I'm back in Port Orchard. If I needed a reminder that I'm not in Florida any more, all I need do is look out my window at the rain.

There's also a woodpecker attacking my building. Seeing that it's spring, and the nesting instinct has taken hold, said bird seems to find it absolutely necessary to pound away every minute of daylight. From the moment I arrived this morning there has been a constant hammering sound. I found my foot tapping to the beat of this woodpecker's tempo. Needless to say, while I love all God's creatures, this one HAS GOT TO GO. Doug, our handy man, is on the case. No one wants to kill the little critter, although the longer he pounds, the more tempting that sounds. Not to worry—we are seeking a more humane method of artful persuasion. Move little birdie, or else.

I’m leaving on a jet plane . . . in the morning for Seattle. I’ll be there long enough to pack for the Authors At Sea cruise and to collect hugs from the grandkids. My entire morning has been spent packing my assorted knitting projects and collecting shoes from all around the house. (No one wears shoes in Florida.) Wayne is staying on for a week or two and then driving back in time for Easter. My next blog will be from Port Orchard, better known as Cedar Cove. I just hope I can get used to wearing shoes again.

We had a bit of excitement. There was a grass fire across the way that turned out to be underground wiring that was ablaze. We lost power. It's not such a fun thing to be trapped 15 floors up. Thankfully it was not long and the power is back on. I know for a fact I am no Laura Ingalls Wildler.

I’m back to walking. Martha has recovered enough from her surgery for us to hit the track once again, and it feels great. I can’t decide if it’s the exercise that invigorates me, or if it’s all the talking Martha and I do. In fact, we chat non-stop for two miles. Actually, I think world leaders should resign and let Martha and me take over. We share recipes, plot books, and gossip. Rest assured our gossip is only the kindest possible sort.

Wayne and I are back from the Lee County Reading Festival, where I got to practice my power schmoozing techniques on some of the big names in the publishing world. I met Brad Meltzer and Steve Berry (no relation to Dave!) and Sharyn McCrumb. Connie May Fowler and I did a workshop together, and it was great. Connie talked about the time Oprah phoned her. She also mentioned that when she’s writing, she works in a frenzy and doesn’t eat. Doesn’t eat? Naturally, the woman is as thin as a fork tine. She talked for fifteen minutes, but that was the only thing I heard. She doesn’t eat. I felt it was my God-given duty to tell her about Twinkies.

As most of you already know, my talent is with knitting needles and words. I am so good with words, I can turn a noun into a verb. In other words, I’m challenged in several areas, one of which is decorating.

For this reason I took my friend and condo neighbor, Suzie, shopping with me. I needed something for the corner of my kitchen–I just wasn’t sure what. I found a lovely, tall, brown basket. From there we went to a floral store where I bought grass. This isn’t normal grass, my friends. It's African-type grass, to which we added crooked sticks and, for color, we added some feathery, red-leaved flowers. It turned out absolutely lovely. I’m so pleased, and I feel so proud, even if Suzie did most of the work!

I’m feeling better. In fact, my cousin, Shirley, and I had lunch out today with another writer I met last month. The truth is, I don’t know of any virus that good Mexican food can’t cure. The mere thought of a chili relleno was enough to get me off my sick bed. It revived me. Can’t you picture it? I’m on my deathbed, doctors are gathered in my hospital room, discussing my condition, when Wayne, my hero, steps into the room and calmly announces, “I’ll cure her.” With that he whips out a take-out box and uses it like smelling salts. It's a miracle . . . I’m alive and well and asking if he remembered the salsa

Wayne and I are back from Phoenix. To show you how much these two Seattleites influenced Arizona, it rained while we were there. Rain–after 143 days of no rain. Not only did it rain, the temperature dropped way past my comfort zone. Silly me, I was expecting sunshine and warmth and didn’t even think to pack a sweater.

We’re back in Florida now and warm once again, although I’m fighting a sore throat and a bad cold. Not to worry, I’m being good to myself. I'm watching the missed episodes of American Idol and drinking lots of hot tea.

We're still luxuriating in the seafood in our retreat. Tonight we're planning on Sea Bass. The next thing you'll know, we'll be looking at oceanfront property! (Big smile).

We arrived early so that we could have the chance to visit with my mother's brother and sister this afternoon. It was a treat to see them. Things are cooling down a bit here in Phoenix. The temperature is in the 60s and I'm wearing a jacket.

After a long, five-hour flight, Wayne and I have landed in Arizona. We settled into our resort hotel, then enjoyed lunch at the restaurant. We decided on the Arizona Cobb Salad. I'd like to paint a picture for you here: we're in Arizona, a desert state, which is not near any large body of water. What do you suppose was in the cobb salad? Shrimp! And it was wonderful!

Now we're headed off to take a nap before the meetings start.