Jenyfer Matthews

A couple of weeks ago, I took my son to the pediatrician for a couple of booster shots. Because he was a new patient, the doctor started a file on him that included weighing him and measuring his height. The doctor made his notations, consulted his charts and — in the absence of any other information on growth trends in my son — casually remarked to me that my son was 2kg/4.5lbs over weight.

Now you’ll have to take my word on it that my son is not over weight. He’s always been in the 98th percentile for weight. I will accept that he’s heavier than the averages on the chart for his height because he’s very active and actually quite muscular, but overweight? No way! I buy him slim cut pants and still have to take in the elastic waist adjusters.

I got to talking to my husband and a couple of his friends about this, and they too admitted that at one time or other they have been labeled as obese by their physicians. None of these men would strike anyone as being even a little overweight. One man is a lean 6 feet tall and weighs about 200lb. My husband could stand to lose 10lbs, but I’d hardly call that obese!

It’s obvious — to me anyway — that these charts have been created with averages in mind. Doctors should consult them and then really look at the person in front of them. Are they tall or short? Are they large boned, medium or petite? Are they athletic and muscular or soft? What is their BMI? Where are they carrying their weight? There are so many more factors that play into health than the number on the scale. Being thin doesn’t automatically mean a person is healthy. Even thin people have heart attacks.

For the most part I’d put this all out of my mind, except for the occasions I get to tease my husband by pinching his love handles, then I saw this article in The New York Times over the weekend:

Japan, Seeking Trim Waists, Measures Millions

Under a national law that came into effect two months ago, companies and local governments must now measure the waistlines of Japanese people between the ages of 40 and 74 as part of their annual checkups. That represents more than 56 million waistlines, or about 44 percent of the entire population.

Those exceeding government limits — 33.5 inches for men and 35.4 inches for women, which are identical to thresholds established in 2005 for Japan by the International Diabetes Federation as an easy guideline for identifying health risks — and having a weight-related ailment will be given dieting guidance if after three months they do not lose weight. If necessary, those people will be steered toward further re-education after six more months.

To reach its goals of shrinking the overweight population by 10 percent over the next four years and 25 percent over the next seven years, the government will impose financial penalties on companies and local governments that fail to meet specific targets. The country’s Ministry of Health argues that the campaign will keep the spread of diseases like diabetes and strokes in check.

Now, I suppose I can understand why a country whose government provides health care for its citizens would be interested in how much people weigh, since being overweight can lead to so many health problems. But isn’t this taking things a little too far? How can they assign a one-size-for-all plan? I realize that Japan is probably a more genetically homogeneous country than the United States, for instance, but aren’t there still going to be variances in skeletal size that would make some people naturally larger than others? And are they taking age into consideration? I don’t know about you, but my waist is expanding as I age.

And are sumo wrestlers going to be exempt?? Somehow I think the sport might be a lot different if they didn’t have their giant bellies to bump together.

I’m all for being healthy and fit, but if the government of Japan is really concerned, why not offer free yearly physicals for everyone? They could keep track of a number of variables like weight, blood pressure, etc and look for trends in each individual they examine. Yes, it would take longer than whipping out a tape measure but it would also be more accurate. At it is, I think Japan may find that they start having a surge in other health problems like eating disorders such as bulimia or abuse of appetite suppressant drugs. Not exactly what they have in mind, I’m sure.

Please welcome Jean Hart Stewart!

Even though a freak accident killed my father when I was six (hit by a golf ball, of all crazy things), I’ve always regarded myself as a very lucky person. My wonderful mother went back to work as a school teacher. Since her hours were longer than mine, after school I was confined to the house until she returned home. As a result, I began to read early and steadily. She saw to it I had plenty of books from the library, and I read through everything she brought home. I knew by the age of ten I wanted to be a writer, preferably exactly like Jane Austen who I discovered early and read over and over. At twelve I wrote my first romance. It was doubtless dreadful and is fortunately lost! Still, my early isolation turned out to bless the rest of my life.

I found a group of other semi-nerds in high school, and always loved school. Ohio State University School of Journalism was a natural, and when I dated the editor of the student magazine he featured me as Campus Queen of the Month. Goes to prove who you know definitely does count! I didn’t even recognize the picture the professional photographer took of me.

The only importance of this long forgotten fact is my future husband’s brother knew me from a class we took together, saw the picture and asked his older brother Hugh to come along to meet me and put in a good word for him. Hugh (the handsome brother) was then a graduate assistant in physics. Not interested in anybody’s brother, (not very bright of me!) I sloughed off the request for several weeks, until one night when we arranged to meet at the library. When I saw Hugh and his brother walking down the long stone steps to me I knew in my heart I’d found, the real thing, love at first sight. I told the girl with me that same night I’d met the man I was going to marry. Two years later the brother was best man at our wedding!

Don’t let anybody tell you instant love doesn’t exist. We’ve had two children, two grandchildren, and a wonderful life together as Hugh’s job sent him to Europe a lot and often I went along. After that came my 20 year career as a real estate broker, lots of fun but I wouldn’t want to be in that field today. Too many sharks circling the waters.

(I can tell some good stories, though, like the client who didn’t keep his appointment because his jealous brother murdered him that morning!)

Then I started writing, and here I am six years later, a senior citizen with seven books accepted by Cerridwen Press in my Garland of Druid series, and an eighth on the way. I LOVE my Druids, each and everyone. Druid Triumphant, book six came out in June, with Druid Disdained is to be released in Sept. For more information about me or my books, visit my website.

Druid Triumphant
by
Jean Hart Stewart

Blurb

Adam is the last bachelor of the handsome Dellafield brothers. He’s had no trouble attracting women until the beautiful ballerina, Slaide Rivendell, insults him and then walks away. Furious, he determines to make her pay, but when he pursues her, he finds she has secrets that are destroying her and threatening her small niece. And keeping her from him. Yet Becca and Slaide need him, even if Slaide refuses to accept his help.

The villain menaces Slaide and Becca, capturing them both in spite of Adam’s protective measures. Now Adam must call on all his own and his Druid power to try to save them. Will he be in time, and will his powers be enough? And will Slaide reveal her secrets so he can fulfill their dream of love?

Excerpt

In the proper evening attire, with his thick crop of hair slicked down and shining, Adam paid his respects to his host and hostess, effortlessly charming them both. Then he propped himself against a wall until enough time had elapsed so he could leave. Still, guests at such a stuffy affair were always amusing, and he liked to people-watch.

His eyes roamed around the room, noting the buzz of conversations going on, the obvious flirtations and the usual meaningless exchanges he disliked.

Then he spotted her.

A shiver went down his spine, and he straightened his stance a little. Something about this girl, the aura shimmering around her head, a distinct blue haze enveloping her like a cloud, called to him to come to her side. The aura wasn’t quite as clear as he’d like it to be, but it radiated a beautiful color. He’d like to know what caused the haziness in her aura, though.

The willowy girl, tall and slender, stood talking to a young man leaning close to her and whispering in her ear. He looked pleading, she appeared stiffly uninterested. She moved away from him, looking back over her shoulder with a slight smile. A polished dismissal, but as definite a dismissal as Adam could imagine.

Before he had time to ponder her identity his hostess appeared. Adam was always slightly amused at how any member of his family seemed to be viewed as a trophy when one of them appeared at social functions. Adam turned to her with a smile, wondering how soon he’d have been there long enough for his departure to be unremarkable.

“I saw you eyeing our beautiful ballerina, Adam,” she gushed, tapping him on the shoulder. “Would you like to meet her?”

Quite suddenly Adam thought he would. Better than leaning against the wall all night. Something about the blonde’s air of absolute disdain intrigued him.

“So she’s a ballerina, my lady. That explains the unusual poise. Yes, introducing us would be most kind of you, ma’am.”

Lady Erickson, wife of the Swedish ambassador, smiled with just a touch of malice. “The beauty has spurned conversation with almost every other man in the room. Let’s see if she can resist the last of the elusive and handsome Dellafield bachelors.”

She grabbed his hand and escorted him across the room. She cut ahead to cross in the path of the blonde girl. Adam caught his breath. Her pale golden hair shone in the lights from the chandelier. Her cobalt eyes were fringed with extraordinary thick lashes. Those arresting eyes stared at him from regular features which were without a flaw. She held her head proudly on her slender neck, her gorgeous hair, pulled back almost too tightly from her beautiful face formed a coil at the nape of her tilted head. Much more suitable to her than the current piling of hair in a bunch on top. The size of the confined mass begged a man to rip it loose and admire the flow of gold as her hair tumbled. She was perfection. An icy perfection, with no hint of warmth in the depths of those stunning eyes.

Adam took a step toward her, once again admiring the lovely blue of the aura floating round her head. To his surprise, it glowed in a shade similar to his mother’s. Morgan’s never showed this frosty edging but the colors of their hovering auras were much alike.

At this short range his interest flared anew. Her skin looked absurdly soft. What would she taste like if an amorous man kissed his way down every inch of that exquisite flesh?

Lady Erickson came to a halt, looking triumphant although Adam didn’t want to think why.
“Slaide, this is Adam Dellafield, probably the most eligible bachelor in London and doubtless the most handsome. Adam, Slaide Rivendell, the newest star of the Royal Ballet. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

She hurried off, quite obviously satisfied with herself. Adam winced. Just the kind of introduction he didn’t want.

Before Adam could speak Slaide Rivendell did. She looked at him for one second, her eyes the most brilliant blue he’d ever seen. A much deeper blue than her aura. After glancing at him, she half-turned as if to leave. She spoke almost mechanically, her voice devoid of any feeling but annoyance.
“You’re indeed handsome, but you doubtless know it, Mr. Dellafield. You don’t require my adulation.”

She turned to walk away, but Adam caught her arm and held her back.

“Have I met you before and offended you, Miss Rivendell? If so I apologize. Otherwise I find it hard to understand your rather offensive attitude. And I seriously doubt I’d forget meeting you.”

He allowed his voice to be edged with his resentment. This girl was lovely, but no amount of beauty could excuse such blatant rudeness.

An inner elegance seemed to take over as she flushed with embarrassment.

“I was perhaps too curt. But I’m so very tired of being presented to so-called eligible men like some box of chewable candy. You caught me just as I started to leave. My apologies, Mr. Dellafield. Good evening.”

Her voice showed not a trace of regret, nor did her apology sound deep-felt. As she turned to leave, she looked down at his hand still on her arm. She frowned just a little, brushed off his fingers with light grace, and glided away.

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With a view like this outside my study window, is it any wonder I’m not getting much done? Beautiful, isn’t it?

It’s been a weird week. Caused in part by the approaching summer holiday. Lots of let’s-get-together-before-summer-vacation social events and all the summer birthday parties people can cram in.

I’ve been doodling with my book a bit, dragging my feet, just editing and tweaking. I feel mildly guilty about it, but not enough to actually get anything done.

I blame it on the end of the school year. Remember that feeling you’d get as a child, when you knew the end of the year was coming and you’d have two months of free time at your disposal? What was the point in learning a new list of spelling words or starting a new chapter in the text book when you wouldn’t finish it anyway? I can recall even the teachers giving up and doing lots of art projects instead of starting anything serious.

I’m not in school but I’m having those feelings anyway. My kids will be off of school in two weeks, we’ll be leaving in a month. It’s plenty of time to get something done. I really have to get over my “what’s the point?” cop-out and get on with things!

Don’t forget to stop by over the weekend when Jean Hart Stewart will be my guest author. She’s talking about love at first sight and her latest release Druid Triumphant – book six in her Druid series. Just think, if you like the sound of this one, you could have a new pile of books to read before you know it!

It’s been an odd week so far. Lots of little details to deal with, lots of social engagements, no real sense of accomplishing anything. My little man has been under the weather and requiring lots of cuddles. I’m in the throes of last minute party planning for my daughter’s birthday party next week. The pinata redecorating is complete.

I have been procrastinating doing any real writing, though I have been been editing the beginning of my latest project. I probably only have another chapter or so to go until I can type “The End” so I’m not sure why I’m dragging my feet on that, but there it is. I’ll have it done by the time I leave on vacation – promise! (which is pretty much exactly a year since I started it. Oi vey!)

This week I’ve been reading a historical romance set in Scotland. I normally stick to contemporary but was given this one as a gift. I’m enjoying it so much that I’m not sure why I haven’t read more historicals before now. I have no idea whether the dialog or the details are accurate and I don’t care. I love the tone and the atmosphere of the story. And it’s inspired me to do something that I’ve been meaning to do for some time.

Read Gone With the Wind.

I have a copy of Gone With the Wind on my bookshelf, given to me by a friend last summer as she was passing on copies of books a friend left at her house. I have wanted to read it for a while but I’ve never gotten around to it. I wasn’t in the mood and it’s a long book. Now that I’m in a historical mood though, I think I’m going to give it a go.

What’s on your agenda this week?

Had a bit of excitement last night. An electrical transformer / fuse thingy next door blew up somewhere around 2am. I peeked out of the window and saw a few men running around what looked like a small bonfire that was popping and snapping. In my sleepy fog, I thought that might have been just a coincidence – perhaps they were just burning stuff or performing a bizarre ritual. This morning, there is a very large generator parked in the street hooked into the charred remains of the fire last night. Guess it was no coincidence.

Since I assume at some point they will have to unhook the generator to do some repair work, I’ve been scurrying around this morning, trying to get my laundry and dishes done before they pull the plug. When the electricity goes, so does the water!

Had a different sort of excitement over the weekend. My daughter’s tennis coach came to me to tell me that my daughter would be a champion one day. Now, it’s not news to me that she is a talented athlete. She could run and kick a soccer ball before she could speak very well, and every coach she’s ever had has praised her skills to me. But most of her coaches to date have been volunteer sports enthusiast dads. Her tennis coach is a professional who has coached many junior champions in Egypt. His own children are in the US on full tennis scholarships. So when he tells me that my daughter has the potential to be a champion as well, I pay attention.

But I also worry. (What do you want? It’s what I do.)

My husband and I have been back and forth over how best to balance pushing our children to pursue and develop their talents and not becoming pushy. It’s a fine line. At the age of 7, my daughter isn’t the best judge of what she should do with her life. She likes to play a lot of different sports and I don’t want to stifle that in her, but to really excel she’s going to have to focus. If I let her go her own way, she might never really develop her full potential. If I gave in to her every complaint and sulky moment, she might one day blame me for NOT pushing her more.

At the moment I’m trying hard to balance birthday parties and free play downtime with lessons and dedication. It’s not always easy.

The tennis coach’s approach is much simpler: Make them love tennis. In addition to praise, he uses bribery. This week that involved lots and lots of cookies.

Please welcome author Marianne Stephens!

Born in Brooklyn, NY, I’ve lived in 6 different states, sometimes more than once. Married, I have 4 children and 4 grandsons. I taught school for a number of years (grades K-3, remedial reading and math for grades 1-6, and computers to preschoolers) but now write full-time.

As contemporary/paranormal romance author Marianne Stephens, I have 3 ebooks and one paperback available now. I run two monthly contests, one through my newsletter and one through The Romance Club. Check my website for details. I use another pen name, April Ash, for my upcoming erotic romance, Strip Poker For Two. Visit www.aprilash.net for details.

Gone to the Dogs
Blurb

KATIE O’HARA is a real-life version of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. As a suddenly jobless and newly jilted fiancée, she moves from New York City to Kansas. Her new job is to help the financially struggling Yipsey Dipsey Company market their new drink, Whoopsie, or the company will go bankrupt. However, others would rather see the company sold immediately.

Handsome fireman MIKE MARINO is out to win her heart. She wants no ties to Kansas as she isn’t planning to stay there. But, Katie finds it impossible to escape the lust-filled mutual attraction pulling them together for passionate kisses and frenzied lovemaking trysts while the situation at Yipsey Dipsey becomes increasingly complicated.

Throw in some “witches” and “flying monkeys” and that makes Katie determined to solve the mystery of who’s trying to keep her from doing her job. “Mishaps” begin to happen to her…some are minor but some escalate to deadly as she realizes someone’s out to kill her. Can she forget trying to prove she can do everything on her own and find happiness with Mike, someone willing to help?

Gone to the Dogs
by
Marianne Stephens

Excerpt

“Besides me, how many other people have you pissed off here already?” Mike asked his obnoxious question after speaking to the tow guy.

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?” I answered in an irritated tone. After waiting for an hour as they went over my tire and tried to find a problem with it my patience had worn thin.

“Well Miss Pleasing Personality, your tire was deliberately cut. I’d say someone is madder than hell at you.”

I opened my mouth but no words materialized. Gears churned in my head and I could only come to one conclusion. That realization made me shiver.

Mike took off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders. “You’re wet and freezing. Why the hell did you stand out in the rain? Do you wanna get sick?”

A flush rampaged up my cheeks and I hoped it wasn’t the beginning of a fever thanks to my stupidity and pride-induced rain dance. Stubborn I was. Cold and wet too.

“No, I…” How could I explain myself out of this? “Look. You’re right. I was wrong. Can we talk about something more important? Why do you think someone’s out to get me?”

Mike ran a hand through his hair then grabbed my elbow and walked me back to the chairs in the towing company’s office. “Sit. You look wobbly. Are you cold or did you nip one too many at that party?”

His attempt at offering caring concern flew out the window as soon as he threw in that suspicion about me drinking. What? Did he think I watched TV soaps and ate bonbons all day except when boozing the hours away?

I gritted my teeth. It would have had more impact if I weren’t chattering from the cold. “I’m gonna forget that last comment only because you’ve been so nice to Aunt Phoebe. No, Mr. Inquisition. I didn’t have anything to drink but punch.”

Mike moved his face within inches of mine. “Was it spiked?”

I breathed out a huff of air into his face. “Does it seem like I’ve been drinking anything but fruit punch?” My voice escalated the more he annoyed me.

“I guess not. Aunt Phoebe wouldn’t have let you drive if she thought you’d been drinking.”
“Humph. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He took the seat next to me. “Look. Someone cut that tire on purpose. I’m guessing right before you left. The air escaped pretty quickly from the hole.”

“Why should I believe you? I just got those tires and maybe there was a defect in that one.”
Mike sighed. “You don’t have to believe me. Just ask Tom,” he nodded to tow guy, “and he’ll explain why it has to be a deliberate act.”

I already suspected Lanny, Danny Sr. or Manny. How could I tell Mike? I didn’t want to involve him in my work. I vowed to handle this myself. Uneasiness shoved the cold and shaking from my body. Trickles of fear took their places.

“Thanks for your opinion. If Tom would just put another tire on for me and throw that one in the trunk of my car I’ll pay him and be on my way.” I got to my feet as a show of confidence. My jellied knees threatened to wobble but a major dose of resolve kept me standing straight and tall.

Mike leaned back in his seat apparently speechless for the first time since I’d met him. Amazing. All I had to do was stop arguing with him while giving him ammunition to fight with me and he shut up. Full of assurance and buoyed by my getting the upper hand I rewarded myself with a mental slap on the back. I’d won this round.

“How come you didn’t call that boyfriend of yours? What’s his name? Lawrence?”

I aimed a deadly stare at Mike. “Lanny. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Mike smirked. “Oh. Sorry. How come you called me instead of him? Wasn’t he at the party?”

“What are we doing? Playing twenty questions?”

“And here I thought I’d help you figure out who’s out to get you by sorting through all the suspects.”

I flung myself back into the chair with the grace and sophistication of a squatting rhino. “So far Marino you’re the only one who fights with me all the time. Maybe you followed me to the party and cut the tire figuring I’d have to call you and you’d become Mr. Rescue Guy again. You know. Get on my good side because I’d be undyingly grateful for your help.” This little speech started out as a lecture and gained momentum the angrier I got and higher pitched my voice sounded.

In a low seductive tone he whispered, “There’s that one time we didn’t fight. Or have you forgotten already? I haven’t.”

My cheeks flamed. No, I hadn’t forgotten our major smooch and it kept parading through my head anytime I thought about him. It popped up in my brain constantly.

“Oh.” I turned on the charm and sugar-coated my speech. “You mean when I barfed on you. You’re right. We didn’t fight then.”

He started laughing and that minimized the dig I was trying to jab him with. Men were definitely from Mars.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I mean when you grabbed and kissed me. Surprised the hell out of me but I’m not complaining.” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave me a charming smile.

“Marino let’s get one thing straight. I did not kiss you. You grabbed me and kissed me. Why would I want to kiss you? I don’t even like you.”

I just have the hots for you. I hoped he noticed my glare and wished my pulse would stop racing. Where was that damned off button to switch my body from “horny” mode?

“Oh yeah? Tell me you didn’t enjoy this before.”

I had no time to react. Mike swooped me into his arms and gave me one of the most passionate kisses I’ve ever experienced. My eyes closed instinctively and my body molded itself to his. I not only kissed back but I let my tongue do a little dancing inside his mouth.

No control. All systems go. I was ready and more than willing to launch.

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I’m wearing red, white & blue and I have the Rice Krispie Treats ready to go. Today is international day at the school – the day my daughter has been agonizing over for two weeks now – and all because she couldn’t decide what to wear.

It’s a shame that American doesn’t really have a national dress – no lederhosen, no sari, no galabiya. Some of the other children look so exotic when they come to school in their embroidered tunics and pillbox hats. But unless I’m going to dress her up like a Pilgrim or maybe Davy Crockett, it’s pretty much just jeans and a t-shirt for good old USA.

(She wanted to dress hip-hop but I put the kibosh on that!)

She made her final decision last night – her baseball jersey and her plaid flannel pants. I bit my tongue – mostly because I knew it wasn’t really her final decision. Today she walked out of the door wearing long gray soccer shorts and a gray Nevada t-shirt decorated with wild ponies. I thought I was home free until I noticed that Sunday is the end of year party at school and is once again a non-uniform day. No theme this time, but I see lots of angst in my weekend as she tries to decide what to wear.

It’s going to be a busy weekend for me. Baseball is finished for the season but there are still tennis lessons for the month of June and there are two birthday parties this weekend. Plus I have to design a Greek tunic and leafy crown for Greek Day next week (heaven help me!) I may not be around much, but don’t despair. Marianne Stephens will be here over the weekend with her Cerridwen Press book Gone to the Dogs.

What are your weekend plans?

I wanted to sit down and write a thoughtful post but it isn’t happening. My mind is whirling with all the little details of daily life which for some reason seem to have come to fever pitch this week. It’s the last month of school so not only are all the summer birthday children trying to fit in a party (including my own child) but it seems that everyone is trying to schedule social engagements to catch up before summer vacation or say goodbye before they leave Egypt for good. Keeping up with the social lives of two children in addition to my own is a little daunting at present!

I’m mostly unpacked – that is to say, everything has been removed from my suitcases and is now sitting around my bedroom. It was only a three day trip so I traveled light – going. Coming back my bags were stuffed with yards (acres!) of cotton quilting fabric, and all the other little things that are difficult to find in Egypt. Dubai is a shopper’s paradise and it’s not hard to go a little crazy there. Especially when the simple things can cost so much here in Cairo.

Here’s a perfect example. I borrowed my friend’s car and went over to a nearby grocery store. The store isn’t that wonderful for groceries but I love to go there because you just never know what you will find in their household / kitchen area. So I was cruising up and down the aisles when I stumbled upon some water glasses made of recycled glass – and they were only $2 for a package of 3. Several factors converged at once : I have broken several of our ugly water glasses recently, I’m a sucker for recycled glass, and even if you could find the same thing in Cairo it would cost 5x as much, easy.

Aren’t they lovely?

I bought two packages and stuffed them into my carry-on bag along with a whole lot of stuff I bought at the duty free in the airport. If customs had chosen to inspect my bags coming into Egypt they would have found an interesting assortment of groceries, liquor, kitchenware, small electronics, and enough fabric to open a shop.

It’s a good thing I have an innocent face!

Edited to add: A few pictures of the other end of the shopping spectrum…

It is easy to lose your head in a place like this!

I’m back home again after a fantastic weekend away with friends eating good food, drinking wonderful wine, shopping, and talking talking talking. It was only three days and four nights but I feel like I was gone much longer. The power nap of vacations!

But now it’s back to real life. Hubby managed to keep the house intact and the children alive (though I heard much complaining about the quality of the school lunches he packed for them!) but the house? Let’s just say I’m going to spend my day grocery shopping and doing laundry. A small price to pay in the grand scheme I suppose, and not totally unexpected.

But it’s not just grocery shopping that is going to keep me hopping, but the children’s school and social life. My phone started ringing while I was in the taxi on the way home from the airport – another mom inviting my son on a play date after school today. Which is great because then I’ll have solo time with my daughter to catch up on three days of neglected homework! Tonight is the last meeting of my book club for the year. I read this month’s selection on the plane and liked it pretty well. Should make for an interesting discussion. And Thursday is International Day at the school. I’ll be making Rice Krispie treats and handing out hot dogs at the food tasting stall.

The glamorous life of an author!

What’s on your agenda this week?