I'm going to be away for a while, so I thought I'd better check in and let everyone know my schedule. I'm flying to Alabama (with a banjo on my knee) for a big Books-A-Million managers' meeting on Monday. While I'm there, I'll be practicing my power schmoozing techniques and signing advance copies of WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES. Then – drum roll, please – I'm flying to Atlantic City for the big STITCHES EAST conference. This is probably the largest knitting conference in the world. I've been asked to speak at the Saturday night banquet and am honored beyond words to be part of this fabulous conference.

Normally my trips don't piggy back in this way, so this is rare. Wayne isn't home yet. He's still driving, and the last time he called he was somewhere in New Mexico. He'll be flying back to Florida as soon as we can arrange the trip to meet obligations here.

Have a great day. I'll be back mid-October with glorious tales of fabulous buys on yarn – think cashmere and alpaca and hand-dyed wool. This is knitter's nirvana.

There's a saying in publishing that actually works well in just about everything else in life. The saying is: NO NEWS IS NO NEWS. Wayne wasn't able to get on the island so we have no idea what shape our condo is in. Because there's no power, no safe water and no place to stay other than a shelter, he's heading home and plans to fly down later to deal with what needs to be done. Our home, Florida, indeed everything, is in God's hands.

It's back to work for me. Have a wonderful day.

Today is one of those “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times” scenarios. The good news is that 44 Cranberry Point is #9 on the NEW YORK TIMES list. My readers do me proud, and I'm grateful. Thank you one and all for racing out to buy the book and then for talking about it so that others are picking it up, too.

Now for the sad news. Our condo took a second direct hit from a hurricane. This time it was Hurricane Jeanne. Wayne arrived early last week to make an insurance claim on the damage we sustained from Hurricane Frances. Part of the garage had caved in, and three feet of water flooded the area from Hurricane Frances. Our car was totaled, and there was other relatively minor damage to the condo itself. The worst of it was mold on the furniture and one sliding glass door that had buckled. (The one facing the ocean.) Wayne didn't feel the door would hold in a second hurricane, and so there is a good likelihood that we sustained heavy damage. My heart goes out to my Florida family. Like everyone else in Florida we will get through this with God's help and guidance. I'll give you an update tomorrow if Wayne is able to get onto the island and get into the condo.

Just to prove to you what a normal person I am, I'll confess I wear a night guard to prevent me from grinding my teeth. I happened to lose it while asleep last night. It's buried somewhere in my bed, but for the life of me I couldn't find it this morning. Wayne's in Florida, and I don't sleep well without him. I spent half the night looking for him, and I think that's when it came out of my mouth and disappeared between the folds of blankets and sheets. I didn't want to take time to do a "strip search," so the smooth surface of my teeth are at risk tonight unless it magically appears.

I mentioned that my kids are worried that a national tabloid will publicize a picture of me in my swimsuit. I hold no such fears but tremble at the thought of one of me in my night guard. Wayne claims that thing is the best form of birth control we ever used.

It's back to work on NAVY HUSBAND, which needs to be mailed off to my editor in two weeks. Have a great weekend, and I'll check in with you on Monday.

I realize I'm probably disillusioning a lot of you who think authors live glamorous lives. For the last two days I've been moving my mother from her assisted living complex in Yakima to another one here in Port Orchard. Trust me, there's nothing exciting or alluring about moving. Yesterday afternoon I stood in the pouring rain while the movers loaded a storage unit with what didn't fit into Mom's new digs. Some things I just couldn't bear to put into storage, and so I'm driving around with a recliner and two dining room chairs in the back of my car until Wayne gets back from Florida. Speaking of Wayne, he arrived safely in Florida and is dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Frances on our unit, which did pretty good, considering. Unfortunately, our car is a total loss, and part of the roof of the garage caved in. All in all, we feel blessed to have escaped with as little damage as we did.

Back to Mom. She grew up during the Depression and she saves everything. I told her she had to stop shopping at the Stuff-Mart. She has three closets full of clothes, and everyone knows it's not a good idea to leave clothes hanging in a closet. They shrink—at least mine do.

Okay, it's back to work on NAVY HUSBAND, which will be published in July 2005 and will end the Navy series. Have a great day and I'll check in soon.

Wayne departed yesterday morning and is driving to our Florida home with his best friend, Norm Frelinger. It sounds like our condo did fine during Hurricane Frances, but apparently matters didn't go so well for our vehicle because of the water damage. We do have power, but the elevators still aren't functioning. That means Wayne has a stair climb of 15 flights every time he wants to get to the condo. I guess I won't need to bug him about getting in his exercise during this trip.

We had a wonderful weekend at Seaside, Oregon, where I had a signing at A Whale of a Tale Bookstore. Lisa Jackson, a good author friend of mine, stopped by, too. Lisa and I sold our first books to Silhouette back in 1982 within days of one another. The same insightful editor, Mary Clare Kersten, bought both of our books. Ironically, Mary Clare lives in the Pacific NW now and teaches writing classes at the University of Washington.

It's back to work for me. I'll blog again in a day or two after I’ve had the chance to settle Mom in her new home.

Debbie

Instead of working on NAVY HUSBAND today, the way I should be, I let my sweet husband talk me into escaping the office and going out on a hot date with him. Perhaps I should define what he means by a hot time in the city. We've been married thirty-six years, and I wouldn't want you think the romance in our relationship has waned.

Our hot date starts with a Costco run. I love Costco, and we should arrive in time for lunch. If you've never had their $1.25 hot dog and soda special then you haven't lived. I always insist we eat first; otherwise, when we shop hungry, we buy out the store. After Costco, I might even manage to sweet talk him into stopping off at Linda's Knit and Stitch, my favorite yarn store. She's always got some new yarn to show me, and almost always it's a yarn I can't live without. After we unload the car, it's off to the movies. It's my turn to pick the movie, and I chose HERO.

Our daughter Jenny is borrowing the house this evening for a party—Pampered Chef or one of those—so Wayne and I will hole up in the basement with a bottle of wine, a good book and one another. Now that, my friends, sounds like a mighty fine day to me.

In the morning we're driving down to Seaside, Oregon for a signing at A Whale of a Tale bookstore and wine reception at the Cannon Beach Ocean Lodge. We'll be back on Sunday and will listen to the Seahawks game on the ride home.

I hope your weekend is as much fun as mine!

Debbie

I swim three to four mornings a week, but before you view me as a righteous soul, noble and health-conscious, you should know something. It isn't rising early and exercising before the crack of dawn that's so virtuous. What takes raw courage is standing in a bathing suit in front of all those high school teenage girls. You know the ones I mean, with their perfect bodies and smooth skin. They cast their pitying looks toward me or any one else over thirty who happens to be in the dressing room. Their turn is coming!

One of my children's biggest fears is that some tabloid magazine is going to show up one morning and snap a photo of me in my swim suit. I admit it's a scary thought. Before you know it, my picture will be next to the woman who's pregnant with a space alien's baby. The whole world will view me half-naked while they stand in line to pay for their groceries.

More good news this morning in regard to 44 CRANBERRY POINT—I received advance word it'll be #12 on the NEW YORK TIMES list next week, and this week it's #19 on the USA TODAY list, thanks to all my loyal readers. This is so exciting!

I'm off to do a reading at the Literacy Council this afternoon in Bremerton and then an autographing at Eagle Harbor Books on Bainbridge Island. It should be a full but fun day. Have a good one, too.

Debbie

Tuesdays are always fun days, because I talk to my agent Irene Goodman every Tuesday morning. It's amazing all the business we have to discuss week to week. Exciting projects are in the works. Here's a big scoop: I'm going to have my own knitting pattern book published by Leisure Arts in May of 2005! I'll tell you more as soon as I get all the details.

Yesterday afternoon I spoke at the Port Orchard Senior Center, which plays a prominent role in the Cedar Cove series. They have a pot luck the first Monday (that isn't a holiday) of the month, and I was their September guest speaker. These seniors are the best cooks in the world, and they insist on eating dessert first. Don't you just love it? I signed in and was immediately ushered to the dessert buffet. I was told it was either grab my cake and pie now or they'd be gone, because no one waits to dish up dessert. I thought they were joking, but sure enough by the time I went through the buffet line there wasn't a crumb left. Ah well, it was just as well I declined; it was better for my diet anyway.

Have a fabulous day.

Debbie

I'm back! I had to say that, being that I returned from California where our dear Arnold is now governor. I flew down to Orange County to speak to the local Romance Writers of America chapter meeting and it was a blast—a furnace blast. This is a crazy time of year for weather. It was Africa hot in California, and my seatmate on the flight home was headed to Edmonton, Canada, where it had snowed the night before.

I'm still walking two feet off the ground with the news of how well 44 Cranberry Point is selling. I raced into every gift shop in both airports to check out how well it was selling. Naturally, I had to pretend I was just browsing as I glanced admiringly at the book rack, placed my hand over my heart and sighed heavily. To be honest, it was hard to not announce to anyone within the vicinity of my voice that 44 Cranberry Point is currently # 8 on two very important lists.

My publisher is equally excited, and a huge floral bouquet and a bottle of wine awaited me when I arrived home. My agent sent me eight beautiful roses, too. It's wonderful to be part of such a supportive team.

Well, I better get back to writing so you don't have to wait more than a year for the next Cedar Cove installment.