Twice this week I've been asked how Wayne and I happened to meet. It's an interesting story and shows once again God's hand in my life.

It was the summer of 1968, and I was living in a huge house in West Seattle with a group of about seven or eight other girls. I had a date and was all dressed and ready to go when my date called and cancelled.

No more than fifteen minutes later Wayne phoned and asked for Neater. (I can't remember her real name but we called her Neater because she was neater than the rest of us.) Neater was out for the evening. Wayne and I started talking, and he asked if I'd like to go to a movie. I was already dressed, so I said yes. We married one year later on September 7th. That was the start of 38 wonderful years together, and counting!

We are having the most incredible weather for Seattle. I know, I know. You're probably thinking, "My goodness, Debbie has been reduced to blogging about the weather." I understand, and while it's true all my creative energy is going into writing BACK ON BLOSSOM STREET, the weather is worthy of a mention because it's been absolutely glorious all week. On Monday we broke an all-time record with 90 degrees. You can't imagine how difficult it's been to stay indoors. So every evening I've been working in the yard, watering my garden, talking to my plants, and trimming the roses. The sunshine invigorates me.

My class reunion is coming up next month, so I've been dieting. I'll never again weigh what I did in high school, but then, I never was all that svelte.

In a burst of optimism I recently purchased several pairs of cotton pants a full size down from what I'm currently wearing. I tried on a pair this morning, and—surprise, surprise—they fit. Well, almost. I could get them over my hips and still walk—breathing was a bit of a problem, but I figured it would do my self-esteem good and possibly stretch the cotton a bit, so I wore them. What I didn't count on. . . . how can I put this delicately . . . was the time it took to lower said drawers for bathroom trips.

I received a forwarded email from a friend yesterday that showed pictures of actual signs that were hilarious. Everyone needs a good laugh, and I enjoy stuff like this. It got me to thinking about a service station in Yakima, Washington, when I was growing up. The gas station was one of those places where they sold hamburgers, ice cream and other goodies, too. The sign out front—I'm not making this up—said EAT HERE AND GET GAS.

Wayne and I were off to Walla Walla, Washington this weekend on a wine tour, where, as you might have guessed, we purchased far too much wine. What I found utterly amazing is that a lot of the wine is produced by young men and women. Really young. Wayne has underwear older than some of these prominent winemakers. These entrepreneurs are doing what they love, and it shows. Now Wayne and I get to savor their multiple talents.

After weeks of "discussing" how to decorate the media room we've added onto our house, Wayne and I compromised and brought in a professional, Betty Manry, who is both friend and decorator.

We each presented our ideas. I was sure I was the smarter. I had a very distinct idea of how I wanted that room to look. Wayne had his own ideas and, with a flourish, mapped it all out, walking from one end of the room to the other. Betty listened intently to us both, took out her tape measure, and then created a computer program with the schematics of the room. Her decision: neither of our ideas would work. (So much for me being the smarter!) At the end of her visit Betty explained that she charged for the decorating advice, but the marriage counseling was free.

I can't resist. Call me a silly Grandma, but I don't care. As I have repeatedly mentioned, I have the cutest grandkids in the universe. Indulge me for just a moment so I can tell you about two-year-old Isaiah.

Our neighbors have horses and Isaiah and I walked down to the pasture, because this kid is absolutely nuts about horses. Both Foxy and Haley (the horses) were in the middle of the pasture, and I couldn't find a way to lure them to the fence. I waved, jumped up and down, called their names, and promised them goodies. The two ignored me and continued grazing. At one point, Foxy looked up and snorted as if to say he was bored with me and wished I'd go away. After about ten minutes (which felt like thirty) I gave up and explained to Isaiah that I couldn't convince the horses to come visit. And you know what my precious two-year-old grandson said? He looked at me with those big brown eyes of his and said, "Bummer!"

Fashion models are underpaid and underappreciated. How would I know, you ask? Because yesterday I spent a large majority of the day having new publicity photos taken. My friend and fashion consultant, Sandy O'Donnell, accompanied me. I changed clothes five times and traipsed in and out of doors for different backgrounds. I think Pete Saloutos, the photographer, is brilliant. We left Port Orchard at 8:30 a.m. and returned home around 3 p.m.

I had just enough energy to crawl up the stairs to my office and read the mail and guestbook entries before heading home. I picked up dinner on the way home: comfort food—in other words, nothing nutritional. If not for Wayne, I would have gone to bed by eight. The next time you pick up a magazine and admire the model, just remember, looking glamorous isn't nearly as easy as it might seem.

What happened while I was Las Vegas is a hundred-play video poker machine. What stayed behind is my money. I'd have been better off writing a check to the casino and leaving. Well, almost.

Actually, Wayne and I had a wonderful time and some excellent meals. It's good for the two of us to escape every now and again, and, while I was there, I spoke at a Senior Center in Henderson with my friend Robyn Carr, who is always fun. Then on Monday evening, I autographed books at the Barnes & Noble off Rainbow in Las Vegas. I always enjoy the opportunity to meet my readers and I appreciate those who made the effort to turn out for the events.

I'm ready! I have my walking shoes on, a raincoat and umbrella in the car just in case, and a water bottle, too. My office staff and I are walking in the Port Orchard Relay for Life cancer walk this evening through tomorrow. I'm a corporate sponsor, and proud of it. Renate will walk tomorrow morning and Heidi, Renate's assistant, is taking the early morning hours from midnight to 5 a.m.—God love her.

Wanda Roberts, the office financial manager, who set all this up, deserves a lot of credit and appreciation. She even managed to rope my two daughters and four of the grandkids into collecting donations and hoofing it. I am blessed with a wonderful, supportive staff, in and out of the office.