New York, New York

We'll get back to first lines soon, but I'm winging my way to New York tomorrow morning and most likely won't have much time to be online or write posts. So stay tuned!

Until then, here are some New York tidbits for you:

Grand Central Freeze

Subway Hero

Extreme Sightseeing

New York, A Wonderful Town!


Peace.

Karen

The End of the Story--Monday...

Monday dawns, bright and early. And I do mean EARLY. My wake-up call jangles at 6 am, which means I got almost 4 hrs of sleep. I stagger from bed, anticipating a nice, hot wake-up shower, when memory collides with hopes. Ah yes. The only thing I'm going to get from my shower is lukewarm dribble. I immediately call front desk. "The shower on/off handle is installed backward," I tell them. "Can you please have it fixed today so I can get hot water with pressure? If not, I'll need a different room."

"No problem," say they. "We'll have it fixed right away." Finally, good news.

* I make it to the office for the mtg. What's that? It's been pushed back to 9? So you're saying I could have had an extra hour of sleep. But I'm not bitter. Not a bit.
Now...where's the coffee??

* First meeting goes from 9 to noon. Grab a quick lunch and on to next meeting from noon to 4, then next meeting from 4-6:30. Then back to my temporary desk to deal with a day's worth of emails and calls. Hit hotel around 8 pm, ready for a hot shower. Which would have been possible if they'd fixed the thing! Water still lukewarm, still dribbling. On/off handle still backward. I draw a deep breath and call the front desk again.

"Oh, that's right. We'll send someone right up."

* I now am in desperate need of comfort food, so order my fav: Chinese. Arrives around 9 pm. What hasn't arrived is anyone to fix shower. Call desk again. "I need a different room," says I.
"We'll send him right up," says they and the phone goes dead.

I hang up and there is, indeed, a knock on my door. The guy comes in and walks to the shower muttering, "It's usually a setting on the shower head that makes it hard to get water." I start to tell him that's not the problem, when he reaches in and messes with the shower head, turns on the water, and grins at me in triumph when water comes out nice and strong. I stand there. Staring. His grin fades.

"It's not getting water that's the problem," says I. "Stick your hand in there."

He does so. Frowns. "It's cold."

To my credit, I don't utter the "DUH!" that screams in my head. "The on/off handle is installed backwards," says I.

He examines it, turns it this way and that, and turns to me. "It's backwards."

"Yes, it is," I reply, too weary and hungry by then to be angry.

"It'll need to be reinstalled."

"Yes, it will," I say, now somewhat faint from hunger.

He turns it off, then eases it on, feeling for hot water. When dribble turns warm, he says, "Is that warm enough?"

Really? You want me to say I'll shower for a week in a dribble? Are you out of your-- Breathe. Relax. I step forward and feel. "No. And there's not enough pressure."

He pushes it a smidge. "How about that?"

I don't even stick my hand out this time. Just fix him with a look. "No."

"I'll get someon--"

"No."

He stops, stares at me.

I grab my suitcase and start packing. "I need a different room."

"But we can--"

"--get me a new room." I straighten. Look at him. I don't raise my voice, don't let anger out. Just look at him. "Now."

Okay, so something came through ( ) because the poor man pales slightly and steps back. "I'll see about that new room right now."

Forty-five minutes later, I'm in my new room (which I know has a working shower because the guy who came to "fix" the one in my old room makes a beeline for the shower in my new room and makes sure it's working, bless his pea-pickin' heart), warming up my Chinese food. So what if it's past 10 pm. I'm hungry. I settle onto the couch, take a bite, waiting for those flavors I love to ease my tension...and grimace. Two more bites and it's confirmed. Worst Chinese food I've ever had. Totally disgusting. How lovely that I'd ordered extra so I'd have dinner the next night ready and waiting when I got back to the hotel. Everything goes in the trash. I eat the apple I'd brought on the plane and go to bed. Begging God for better days ahead.

Happily, those better days arrived. The rest of my trip went really well, as did the rest of my meetings. And the flight home last Saturday went like clockwork. Both flights left when they were supposed do, and I landed at home without mishap or delay, utterly delighted to be home.

So what, you ask, was the purpose of all this?? Well, I actually have an answer for you.

I've had really bad travel days before. I'm ashamed to say I didn't always handle them. I'm way too prone, when I get tired and hungry and frustrated, to let my emotions rule. This time, though, all that was held in check. Every time an unkind tone or word inched toward my lips, I remembered those people on the plane with me from Medford to Denver, and then Denver to N'ville. Those folks who were also delayed and inconvenienced, but who handled it with humor. (Yes, sometimes the humor was just this side of desperation, but it was humor all the same.) Their attitudes stayed positive and that made it all bearable for all of us. By God's grace, their examples stuck with me and for once I didn't give in to irritation. I didn't focus on me and my woes, thereby making things worse, not just for me, but for everyone. Even when I'd hit the wall with the hotel and told them I needed a new room, I didn't do so in anger. I was firm, but not angry.

So though those were some of the worst travel days I've ever had, they lack something that past travel days have had in abundance.

Regret.

I can look back on those days and, as horrid as they were, they don't weigh down today. I don't have to wish, deep in my heart, that I could apologize to anyone. Rather, I can smile at the moments of shared laughter. I can thank God for the glimpses of shared mercy. And I can even feel good about times I reached out to help or comfort others. There's no bitter taste in my mouth--or spirit--for things I said or did. Just the succulent flavor of grace and gratitude.

My next trip will come in about three weeks, and while I don't like leaving home again so soon, it's okay. Because I've seen what God can do when you let Him, and I know that even if more Horrid Days await, I don't have to go through them alone. Nor do I have to walk away from them defeated.

By His grace, you and I can meet those days determined to show kindness and grace. And if we do that, no matter how horrid a day or experience, we can walk away in peace and freedom.

Wishing both for you today.

Karen

The Rest of the Story--Sunday Night

So I'm finally in Nashville, and I finally have my bags. Okay, it's late. Almost 10:30 pm. But hey, all I have to do is find my rental car and get to my hotel. I've rented cars from this place 4-5 times a year for the past two years, and it always goes smooth. So no worries. I gather my bags, step out of the terminal planning to cross the street to the car rental office, and realize it's cold. I mean...COLD! Frigid! Guess where my coat is. Yup, in my suitcase. After, it's N'ville. The South! Isn't it supposed to be warm here?? Lo and behold, they were having a cold snap. Subzero with wind chill.

Welcome to the South.

I can't even wrap my arms around myself for warmth because I'm pushing the cart with my luggage. So I hotfoot it across the street, look at the board that announces the slot where my car is waiting for me, ready to go. I shiver down the aisles, teeth starting to chatter, and find my slot.

It's empty. No car. At that point I'd have gone for a bicycle. A pair of skates. SOMEthing. But there's nada. So I turn around and make my now frostbitten way back to the office. And that's where even more fun begins:

Car rental agent radios to find my car. As I'm waiting I glance at the receipt she gave me and discover they messed up my bill. Charged me taxes when my company is tax-exempt in Tennessee. They've done that every time, and I've had them--and corporate of the car rental company--make a note that they're not to do it. More phone calls. "I'm going to make a note on your profile," says the agent. Exact comment agents have made every time. I just smile and thank her.

Taxes are removed when she receives a radio call. She turns to me. "Your car is in your slot."

I frown. At this point, I wouldn't doubt I was seeing things that weren't really there...but NOT seeing things that WERE there? "I was just out there. I could swear the slot was empty."

"No, the slot next to yours was empty. But the car's in your slot."

Off my bags and I go again. I walk to the slot, staring at the numbers, and...

The car's there. Okay, it's official. I've gone totally 'round the bend.

Happily, the car they've given me is nice and new. Unhappily, it has no ignition slot for the key. I stare from the key in my hand to the dash and back again. What the...? Oh, there's a push button on the dash that says start. You start the thing with a push button? I'd never driven a car that started with a push button. Didn't know HOW to start a car with a push button. I try everything I can think of, all to no avail.

AARRRGGGHHHH!!!

Okay. Deep breath. Once more. Now, out of the car I go, trudge back to the office--still sans coat, thank you--wait for someone to come to the desk, then make a plaintive plea: "How, exactly, does one start this car??" Rental agent looks at me like I'm balmy, then the light goes on.

"Oh, you got the push-button start, huh?"

I nod, feeling and, I'm sure, looking totally pathetic. The woman takes mercy on me and walks to my car to show me. Aha! Have to have the foot on the brake when you push the button. We both shake our heads, comment about some "improvements" being more trouble than they're worth, and I finally am on my way. That, I tell myself, is the last hassle I'll deal with tonight.

Silly me.

I reach the hotel, where I've stayed 4-5 times a year for the past two years, so everything should go smooth. It does, until I reach my room, a little before 1 a.m. I get unpacked, then head for the shower to let hot, pounding water relax me so I can get a few hours sleep before getting up at 6 a.m. for an 8 a.m. meeting with the company leadership team. Just one problem. Shower doesn't work. On/Off handle installed backwards, so hot water comes on as soon as I turn it on, but pressure is a dribble. When I turn it to get pressure, water is ice-cold. I have Fibro. I need pressure and hot water to aleve pain. Dribbles of lukewarm water just don't cut it. Turn off shower and crawl into bed at 1:30 a.m.. Lie there, staring at ceiling, fluctuating between urge to weep or laugh hysterically, until almost 2 when sleep mercifully takes me away.

So endeth Day One of my Great Travel Adventure. As sleep ushers me beyond this horrid day, I smile. Because the Horrid Day is over. It's on to better days.

They don't call me a dreamer for nuthin'.

The Rest of the Story--Almost

Okay, so here's more of my horrid travel tale. As I said at the end of my last blog, I made my way to the gate in Denver to await my flight.

And await.

And await.

And...get the picture??

Now, lest you think all we did was sit, let me clarify. The flight was supposed to leave around 6:05 or so. Around 7 they finally said it was time to board. So down the flight bridge we went. I was actually first in line, and as I approached the plane I saw something I'd never, in over 20 years of flying, seen before. The plane was dark.

As in pitch black.

Just as I peer in the doorway, the pilot sticks his head out of the cockpit, sees me, and starts shaking his head. "Oh, no no no. What you are guys doing here? We're not even close to ready!"
So we all about-face, and head back up the flight bridge to the gate area, where the gate agent apologizes profusely and ushers us all back to our seats.

To wait.

And WAIT.

Hey, here's an interesting tidbit of info. Did you know you need a big power cord to plug the plane into so they can start the engine? I didn't either. But wouldn't you think the airline folks would know and make sure this cord was present and accounted for? Yuh huh. Unfortunately, not only was our plane's cord missing, they couldn't find an extra one anywhere in the terminal. ANYWHERE! So there we sat, waiting. And when the co-pilot came out to sit with us because he was freezing because the plane had NO POWER which meant no heat...well, we all lost it. Laughed so hard we were crying.
(Okay, I confess some of us were bordering on hysterical, but hey, we were still laughing!)

I mean, it was so ridiculous, we couldn't help it. The co-pilot actually went back on the plane and came back out to sit with us three times. Well, they did eventually find the cord, and we did eventually arrive in N'ville. At 10:30 pm. A mere NINE HOURS later than my original arrival time.

Happily, my bags were waiting for me in the United baggage office. I could see them, sitting right there, next to the glass door. Unhappily, the office was closed. Lights out. No one in sight.

I leaned my forehead on the glass, closed my eyes, and sighed. Please...

I lifted one hand and knocked. Much to my amazement, a woman came trotting from the back and pulled the door open. I was so grateful I almost wept. She smiled and ushered me inside, speaking words of gentle comfort. Who knew a United baggage office could be an oasis? I found refreshment in her demeanor, and when I walked out with my bags, her, "Have a great night!" lifted my heart even more. Such simple words; such power to ease a weary heart.

Surely, you say, that was it. Your trip horrors were over. Oh, that I could say it were so. But I can't, as you'll see in the next blog. But what I can say is that in all that came after the flight, after all those delays and the change of route and more delays, is this:

As strong as frustration and anger can be, positive attitudes and kindness are far more powerful. And they're contagious. I was weary, yes. I was even frustrated. But the faces and laughter I'd seen that day stayed with me. The compassion. The reaching out instead of focusing inward. And each time I came close to losing it, I remembered what I'd seen that day, and chose instead to respond as they had. Amazingly, though the circumstances didn't necessarily improve, it was okay. Tiring, yes. Even frustrating. But my usual companion in such situations--anger--never joined me. And I have to say, looking back on it now, that was a blessing. Because anger brings its own baggage with it. Baggage that's so much heavier than anything else, that weighs you down and drags you in the mud.

And, almost always, splashes that mud on everyone you meet.

To go through a day like that and actually be at peace...that, friends, wasn't just a miracle. It was one of the greatest blessings I've ever experienced.

Karen

A Tale of Two Cities...Four Airports...One Car Rental...and One Hotel

Brace yourselves.

Once upon a time there was a happy-go-lucky editor who traveled. A lot. Who, when she began her adventure in publishing, loved to travel. Who, in the last year alone, sailed into the wild blue on fourteen--count 'em, FOURTEEN--long trips. (Who, in the last few years, no longer loves it, but deals.) But in her 26 years in publishing, our weary traveler found a flight partner that always treated her well: United. Yes, others have bewailed United's many faults, but for our intrepid traveler, this airline seldom let her down. They were her heroes in the sky.

Our traveler had actually been home for two whole months, but last Sunday saw her first trip of the new year arrive. And so she arose in the wee hours of Sunday morning (4:15 AM!), loaded her bags into her trusty van, and, her sweet hubby at the wheel, made her way to the Rogue Valley International Airport, where she boarded her plane and sailed off into the skies. Her flight landed, right on time, in Denver, where she caught her lovely direct connection to Nashville, sailed into the skies again, and landed at her destination without a single problem. Ah, life was good.

Or it would have been, had that been the case. Sigh... Now let me give you the real story. Part 1 today, the rest to come. Yeah, it's been a long couple of days...

But first, let me 'splain a bit about the Rogue Valley International Airport (RVIA), the airport I fly out of (out of which I fly...? Whatever). It's small. Okay, maybe tiny is a better word. Roughly 30,000 sq. ft housing a gift shop, a coffee kiosk, a few car rental desks, the ticket counters for United, Delta, SkyWest, and a charter business. Oh, and the gate area. Yup, one. You went through the small security line to the holding area, where all the airlines loaded through two doors. Although, we DID get an airbridge a few years ago. And the bathroom was a nice addition to the gate area a couple years back. That way you didn't have to go through security again to get back in after leaving to use the restroom. And hey, that coffee pot in the holding area was usually kept full. Usually.

Well! All that changed this month. RVIA built a new terminal! Complete with separate gates for the different airlines, streamlined security, arrival and departure boards, a restaurant both outside and within the gate area, and even two floors! We got an escalator, folks! There's even a nice observation deck for friends and family to watch the planes depart. So my flight on Sunday came about a week after the new airport terminal opened. Fun to see all the improvement.

Pity those improvements didn't also apply to their procedures.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m., which meant I was up at 4:15. That's A.M., folks! I got to the sparkly new terminal, walked in, and was met by a line almost as long as our fancy new 100K sq.ft., $35 million terminal. The check-in kiosks weren't working. Well, not until I'd waited in line for a half hour. And the two people at the check-in desk--TWO--moved the line along at a snail's pace. Happily, two more United folks joined the fray at check-in as flight departure times approached. Unhappily, the line moved even more slowly because they fixed the check-in kiosks and those folks got to jump in front of those of us in line to get their bag tags. But I'm not bitter. I'm NOT!

I finally made it through check-in, then went on to security. That actually went well, so I was finally in the new gate area. Fun, fun! Even a big, fancy coffee place waiting for me. Coffee clutched in hand, I made my way to the sparkly new restroom. Hmmm. Three stalls. One of which wasn't working. Okaaaay...more lines. More waiting. Got out to the waiting area, and waited some more. Listened as the United folks radioed back and forth about why they weren't ready to load us yet. Scheduled loading time sailed past. And still we sat. Twenty minutes later, we were finally lined up and ready.

To walk outside. Down some icy steps. And make our way around the old terminal (in 29 degree weather, thank you. SO glad I packed my coat. In my suitcase...). Apparently plans are to raze the old building. Just hasn't been done yet. Happily I survived the frigid hike and sank into my seat. My aisle seat in the bulkhead, which I always try to get because of the Fibromyalgia that makes flying painful. , they had a little problem getting the bags for the flight. A 45-minute problem. Guess whose time between connections in Denver was 50 minutes? Guess whose flight landed in Denver 5 min. after her connection took wing. Yuh-huh. Still not bitter. Really.

Twenty minutes at the United desk in Denver, during which time I tried to comfort a woman who burst into tears when she was told there was no way to get her to her destination by the time she needed to be there--I had my new boarding passes. Yes, PASSES! My direction connection to Nashville didn't happen again until 7 pm, which would put me in at 11 pm, 9 hours later than my original arrival time of 1:47 pm. Hence, the new itin sent me through Chicago, where I'd have an hour to dash to my connection flight to N'ville. Oh goody. It's SO easy to get from one end of O'Hare to the other... I pointed out to the agent that that wasn't much time. She gave me that bright customer-service smile and chimed, "Oh, you'll have plenty of time."

A quick and pointed response crossed my mind--and was summarily relegated to the now-crowded back recesses with the rest of the violent urges I'd stuffed away that day. I smile and say, "I'll trust you." Then make my way to the waiting area. To wait.

So, you may ask, did you make it? When did you get to Nashville? Well! Stay tuned, and I'll tell you all about it. But before I sign off, let me tell you what surprised me most about this day. Not the problems. Not even the lack of customer service or care. What surprised me was the attitudes of those with me on those planes.

I've had terrible flights before. Long delays. Frustrating rerouting. And almost always the people who are suffering along with me are one thing:

ANGRY!

On Sunday, though, I didn't hear one angry word. Not from anyone. In fact, we found ourselves laughing. (Okay, at times it verged on hysterical, but still!) And, as I did with the crying woman, I saw people trying to comfort others who were distressed. It was kind of amazing. And it was more encouraging that I can say.

I learned something that I've always known, but never seen demonstrated in such abundance: Attitude is contagious. The old adage (shared with me by the venerable Steve Laube) "Don't get emotionally involved in things you can't physically change" was evident in those people's actions and reactions. Instead of fuming over what should be, how they were being inconvenienced, how terrible this or that was, they commiserated, they comforted where they could, and they were patient with the airline personnel and each other. While I had moments of wanting to scream, I never gave in. And, more often than not, I found myself just shaking my head and laughing along with the others. Rueful laughter, to be sure. But laughter all the same. Which left me, at the end of the day, in a pretty good mood.

And when you hear the rest of the story, you'll see what a true miracle that was!



Karen

On the Road Again

I know, I know, I haven't filled you in on the rest of Mount Hermon yet, but I'm on to the next trip already. Had the joy of speaking at a women's retreat--a group of delightful gals came down from the Roseburg, Oregon area so I could be their speaker...how cool!--Friday and Saturday, then it was home, finish packing, jump into bed at almost midnight, and up again at 4 a.m. this morning. My flight left Medford at 6 am! Eek! Oh well, good thing I can sleep on planes.
I almost always make sure I have an aisle seat when I fly. If I have an asthma attack, I really don't care to climb over people to the aisle. But with going on this weekend, I forgot. Bleah. So guess what I had on the 5 hour flight from SanFran to Charlotte, North Carolina? Yup. A center seat. I contemplated getting all worked up about it, but for one thing, it was my own silly fault.

For another, I'm trying not to do that anymore. Get worked up and make people miserable because I don't get my way.

Giving up being a princess is SO hard.

So, I get on the plane. My first surprise: the seats are wider than I expected. COOL! I won't be pressing legs with a stranger after all. Well, hopefully not. With the bit of extra seat space I ask God if He would mind terribly letting the people on either side of me be skinny. Hey, one "fluffy" person in a row is plenty. Sure enough, a tiny woman who I figured was in college slid past me into the window seat. And a tall, thin guy took the aisle seat.

DOUBLE cool.

I settle back in my seat, glance at the woman on my right, and smile. She smiles back. A genuine smile, not one of those "oh, please, please, please don't try to talk to me" pained smiles. Of course. the airline has overbooked the flight, and people are frantic trying to get their luggage in the overhead bins, and the airline is offering two round trips per person if you'll please get OFF this plane so we have seats for everyone...

Well, you know what people are like nowdays when they fly. Generally NOT in good moods. And they were in rare form today. So much so that the pilot came down the aisle, scolding everyone, telling them that we were going to miss our "pushback" window and we'd have to sit there for 45 minute until another window opened up so "sit down and FASTEN YOUR BELTS!"

Shades of my dad hollering up the stairs at me and my teenage friends when we wouldn't quiet down during a sleepover.

But hey, it worked. People were suddenly in their seats, and we were on our way. I glanced at the woman in the window seat again, and we moved into conversation. And stayed there. Almost the entire trip. I found out she's a sales rep of sorts for a small vineyard in Sonoma County. That she travels EVERY WEEK. (Oh, my heart. Even in my prime I couldn't have done that.) And that she was a bright, funny, intelligent young woman of 28. (Man! Why couldn't I look that great at 28??) It was great! We talked about all kinds of things, and before I knew it we were descending into Charlotte. The flight I'd been dreading was over. And though we had a bumpy landing, I was relaxed and grateful.

That's how it usually works, huh? When you just relax, when you remember God's in control and getting in a snit doesn't help anyone, your mind and heart are open to the little serendipities, the little blessings, God has for you along the way. And you know what? I feel great tonight. Tired, yes. Ready to crash. (Hey, I normally only get up at 4 a.m. to go fishing!) But in my heart, my spirit, I feel rested.

Even refreshed.

And the best part of it all? No regrets to nudge me in the middle of the night and point out what
a brat I am. So I'm looking forward to a good, restful night's sleep.

Amazing how nice it is to have a clear conscience for a change. I'm gonna have to do this more often.

Blessings to you today.

Karen

More Notes from the Road

Wonderful, wonderful Palm Sunday service here. It's been a bit cold, but we sat outside anyway. I snapped a shot to show you what it looks like where we were sitting, at the back of the auditoriumand realized I caught Robin Jones Gunn, Patsy Clairmont, and Jan Silvious sitting there on the second bench/pew from the back (Robin's peeking behind Patsy to grin at me, Jan's on the other side of Patsy). (Okay, okay, the picture's so small you can't tell it's them. Trust me. It is. Really!) Anyway, it was nice outside. We could hear everything from inside the auditorium, and we got to listen to the wind whispering through the Redwoods all through the service. At one point I looked up and the tops of the trees seemed to be dancing as we lifted our voices in songs of praise. What an amazing setting for thanking God for all He's done for us.

Now, you notice the blue sky in the background? First day we arrived here, Dave Talbott, the conference host, warned us that bad weather was on it's way. Not just cold, but by Sunday we'd be clobbered with hail! Were we worried? Not on your life. We just said we'd pray the bad weather away. Mount Hermon has that effect on people. All this beauty in nature around us reminds who is really in control. So we determined to pray the bad weather away. The temp dipped, but every day so far here's what we've seen:


We've had blue skies and even some sunshine. Not a single hailstone has shown up. Yay!

I'll fill you in on more of Mount Hermon later. For now, let's get back to our adventures on our way to the conference grounds. As I said, Robin and Marion were coming in a day later than planned, so Julee and I stayed another day with Francine, Rick, and dear ol' Shabah. So Wednesday dawned bright and early, bringing another call from Robin. The doctor told her she was in no shape to travel, so she couldn't come to SanFran to play with us. After some weeping and wailing and whining on our part, we told Robin of course she should stay home the extra few days to gain strength before coming to the writers' conference. We promised to take good care of Marion, rang off, loaded up the car, and hit the road for SanFran.

On the drive down Julee, who'd met Marion when she went to England last year with Robin, regaled me with stories of Marion. "You'll love her! Just watch for a pixie of a woman with a crown of white hair and a lovely smile."

An hour or so later, we'd arrived at our hotel, The Stanford Court, which was ensconced on Nob Hill. With an hour or so until Marion's planned arrival, at which time we'd hie ourselves across the street to tea at the Fairmont hotel, Julee and I went to check the lay of the land. The cable car stop was right on the corner, so we hopped aboard (I kept waiting for the Rice-a-Roni song to start!), and rode down the hill to the financial district. Happy day, there were Starbuck's galore! So we stocked up on coffee, walked around a smidge, then back on the cable car to go await Marion.

Well, her arrival time came. And left. An hour past the scheduled arrival, I went to cancel the tea. I mean, sure, Marion would probably be game to try and make it. After all, she's English and tea is always welcome. But Julee and I talked it over and we figured after the storms, delayed flights, possible turbulence on the LONG flight over, she just might prefer a bit of a rest.

As I was turning from the concierge's desk, in walked someone who fit Julee's description to a 'T' walked in. It was Marion, and she was all Julee has said and more. Fun, in a far better mood than I would be after all she'd endured, and game for an adventure. So once she was settled in her room, we made our way back to the cable cars and went on to Fisherman's Warf. We walked and talked and soon felt like fast friends. Dinner was at Bubba Gumps--Yummy!--and then we grabbed a cab back to the hotel. Now, I must confess that the cab was...well...okay, let's be honest. DISGUSTING! I don't know what the stains on the seat were, nor did I ask. But short of levitating, there was no way to avoid sitting on them. Once we got back to the hotel we agreed. No more cabs! Some adventures just didn't deserve repeating.

I'll share more tomorrow, but the night is wearing on and I lead early morning worship here at Mount Hermon. Which means hitting the hay far earlier than usual to ensure I'm at least somewhat coherent at 7 a.m.

Blessings to you!

Karen

Notes from the Road

Wow, never meant to be out of touch this long. It's been a whirlwind trip so far. We had a great drive down to California. BEAUTIFUL weather, safe travel, and loads of conversation. Usually Julee and I put the music on, crank it up, and bop our way across whatever state we're in. I'd even loaded a CD holder with all the right genres, which basically is a mix of everything. But it's been awhile since we've been together, and we were so deep in conversation 5 hours had passed and we hadn't even looked at the CDs. I can't wait for the drive back home on Tuesday. So much has happened, you know we'll talk nonstop for the 7 1/2 hours home. (Probably a mercy to our hubbies that we've got those hours to talk ourselves out...)

We got on the road, Dutch Brother's coffee clutched in our paws, nice and early Sunday morning. Pulled into the driveway at Francine and Rick Rivers's home around 4:30 that afternoon. We'd planned on spending the night there, enjoying Francine and Rick's company, then it was on to San Francisco to meet author Robin Jones Gunn and a friend from England, Marion Stroud. Marion had never been in SanFran before, so we were all going to give her the grand tour for the next two days.

Well, best laid plans, and all that.

The worst storm in 20 years clobbered England, so Marion's flight was canceled. We were notified of this fact by a basso profundo Robin, who also informed us she had the respiratory flu and would also be flying in a day later. No worries, though. That gave us another day with Francine and Rick! We had a wonderful time talking and laughing, and playing with their dear German Shepherd, Shabah. He's 11 now, and his hind legs aren't cooperating so well...reminded me of my darlin' Bo. So it was a kind of bittersweet time, since it's entirely likely he won't be around a lot longer. But I had a blast playing with him all the same. He followed me to bed each night, toy in his massive mouth, big brown eyes pleading. I'd send him out of the room, only to have him peek around the corner, ever hopeful. You gotta love dogs!

Oops! Palm Sunday service here at Mount Hermon is about to begin. No way I'm going to miss Dave Talbott playing piano and organ, so I'll stop for now. But I promise I'll check back in soon and fill you in on the rest of the trip so far.

Peace and blessings to you this Palm Sunday.

Karen

California, Here I Come!

In case you wondered, the mini-workshops aren't done. But I've been immersed in getting ready for the Mount Hermon Christian Writers' Conference next week. My editor, Julee Schwarzburg (pictured at right), will be here Saturday, and then she and I will hit the road early Sunday morning. I can't wait. Julee has been one of my closest friends for lo these 20+ years, and we love going on road trips together. So I'm getting my workshop materials printed and ready, packing my suitcases, loading my CD folders with just the right traveling music (we love Bruce Willis's Bruno album), and basically going in frantic circles doing all of that and keeping up with work.

I'll check in during the conference to let you know how things are going. It's going to be loads of fun since not only will my editing compatriots be there, but a number of my B&H authors. This will be my 10th year at Mount Hermon, and I'll keep going as long as they want me. It is, in my opinion, the best writers' conference out there. Yes, there are others that are very good, but Mount Hermon is the best from the standpoint of workshops, faculty & staff, and location. I mean, you can't beat the Redwoods!

But you know the best thing about going to a writers' conference? You're surrounded by people as crazy as you are! These folks don't blink an eye when you tell them your characters kept you up all night arguing with you about where the story is going. And they're right with you when you bemoan the unpredictability of what will and won't sell. What's more, not one will roll his or her eyes when you jump into a lively debate about when to use semicolons.

So here's to the total package: a road trip with a good friend and spending time with people of like minds and insanity.

Peace!

Karen