Merry Christmas! My office staff and I are only here a half day and then we're having our own small party and gift exchange. Wayne and I will gather with our children and grandchildren Christmas Eve Day for a full day of festivities before we leave for our home in Florida. There's no better time of year than right now to thank all my readers for their continued support. Merry Christmas, everyone. Celebrate. Enjoy. Cherish.

I have an appointment to get my hair cut. It's far more practical to keep it short while we're in Florida, although Wayne grouses a bit. I don't know what it is about men and long hair. To put it mildly, I'm no Rapunzel. To the best of my knowledge, I've never had hair longer than the top of my shoulders. I did toy with the idea of extensions at one time but for a variety of reasons decided against that.

Being a good wife, I asked my dear husband's opinion. "What would you like me to look like?" In retrospect, I understand that was a leading question. Wayne's reply—and, friends, he was dead serious: "I want you to look like you did the day we were married." I kid you not. So I looked at him sweetly and said, "That's okay. I want you to look like the day we were married, too."

We've had kids and grandkids staying with us ever since the big storm last Thursday. Jenny and her three have come and gone throughout the week. Ted and his family landed first, followed by Jody and her two. Then on Saturday Dale and Laurie arrived. Thankfully, Wayne and I had power, which spelled hot showers; a washing machine, and, most prized of all, a DVD player. These items were sheer luxuries for those without electricity. Jenny and her three kids were the last of our brood to have their power restored, enduring four days in the dark until she could bear it no longer. I am happy to report the power is back, and life has returned to normal. Well, almost.

I know many of you are curious about the huge storm that hit the Pacific Northwest last Thursday night. We sustained hurricane force winds that toppled trees and power lines. We lost electricity even before the brunt of the storm hit and I've made a rather startling discovery about myself: I am no Laura Ingalls Wilder. As far as I'm concerned, pioneer women are highly underappreciated. I did make the best of it though, and headed to the mall (where it was warm). "Tis the season," you know.

On Wednesday the wonderful ladies in my Breakfast Club and I went to view the Dead Sea Scrolls in Seattle. The entire adventure can be summed up in one word: INCREDIBLE. Can you even imagine looking down on Scripture that had been penned on goat hides over 2000 years ago? Almost the entire book of Isaiah has been preserved. Parts of the Psalms and even a few that haven't been included in our Bible have been found. I learned so much and came away in awe. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend my Wednesday.

Yesterday I hosted my annual Christmas Knitters Tea. This afternoon my swimming friends are gathering at my house for our annual Swimmers Christmas Tea. With the swimmers it's always a surprise to see what everyone looks like with clothes on. In fact, it's something of a shock–especially for us women–when we have our hair curled and our make-up on. Don't let anyone tell you it doesn't make a difference.

I first hosted this tea about ten years ago and invited only my lady friends. Then I heard that the guys felt left out. Now it's both male and female. We chatter like magpies and enjoy our special friendship. Hey, if I'm going to decorate five Christmas trees and put out 23 Nativity scenes, then I'm going to show them off!

My weekend was nuts with one meeting, a party, a gathering and a Progressive Dinner piled on top of the other. Christmas gets like that for me, and while I love all the socializing, it can be draining, too.

I paused to catch my breath this morning when I came into the office and opened my mail. Inside was a lovely Christmas card personally signed by 23 of our young men and women in Iraq to thank me for mailing off a few of my books to lighten their load. I had tears in my eyes as I read their notes of appreciation. The irony is they were thanking me. They're the ones away from home and family this holiday season. The ones standing on the line facing death and danger. I can't tell you how deeply touched I am by the fine men and women of our Armed Forces.

My daughters, daughters-in-law, granddaughters and I are all getting together tonight for our annual Mother/Daughter Slumber Party. Actually, it isn't really a slumber party. We did stay up all night one year, but I decided that I was too old and cranky to do it again. What we do is this: we gather together and make cookies, candy, and dry-mix goodies to give away to family and friends. At the end of the evening we divide everything up. This year we're completely dispensing with cookies and going directly to stirring up drink mixes, soup and casserole mixes in glass jars, and dipping plastic spoons in melted chocolate to create chocolate spoons. We always have a wonderful time. Traditions are important for families, and this is one of my personal favorites.

I'm wearing a new jacket today; one that I purchased a while ago. They didn't actually have it in my size, so I purchased the next size down, with the expectation I would lose weight. The truth is I can button it . . . but I can't button it and breathe properly or sit down. I tried it on and modeled it for Wayne this morning, buttoned, and he said I looked like I was suffering from a gas attack. I got the message. I have on a lovely, unfastened jacket. Perhaps no one will notice there's a big gap between the two sides.

This afternoon I'm meeting with one of my favorite readers' groups in Tacoma, led by Bev Estep. It's become a tradition that I stop by once a year and meet the 50+ members; this time it’s in December. I always enjoy talking to readers because I was a reader long before I became a writer. In the course of our conversations I learn what these women are reading and enjoying and always come away inspired with new ideas. Besides, they feed me. Friends, books, pizza and laughter–can you imagine a better way to spend an afternoon?