These are the pants I wore to work yesterday. For obvious reasons. I mean, have you ever seen a more red pair of pants?

They didn't even have any Otis Spunkmeyer cookies this afternoon as I sat waiting for my car to be ready. Like a dork, I had packed some trail mix, so I wasn't starving without Otis, and I was also pretty engrossed in finishing the book I'd been reading.

This week I found myself digging into my journal/personal history archives in preparation for a book chapter I was getting ready to write. I had planned to start writing that night after verifying a few details, but once I started reading, I just kept going. And going. Bottom line: I got no writing done this week.

Real diamond dust? Really, Bath and Body Works? Pssshhh. Of course I still bought a bottle. Which only shows what a helpless ninny I become when the word diamond is involved.

Something people might not know about me is that I love the NBA. I was able to take in two Cavaliers games this week, and I was reminiscing with my fellow game-goers last night about how wonderful the good years were. The Winning Years.

This is one of my favorite parts about writing books. When it's time to actually make the decisions about what the book will look like.

I snapped this picture a few days ago because I like vintage typewriters and someday aspire to own one. I saw it, of all places, at Disneyland, in the treehouse that for so many decades was known as the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse, but which some years ago was converted into Tarzan's treehouse.

When I heard the power go off in the middle of the night last night, I went to immediate panic mode. And not just because it meant my heated mattress pad had stopped working. But mostly because it was -10 outside, and I wasn't sure how long my drafty Cleveland house could withstand that kind of temperature and still keep me and my cat alive.

I've written over 2000 words for 4 straight days, 8500 total, and for me, that's a record. I know it might not sound like that much for those of you who write for a living, but for a girl who has a full-time day job that does not involve writing, I'm quite proud of this.

Remember this post? Hopes and Dreams. Well, this is the night.

You've probably never thought about it before, because your family probably doesn't have a permanent slot on the Christmas program every year at church.

I was asked to be the speaker last night at a Christmas-themed event, and I confess it was nice to get down to the heart of the matter. You know, Christ. Bethlehem. The manger

'Tis the season. This makes me smile every Christmas. Enjoy.

I've always wanted to be an artist. I know, I know, writers are perhaps considered a kind of artist, but that's not the same thing.

Admittedly, I think Toms are kind of ugly. But I fell in love with the sparly silver pair and decided I had to have them.

As an Ohioan, I make this confession at great risk of peril, but I've never been able to embrace the Buckeyes. And I'm not sure why this is, as I fell in love with the Cavaliers the moment I moved to Cleveland.

In thinking today about what I’m grateful for, my mind went back to the moment a few months ago when I snapped this picture.

In all the craziness of last week’s travels, I wasn’t able to mention that Cheryl Strayed was in town. Author of Wild, which I quite enjoyed.