Wayne really did it this time—he passed along his sinus infection to me. For the last five days I've been hunkered down, wrapped in my thick fleece housecoat with my pockets stuffed with tissue. In between coughing, blowing my nose and generally feeling miserable, I watched videos, napped four hours a day, and knit like a fiend.

While I was home, Renate sent me my guestbook entries to read. Kathy Bailey wrote from Virginia and said she'd read my Quill acceptance speech on my blog. She pointed out, "You thanked everyone but your readers." Good point, Kathy. It is my readers who voted, and my readers who made it possible for me to receive the Quill. So, a hundred thousand thanks to all of you. You did this writer proud, and I am most appreciative.

Debbie has come down with a terrible sinus infection, which is uncomfortable at best, but potentially dangerous to fly under those conditions. Her doctor would not allow her to fly to New York for this weekend’s activities. As a result, she is unable to keep her appointment to sign at the Barnes & Noble on Saturday, October 29 at Pittsford Plaza or appear at the fundraiser for Melissa’s Living Legacy that evening. Debbie is distressed to disappoint her readers and everyone who has planned the fundraiser and those who were planning to attend the function. — Renate

By now most of you know that when the Quill Awards program was telecast they didn't show me getting the award or my acceptance speech. Since you can't hear it in person, I thought I'd type it out to the best of my memory. So here goes . . .

I gave God this dream thirty years ago, and He said, let Me give you the desires of your heart. So thank you, God.

I'd also like to thank Beverly Cleary, my childhood librarian, who gave me my first love of books.

Special thanks to my Harlequin family: To Paula Eykelhof, the world's best editor; Dianne Moggy, Katherine Orr, Lorianna, Randall Toye, Donna Hayes, and one incredible sales staff.

Also my agent, Irene Goodman, for her complete and utter faith in me and my talent.

To Leslee Borger from Truth Be Told, the publicity agency that books my tours. I'd like to add my personal thanks to Nancy Berland, my personal publicist, for guiding my career and being one of my dearest friends.

To my husband Wayne whose support and love I cherish.

And lastly to my brother, Terry Adler, who gave me my first taste of being a best seller when he copied and sold my diary to the boys in his 8th grade class.

It's good to come to work—I need the rest after this crazy weekend. A good part of the family got together for laser tag. I'm going to tell you right now my son-in-law, Kevin, appears to have a lot of repressed aggression toward me. He seemed to take a great deal of delight in shooting me. I was barely able to recharge before he came at me, laser gun blazing. Even the grandkids loved going after me. I'm such a peace-loving person, too.

We all joined up for pizza later, and to watch the Quill Awards which, I have to tell you, were a disappointment. They didn't show me getting the award, or air my acceptance speech. My book was featured as someone who also won a Quill. In other words, I'm not high profile enough. How fleeting the glory.

Six years ago my daughter, Jenny, gave me the best birthday gift of my life. My granddaughter, Maddy, was born on my birthday. Seeing that we share this special day, Maddy and I bake our own cake every year and have a grand time decorating it. This year I thought we'd bake cupcakes, because I found some really cute spider decorations for cupcakes. I told Maddy my idea. My granddaughter paused, then said, "We'll need to bake a double batch because you'll need lots of candles." What can I say? She's absolutely right.

So much for romance. I didn't get home until almost seven last night—it's a long story that includes getting my nails done and grocery shopping—so I picked up a hoagie for Wayne on my way back. He was busy getting the new sound system wiring into the new addition to our house and barely stopped to eat. I wasn't hungry, so I watched "Law & Order," took a hot bath and went to bed. We'll try the romance part again tonight. At this point, sharing a beer and watching bugs zap seems downright inviting.

I'm looking forward to spending a romantic evening at home with my husband. For one reason or another we haven't spent time together in nearly three weeks.

Perhaps I should define romance as Wayne views it. I'll be home in time to cook him a wonderful dinner. He'll open the wine and pour us each a glass, and then he'll settle down to play an on-line poker tournament. I'll call him for dinner, cooked to perfection. He'll replenish our wine glasses. Following dinner he'll insist upon doing the dishes—and while he's sincere at the moment, he'll forget (it's the thought that counts). Then he'll settle down in front of the television and wait for me. He'll reach for my hand and tell me what a fabulous cook I am. He might even lean over and kiss me.

That, my friends, is Wayne's idea of romance–and you know what, it suits me just fine. It's better than sitting outside with a beer and watching the bug zapper.

We had friends over for dinner last night. During the course of the evening we drank two bottles of wine, and I ended up going to bed much later than usual—which is disgustingly early for everyone else. Yes, folks, it's true; I'm in bed before 9 p.m. My entire week is off kilter now, because I slept in on Tuesday morning instead of Wednesday. This means, heaven help me, I have to wake up early three mornings in a row. In case you haven't guessed, I am such a creature of habit. I use the same locker at the pool and park in the same space at work every day (unless someone has the audacity to take that spot before I arrive). Frankly, I don't know if I can deal with this much change all at once.

This weekend was just incredible. On Saturday, June Scobee Rodgers spoke at the Gratitude Tea my daughters and I hold every year, and she was inspiring and funny and wonderful. She touched our hearts as she shared what happened the day the Challenger exploded. It's just amazing how God took her grief, and that of a nation, and turned it into triumph. Spending five days with June was a gift—and we certainly had a grand time together, talking, shopping and getting to know each other better. To top everything, the Seahawks won their football game, so Wayne was in a jubilant mood as well. I will admit, however, that it's good to be back to work.

I continue to walk around town wearing a silly grin. [Note from Renate: Debbie won the Quill Award in the Romance category! A note from Debbie to her e-list is forthcoming]. My dear friend, June Scobee Rodgers, is visiting. Her husband, Dick Scobee, was the commander of the Challenger.

She's in Port Orchard to speak at my church and at the Gratitude Tea my daughters and I hold each year. The Gratitude Tea is our way of telling the women who have touched our lives how special they are to us. I have more news about June that I'll share next week. For now, we're off to shop. Have a fabulous weekend.