What's She Doing At My Door

by Christine Thackeray

So last Sunday was one of those wonderful lazy afternoons when you don't HAVE to do anything. No meetings, no obligations, no TV, just hanging out with the family. My daughter was scrapbooking, the boys were playing board games, my husband was reading and I decided to go inscribe sweet messages to my neighbors and deliver my new book to them. I took our new hyper puppy with me on my walk and headed out with six copies. The sun was shining and it was really fun to chat with these women that I hadn't made an effort to really talk to in a few months. (I've been so focused on getting through projects, my social life has suffered.) One woman, Amy, in particular had welcomed me so graciously when I moved in last year but I have hardly seen her since.

Monday morning I got the kids off to school and rolled up my sleeves to work on copyright issues for my next non-fiction work (which is equivalent to doing taxes, yuck!) when suddenly the doorbell rang and there was Amy. I racked my brain as to why she could possibly be at my door. She told me that right before she went to bed for the night she had decided to read a chapter of my book. At 1 a.m. she closed it, apparently she couldn't put it down. Right after I shut the door the phone rang. It was Sonja, a friend I walk with. She said she had done the same thing and loved it. This week "Crayon Messages: A Visiting Teaching Adventure" goes out for review. I hope it gets as great a reception as it did from my friends. (Cross fingers.)