Y'all. I wrote another letter to my legislators. I'm posting it to share, if you want to print it out and send it to your legislators. Feel free to download it and/or copy it. Make changes as you see fit, or use it just as it is.

Here are links to find the names and addresses of your elected representatives:
http://www.house.gov/representatives/
http://www.senate.gov/pagelayout/senators/f_two_sections_with_teasers/states.htm
The President's address is The White House1600 Pennsylvania Ave NWWashington, DC 20500

Yep, it's an uphill struggle. But/and we're averaging almost 2 mass shootings A MONTH in the U.S. One voice, no matter how small, is louder than a thousand silent people.

Thanks, y'all.

Do you ever find yourself feeling a twang of the heartstrings before letting something go, even if it's silly?

Today is our last day with this sofa. It was the first big purchase my hubs (then boyfriend) and I made together, 15 years ago. Felt like a really big deal at the time. It's been through four moves, including being roped and hoisted up and over a third floor balcony in Boston. It's been home to many naps, studies, baby feedings, book revisions, and pillow forts.

Farewell, dear friend. You've served us well. May you bless your new home as much as you've blessed ours. We'll leave the treasures you hide in your deep recesses for your next family. And we'll come visit.

So I was signing on to Authors for Library Ebooks and I accidentally wrote a screed, which I might as well share here, since it uh, might otherwise never see the light of day. Their prompt:

Please tell us a little about you, your experiences with libraries and/or why this issue is important to you and your readers.

My response/accidental diatribe:

Library access to ebooks is important to me because LIBRARIES are important to me. My small-town library was everything to me growing up: escape, information, inspiration. And nowadays, as a grown up and parent and author and booklover, I still use the library every week. Okay, sure, I like when people buy my books -- but what is much, much more important to me is that people READ my books. Or any books. Read anything and everything. Everyone in this country (actually, everyone in the world, but I guess I'll stick to this country for now) should be able to get their hands on any book they wish to read. EVERYONE. Children, teenagers, waitresses, college students, factory workers, night shift janitors, retirees, the poor, the rich, everyone. Regardless of ability, or inclination, to pay. Okay, stepping down from my soapbox. Rant. Sorry.

Anyhoo. What was the question? Oh yes: ebooks. Look, I don't know everything, but I do know this: publishers are terrified that technology is changing the landscape of publishing. And hey, it's okay to be scared; I get freaked out all the time. But you know what? Change is what makes the world go around. Or maybe it's physics? Like I said, I don't know everything.

My point, and I do have one, is this: let's embrace the promising aspects of technology (e.g. the fact that e-books don't wear out after multiple uses --to say nothing of the wonderful fact that you can read an ebook after lights-out, and be all sly about it, and not get busted!). Let's encourage publishers to let go of their fear of change, which manifests in not offering ebooks to libraries, or in placing artifical constraints --like, say, requiring repurchase after a certain number of checkouts-- where they aren't needed. At its best, technology is the promise of access.

So, yeah. Read. Even after lights out. That is all.

A friend asked me to repost in a more findable place. I'm honored that it seems to have resonated with folks. Please feel free to share. Here goes --

Some thoughts on marriage, and cookies:

So I made cookies. (By which of course I mean that I baked the portion of dough that was not in my tummy.) And some of them came apart from cooking sheet to cooling rack, because they were so yummy/gooey. So I said to my hubs, "If you eat any, eat the broken ones."
And then I was like, Wait a second. This is my partner. This is the person who puts up with my ridiculousness every day, and makes me laugh more than anyone else on the planet, and is generous to me when I am a total shit. I literally trust this person with my life, and with my child's life. Why am I telling him to eat the broken cookies?

So I paused Netflix and told him, "You know what? You are my favorite person in the world. Eat the very best ones."

And I guess my Christmas (New Year's) Eve marriage/cookie message is this: We're all ridiculous people. We're only here a very, very short time. If you're lucky enough to find someone who wants to spend every day (and night) with you, and that person still manages to love you? Pause Netflix, tell them what a good egg they are, and by all means, let them have the very best cookies.

To everyone feeling overwhelmed by cookie making, card sending, secret-Santa-ing, and/or open house having. And to anyone feeling vaguely guilty about not feeling guilty about not doing things. I hath created a handy Holiday Tradobligation (Tradition + Obligation) Flowchart. The more you share, the better our world. You're welcome.

Optional Bonus Handy Note:

----------------------cut on dotted line------------------------------

Dear (circle one) friend / family member / colleague / other (please specify):

I am intentionally, but not maliciously, declining to participate in the following holiday tradobligation: ____________________________________________________
for reasons of my own sanity, and to make the world a less reciprocal-obligation-filled place. I invite you to join me in opting out of any and all tradobligations. Experience the freedom!

Sincerest regards,

___________________

Truthy-ish transcript from the park, walking the trail while our kids level the playground, mid-August 2013

BFF: So, how's Facebook-free summer?

Me: Great!

BFF: Have you truly, honestly been off Facebook?

Me: Yup, since the end of May. Although I admit: last night, I went on Facebook to grab a friend's email address for my newsletter. And I forgot to not get sucked in. I started reading the news feed.

BFF: And how did that make you feel? [Worth noting: BFF is a therapist]

Me: Honestly? Yucky. Left out. Immediately just ... sad. My friends had photos of getting together -- and even though these are people who live far away, and I never see them -- I still had an irrationally sad, left out feeling. I should be happy to see them. But it was the exact opposite.

BFF: I know exactly what you mean. That's how I feel from Facebook, too.

Me: I just read a study that said that the more people look at their newsfeed, the unhappier they are.

BFF: It's FOMO! I read an article in Oprah magazine about it.

ME: FOMO?

BFF: "Fear Of Missing Out." It's a nation-wide phenomenon. I think everyone has it to some degree--

ME: [Interrupting, because I'm horribly rude like that] --And Facebook makes it worse! Because honestly, when was the last time I had that "left out" feeling? I'll tell you when. The last time I checked Facebook. And before that? The high school cafeteria. Worrying whether I'd be invited to the cool parties. Wondering if friends were making plans without me. Hoping I wouldn't miss anything on the night my parents made me stay home. Totally miserable.

BFF: [Laughing in a commiserating way, because she's awesome like that] Right! Before my birthday party last week, I figured a friend would post about it, so I pre-emptively posted, "Don't worry, you didn't miss out on anything good," so my other friends didn't feel left out.

ME: That was nice of you. Related: I think it's good I do Facebook-free summers, because that's when I tend to have big parties--

BFF: -- Thanks for inviting me to your big party, by the way.

ME: Ha ha. Of course. Anyway, AS I was saying ... it's good for me to be off Facebook, so I don't get sucked in to posting all these cool photos from my rad dance parties, and feeling socially competitive.

BFF: You feel socially competitive? I don't see you that way.

ME: [blinking rapidly] Girl, I love you so much.

BFF: Aw. I love you, too. So, the big question: are you going back to Facebook?

ME: I thought about just ... not. But, yeah. Honestly, I feel like I need to, for work. To network, and make updates about my new books coming out.

BFF: Yup, I need it for work, too. Still gonna take summer vacations from it?

ME: Mos def. And I'll be more mindful how I use it. I'm not going to reinstall the app on my phone. I'll only check it when I'm on my computer.

BFF: Smarty pants.

ME: Also, this is going to sound really selfish, and I worry that it might be narcissistic...

BFF: Yeeees?

ME: But I think I might be happier if I stay self-centered on Facebook. Literally self-centered. Check my own pages, but not look at friends' stuff, or the main news feed very much. But if everyone did that? Facebook would be pointless. No sharing. Everyone would be disconnected.

BFF: Hm.

ME: Then again, maybe everyone would be happier. The irony of Facebook: human connection is supposed to make you happy. So more should be better. But more, in this case, is worse.

BFF: So, to be happy, humans should stick to the old in-person walk-and-talks.

ME: Like this one. Brilliant.


(...except I am now posting this on my blog and Facebook. Oh, irony, you cruel, cruel temptress.)

Note:
You can read a fab summary of studies about Facebook misery, "Can Facebook Survive If It Makes Us Miserable? by Charlie Warzel for Buzzfeed, here.

And the great article on FOMO, "Three Strategies To Beat Your Fear Of Missing Out," by Martha Beck, for Oprah Magazine, here.

In the course of writing (**cough** procrastinating) my third novel, it has become necessary for me to list the rules of my home. As written by me. And I'm a share-bear, so here they are:

1. Take off your shoes.
2. Be kind.
3. Ask for help when you need it.
4. Don’t interrupt naps, work, or conversations.
5. Work hard, work well, don’t whinge.
6. Nightly family dinner: settle in, say grace, and thank the chef.
7. Clean up.
8. Don’t interrupt naps, work, or conversations.
9. Share generously: your time, talent, and treasures.
10. Put the seat and the lid down.
11. No ambushing innocent bystanders.
12. When in doubt, tell the truth.
13. Do not anger wizards.
14. Jump up, jump up, and get down.

What are your Home Rules?

Got some signings, conferences, and visits coming up, and I've been pondering how to come up with some stickers for signed bookplates, and notecards with my info for thank-you notes, and other random suches.

Nothing was really working for me. I mean, "let Vistaprint design you a logo"? Blech.

I like personal. I like imperfect. I also like free.

And then, eureka!

My writing group pal John Claude Bemis already dubbed me J-Cube, even though technically I think the equation would be

3(j)

rather than

(j) to the third power.

Anyhoo.

If you have ever met me, you know I likey a good DIY (remind me to tell you the worm farm story).

My general attitude is, "Why not give it a try? What could go wrong?" (Remind me to tell you the deck roof story.)

So -- voila! My new logo, brought to you by a Pink Pearl eraser and my trusty exacto knife:

Me likey. What do you think?