry." So I wonder, dear readers--what gives you joy today?

In which you may be resolute while I am a slacker

So, today finds us starting the first work week of the new year, and I wonder, are you resolute? I never make New Year's resolutions. I loathe them because I think they set people up for failure, and always by the second week in January, you're surrounded by folks who are marinating in self-loathing. Far better to set resolutions weekly or daily or even hourly if you like.

Having said that, I am now going to contradict myself and post something rather wonderful that looks frighteningly like a laundry list of resolutions. My friend Lisa posted this on a messageboard we frequent, and I love it. She calls it a handbook for 2010, a much better label than resolution, I think. Or maybe we should call it a list of aspirations or inspirations, or whatever word makes us happy and energized instead of the grim fortitude of being resolute. Now, one or two of these items might make you quibble--I, for one, will not be seeking out the company of children under six just to better myself--but even if you were to choose just one thing from the list and put it into practice, I suspect it might make you very glad you did.

Lisa's Handbook for 2010:
Handbook for 2010

Health:
1. Drink plenty of water.
2. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar.
3. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.
4. Live with the 3 E's -- Energy, Enthusiasm and Empathy
5. Make time to pray.
6. Play more games
7. Read more books than you did in 2009.
8. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day
9. Sleep for 7 hours.
10. Take a 10-30 minutes walk daily. And while you walk, smile.

Personality:
11. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
12. Don't have negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
13. Don't over do. Keep your limits.
14. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
15. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip.
16. Dream more while you are awake.
17. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need..
18. Forget issues of the past. Don't remind your partner with His/her mistakes of the past. That will ruin your present happiness.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone. Don't hate others.
20. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.
21. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
22. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
23. Smile and laugh more.
24. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree...

Society:
25. Call your family often.
26. Each day give something good to others.
27. Forgive everyone for everything.
28. Spend time w/ people over the age of 70 & under the age of 6.
29. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
30. What other people think of you is none of your business.
31. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

Life:
32. Do the right thing!
33. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
34. A greater power heals everything.
35. However good or bad a situation is, it will change..
36. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
37. The best is yet to come.
38. When you awake alive in the morning, thank a greater power for it.
39. Your Inner most is always happy. So, be happy.

In which I have missed you!

Happy 2010, readers! I hope the holidays were good to you. I missed you while I was away, and we have loads to catch up on--most notably that Silent in the Grave is at last available in trade paperback!

Also, I will be blogging and chatting over at Writerspace in the month of January, details to come. I adore the chats because they give me a chance to touch base with readers I might not see in the course of my travels.

I was so pleased to find Silent on the Moor on several bloggers' lists as a favorite for 2009--much appreciated!

There were lots of questions via e-mail and facebook about the book trailer for The Dead Travel Fast. In case you missed the little discussion on facebook, the quick rundown is that my husband and I put the trailer together. We set ourselves the challenge to create a trailer for no money at all, and I think the end result achieved precisely the effect we wanted. I chose the photos from our own pictures taken during vacations--except for one or two we shot specifically for the trailer. I selected the quotes and music, and my husband did all the rest, which was masses more than I did, if I'm honest. (He's my ringer. His own job is very creative and sometimes requires him to make power point presentations or short movies to pitch a project.) In any case, we got something creepy and atmospheric, had some fun, and kept to our nonexistent budget!

We will be back to our regularly-scheduled bloggery as of tomorrow--see you then!