Just Between Friends

Memories of Mom

2008-05-08T08:10:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is rapidly approaching and as it does, I am always struck with sadness that my mom is no longer here so I can celebrate the day with her. She's been gone for 30 years and hardly a week passes when I don't think about how many things we never got to share or how much I could use her advice or a shoulder to cry on.

My mother was an avid reader, who quite likely set me on the path my life has taken. Not only did she get me hooked on romance novels, but she actually loved to write, even more than I did . . . or do on a day when the words aren't coming easily. She never saw my first book in the stores or even knew I was attempting to write one.

There is, however, one story I like to tell about her longtime friend, who now lives in South Carolina and whom I see each year as I drive north or south between Florida and Virginia. Dottie was in a bookstore one day, hunting everywhere for my latest. She had the clerk looking as well. Suddenly a book fell from the shelves. It was mine. When she told me of this amazing coincidence, I replied, "That was no coincidence. That was my mama." We still laugh about the idea that even from the hereafter, my mother's doing her part to promote my career.

Mom was a wonderful listener, a trait that endeared her to all my friends. I still recall, as I sit on the front porch of my home in Virginia with these same friends today, all the times they would sit in the exact same place -- if not the same chairs -- and spill all their secrets and dreams to my mother. It's little wonder that these people are like siblings to me. We grew up with the same woman encouraging us, building our confidence, comforting us when we were hurt.

There are days it's almost impossible for me to believe that she's been gone from my life almost as long as she was a part of it, but that's the nature of the relationship, isn't it? Moms influence us, become a part of who we are, stay with us always.

So for all of you whose moms are still with you, I hope you'll spend time with them this week. More importantly I hope you'll spend time with them when it isn't
Mother's Day. Treasure the time you have, because it can end all too suddenly.

And for those of you who, like me, no longer have your mom to turn to, to be there for all the triumphs and tragedies in your life, treasure the memories that remain and take some time this week to rejoice in those.

Sherryl Woods

This old house...under construction

2008-05-01T11:50:00.001-07:00

Early on I mentioned in a comment on this blog what it's like to have a contractor for a husband . . . or a friend. Little did I know that I was about to discover the true meaning of my own words.

Last fall when I left for my winter home in Florida I sat down with my friend, who's been a contractor for many years. He's done plenty of work for me including the renovations of my bookstore -- twice -- and the major overhaul of my kitchen. I had two interior projects I wanted to have done over the winter because they'd be so disruptive to my life if done while I was actually living in the house. I was having a good bit of my main bathroom gutted and having my office/guest room painted and the closet built out to contain a section for office supplies, another for gift wrap and a section for guests' clothes. We went over paint chips, a sketch of the closet and so on.

Off I went to Florida last October, happily envisioning the changes I would find on my return. I passed along model numbers for a new sink and a new toilet. I found just the right faucets. Then I conducted a hunt for floor tile, after being assured that changing the tile wouldn't delay the project.

We had many conversations over the winter, though few about the projects. About a month before my return, he asked oh-so-innocently, "Now, just when are you coming back?" A cold chill raced down my spine. Then, "Which of those paint colors did we decide on for the bathroom?" I did not find this reassuring.

When I was more than halfway here, visiting with friends in South Carolina, I got another call. When installing the new faucets in the shower, he'd discovered a leak. This on a Sunday, in a town where finding the plumber can be a full-time job on a weekday. The next day, somewhere in North Carolina as I drove on I-95, there was another call. The plumber would be here before the day was out, but there was a second leak. Now, neither shower nor toilet were functional. I almost made a U-turn and went back to Florida.

It is now just over two weeks since I drove up to find an old sink and toilet in my side yard, then walked in the door and found my dining room piled high with bags filled with stuff removed from the medicine cabinet and the storage unit in the bathroom. An hour after I arrived I was sorting through junk, some dating back to my mother who died 30 years ago!! Please, let's not consider what that says about me as a housekeeper, okay? The point is I was immediately overwhelmed by the chaos.

The story does have a happier ending. I have a functioning bathroom again(it took three days total for the plumber to deal with the leak -- one day to track him down, one day on the job and another day to fix what was still leaking after the first visit). My office is organized enough that I can actually sit down and write without thinking I should be hanging curtains or throwing out yet more junk.

This tale of woe is not meant to make you feel sorry for me (though a little sympathy would be appreciated), but to explain why I haven't done a blog for a couple of weeks. Now I would absolutely love to hear your horror stories about renovations that have gone awry, taken longer than expected, or even the bright and shining examples of things that turned out exactly the way you wanted them to, and on time. Click on comments below and share your experiences with us, or email them to me at Sherryl703@gmail.com and I'll post them for you.

As for my contractor, we're still friends. After all, we've known each other since we were 12, so we know way too many of each other's secrets. And even when I find him the most frustrating, I know I can count on him to get the job done with meticulous attention to detail. He's very, very good at what he does . . . and driving some 100 miles round trip each day to work for me probably is above and beyond.

And now that I can walk into a bathroom that looks even better than I envisioned it, or into an office that's freshly painted and almost organized, I like him even more.

Sherryl

Be careful what you write...

2008-04-19T08:42:00.000-07:00

Is there such a thing as email etiquette? You know, the kind of guidebook about email that Emily Post used to write about getting along in the world? If so, I haven't seen one, but I am frequently reminded that there sure is a need for such a thing.

How often, in a business or personal situation, have you started to fire off an angry email in a fit of annoyance or exasperation, only to stop yourself at the last second? Or, worse, how often have you hit SEND, only to regret it the next second?

That's the thing about email. It's quick and all-too-easy to react impulsively, not choosing our words with care. And as if that alone wouldn't be bad enough, an email doesn't come with an image of the sender or his or her tone of voice. Next thing you know that quick response has been misinterpreted, taken as a serious or biting comment, rather than the witty little joke you meant to make. And someone's feelings are hurt. Or there's a rift in a friendship or business relationship.

I've certainly received my share of emails from strangers, family or friends that imply a negative tone that may not be intended at all. Sometimes I'm tempted to fire back an equally snippy comment. Sometimes I've even done just that, only to find out the person who sent the original email never intended the message I received.

So, here's something to consider, even in the most casual email exchanges...and even more importantly in the professional ones. Take a second look at what you've written -- unless it's as simple as suggesting a time for lunch, for example -- and be sure there's no way the recipient can misinterpret your words. If you mean your email to be biting, will you have reason to regret it an hour from now? Or even two minutes from now?

If the subject is serious, something that could affect a relationship, wait to respond, rather than replying in the heat of the moment. I sometimes write scathing emails, then go back and take out all the incendiary language. That gives me the satisfaction, without the repercussions.

If you've ever fired off a quick email and had cause to regret it, tell us about that. Of if you've ever received one that hurt your feelings -- intentionally or not -- tell us how you handled that. Did you pick up the phone? Fire off an angry email in response?

I'm curious about the impact all this may be having on civility and any experiences you'd care to share. Either click on "comments" below or send me an email at
Sherryl703@gmail.com.

Sherryl Woods

Getting inventive about getting around

2008-04-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

Just last week one of my best friends from college came for a visit. We make it a point to try to get together at her home in Colorado, mine in Florida or in Virginia at least once a year. One of the first things we do is make a list of all the things we want to do during the visit, all the restaurants that have become favorites.

This year at the top of her agenda was spending a day at the Sony Ericcson tennis tournament, something we hadn't done for several years at least in part because my gimpy knee makes getting around the tennis complex, up and down stairs and even from the parking lot a real nuisance. However, as someone who once loved to play tennis and even played competitively on a neighborhood team -- yes, me! -- I really wanted to go. So, I got inventive.

I called the ticket office and asked about a zillion questions of a poor, clueless guy who kept trying to seat me in the upper deck, but handily near an elevator. I finally gave up, went on the site map and figured out which row was at the top of the section I wanted, meaning no stairs to climb once I was inside the stadium. Two seats in that section also netted me a parking pass right across the street from the stadium. And, as a bonus, a pass to a special hospitality suite. When I was unable to make the reservation online, I went back to poor, clueless guy and gave him the information about exactly which seats I wanted.

It turned out to be one of the best things I've done in years. The walk from the parking lot was a breeze. My knee even cooperated for a walk around the gorgeous grounds and allowed me to hike up one set of stairs to my seating level. By then I'd spotted an elevator and made the next trip up in that. In between we saw a men's doubles match won by the tournament's eventual finalists, a match by the tournament's eventual winner, Serena Williams, and part of a match by the eventual men's winner, Nikoly Davedenko. The only thing I screwed up was not realizing that if I'd had the exact same row on the opposite side of the stadium we would have been in the shade, rather than the scorching heat. Next year!

This isn't the first time I've made phone calls to determine the best seats for an event. I know exactly which row is best for me at the Florida Marlins spring training site in Jupiter. I've figured out which seats work best in which theaters in New York and which theaters are within walking distance for me from my hotel.

I'm bringing all this up because it made me wonder how many of us stop doing things we love when we conclude that it's inconvenient or physically difficult. I know I've done that more often than I should. Going to the tennis match reminded me yet again that there are ways to keep up with the things we enjoy. They sometimes require a little ingenuity, but they are possible.

So, don't put aside your passions when you think they're beyond you. Maybe it's true, but maybe it's not. Maybe it's just a matter of looking at the seating plan, making a phone call, asking the right questions. I hope I always remember this lesson, because my life will be richer for it. So will yours.

If you have a topic you'd like to discuss here, among friends, be sure to drop me a note at sherryl703@gmail.com. If you'd like to write a guest blog about something on your mind, drop me a note about that as well.

Sherryl Woods

What's a woman to do?

2008-03-30T11:50:00.000-07:00

Just about anything she sets her mind to, from what I can see.

Last week I had the most amazing opportunity. I spent a few days in Toronto with the five winners of Harlequin's More Than Words awards. Trust me when I tell you that these are women of action, women who saw a need in their communities and stepped up to fill it. As I chatted with them, I was in awe. I think you will be, too.

Each year Harlequin Enterprises solicits nominations from the U.S. and Canada of women who are making a difference in their communities. Five are chosen to receive a $10,000 award for their charity. In addition, five authors are selected to write fictional stories inspired by these women and their great organizations. This year's More Than Words anthology is being published in hardcover for the first time with stories written by Linda Lael Miller, Curtiss Ann Matlock, Jennifer Archer, Kathleen O'Brien and me. It should be in stores any day now and all proceeds go back into Harlequin's charitable foundation to honor future recipients and causes that are important to women.

The winner to whom I was assigned was the energetic, enthusiastic founder of Inside the Dream, based in the Peel region of Canada just outside of Toronto. Ruth Renwick, a native of Peru and a social worker by profession, was asked a few years ago to help a teenager who literally would have been unable to participate in her senior year prom or graduation without the proper clothes to wear. Ruth found her one dress. When that didn't fit, she went home, opened her own closet and that of her daughter, and took more dresses over until the perfect dress was found to give this young girl her Cinderella moment.

From that single incident, Ruth saw the impact that such an act of kindness could have on a young person's self-esteem and ability to have important memories from high school. With the help of her daughter, colleagues and her husband, she founded Inside the Dream. In just a few short years more than 350 teens -- girls and boys -- have benefitted from this program, winding up high school standing a little taller, going out into the world with a little more hope.

Though I had spoken to Ruth before writing my story -- "Black Tie and Promises" -- meeting her proved everything I'd felt when speaking to her and reading the material that had been submitted by her husband when she was nominated for the award. Every teenager could use a fairy godmother like Ruth. This is someone who simply doesn't take no for an answer, who has boundless energy and commitment . . . to say nothing of eyelid tattoos so she'll never need eye make-up again. Those of us who are constitutionally incapable of putting eyeliner on straight were in awe. I'm still trying to convince Harlequin to fly any author who wants to go to see Ruth's plastic surgeon who accomplished this magical feat.

The other four winners were equally remarkable -- a single mom who'd struggled to put food on the table for her own kids then launched a program for others in similar situations; a charming, soft-spoken woman who founded a theraputic riding academy to honor her daughter, who suffered from Down's Syndrome and died at 15; a doctor dedicated to autism research and programs; and a woman who used the occasion of her wedding reception to launch Bears Without Borders by asking friends and relatives to donate a teddy bear. Those bears -- and many more -- have made their way into the hands of children around the world.

So, despite temperatures in Toronto in the 20s and ice on Lake Ontario, I came home with my heart warm. Meeting these women lifted my spirits and inspired me to look beyond my own routines to see what I, too, can accomplish in my community. Find a copy of More Than Words, whether the edition in which my story appears, or one of the earlier volumes. I hope you, too, will be inspired to make a difference. It's amazing what one woman with determination and a dream can do!

The evolution of the Easter egg

2008-03-21T11:08:00.000-07:00

Don't be scared. This is not some scientific treatise on the Easter egg. It's just a bunch of random thoughts about how times have changed for this holiday tradition, specifically in my life.

Remember way, way back when moms would bring a dozen or so eggs out of the refrigerator, along with one of those special kits with little images of bunnies or Easter lilies that could be transferred onto brightly colored eggs? Hopefully someone remembered to boil the eggs first, but then we'd spread colored dye from one end of the kitchen to the other trying to create the perfect eggs to fill those baskets that the Easter bunny left on Easter morning. There was an artistic satisfaction to the creation of those eggs.

Then, in later years I joined friends every Easter, arriving early in the morning to hide eggs for their five children. By that time, plastic eggs were starting to be in vogue, eggs filled with candy or money, and hidden in such a way to keep the kids hunting for hours while the traditional Easter ham baked in the oven. We still tucked a few dyed eggs around the yard, but that had turned into a risky business since we couldn't count on the kids finding them or us remembering where we'd put them.

About that same time, an old friend in Virginia had little kids of her own. Not only did she do the whole Easter egg thing in style, but she'd dip her fingers in flour and leave "bunny tracks" through the house for her girls, leading them to eggs and hidden treasures.

In a fit of nostalgia maybe ten years ago, while visiting my dad, my cousin and I decided we absolutely had to dye Easter eggs. We ran around to every store in town --all five or so of them -- looking for an Easter egg coloring kit or even some food coloring. Nothing. On the eve of Easter, the shelves were bare. Back at the house, disappointed, we told my dad where we'd been. He simply shook his head, walked into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and handed us food coloring. Trust me, it had been there for a very, very long time, but the stuff did the trick. Our eggs weren't fancy, but they were bright and cheery. And he, of course, got to gloat that he'd had that dye all along.

A couple of years ago my goddaughter was visiting here in Florida around Easter, just in time for the annual Easter egg hunt on the village green. We took her two sons over there. While the oldest, who was about 10 at the time, gathered with others his age awaiting the start of the hunt for that age group, the rest of us waited with the one-year-old for his "hunt." It was especially aimed at toddlers. Parents were advised to stay outside the circle, where dozens of plastic eggs and small toys had been scattered for easy retrieval by the tiniest hunters. Within seconds of the official start, parents were on their hands and knees grabbing everything in sight, ruining the event for the kids and for the few parents -- my goddaughter and her husband among them -- actually trying to follow the rules. It was one of the most offensive scenes I've ever witnessed with adults pitted against toddlers, leaving many in tears. The next day we staged another hunt in my apartment to give the kids a fair chance to win a few prizes and find a few eggs.

The last time I tried to decorate a few eggs in the Easter tradition, it was ... Christmas. What, you've never heard of Christmas eggs? It was part of a joke gift for a friend this past holiday season, brightly colored red and green eggs with Merry Christmas, Mark written on them in crayon, along with a bit of decorative holly. I even took one to my breakfast place on Christmas morning to wish the cook/owner a happy holiday, mainly because he'd thought I was insane when I told him what I was doing. He's probably still a little uncertain about my mental health.

At any rate, with Easter almost here, I couldn't help thinking about the old days with parents and kids, eggs and a messy kitchen. The plastic eggs filled with treats may be easier, they may last from year to year (in fact, I think there may be one or two rolling around under my sofa even now), but it's just not the same.

None of this, of course, has a thing to do with the meaning of this holiday in a religious context. It is, however, all about tradition. I wish we were a little more intent on passing that along to our kids, spending that little bit of extra time with them, indulging their creativity, mess or no mess. Think about it next year when you're about to buy another bag of colorful plastic eggs for the kids' Easter baskets. Give them the gift of your time instead.

Meantime, I wish you all the true joy of this season.
Sherryl Woods

Guilty, soapy pleasures

2008-03-16T11:01:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of months I've been totally obsessed with how TV's soap operas were going to negotiate their way through the disaster of the writers' strike. Why, you may well ask. Because one of my guilty little pleasures for many years has been watching the daytime soaps.

It may go back to childhood when my mother listened to a couple of soaps on the radio before I started school and she went back to work. Or it may go back to my years as a TV critic in Ohio when I broke my ankle, had a cast up to my hip in the middle of winter and was stuck in the house with soap operas to entertain me. I wrote a whole series of columns on the soaps and got hooked all over again, especially on The Young and the Restless, As the World Turns and The Guiding Light. My favorite story from that time was mentioning in a column that I just couldn't figure out the convoluted relationship between two characters on As the World Turns. By Monday morning I had a stack of mail on my desk explaining it to me . . . and every version was slightly different.

Over the years soaps have been maligned by critics, denigrated by TV snobs, and treated shabbily by networks and local stations who cut into them at the drop of a hat for "Breaking News" that usually isn't worth the airtime it wastes. With viewing patterns changing and soap ratings falling, I wondered if the writers' strike would be the kiss of death for this form of daytime entertainment.

When the strike began, word was that most soaps had sufficient scripts to carry them into February. Just in case, I hoarded my daily tapes, allowing myself to watch only the occasional hour, staving off the day when they might be forced to air reruns.

And as February neared, viewers I think could begin to see the very clever ways that the shows were trying to grapple with a dwindling supply of words for their characters to utter. Some shows had more than usual musical segments...meaning music played while characters interacted without speaking. This entailed long, meaningful looks, strolling hand in hand, rolling around in bed or anything else that could occupy the screen while music substituted for words. Some shows resorted to many, many flashbacks, weaving old clips into the story which could easily extend one new script into two days worth of shows.

My favorite, though, has been All My Children. Now some of this was, I'm sure, planned even before the writers' strike. The return of beloved characters Angie and Jessie -- never mind that he died onscreeen years ago -- could well have been in the works all along, but it has allowed somewhat conveniently for many, many flashbacks. In addition, they brought back the "real" Greenlee -- Rebecca Budig -- for an amnesia storyline about her old love Ryan, which has -- you guessed it -- allowed for the use of many, many flashbacks. They couldn't have pulled that off with the new actress in the role.

In general All My Children and the three CBS shows I tape have weathered the strike mostly with aplomb. After all, many of these seasoned actors spend their spare time on the New York stage and are used to live performances that require them to roll with the punches when the unexpected happens. They mustered on no matter what material they were handed. Only on rare occasions have I gone, "Huh?" when a storline or character veered wildly off-course.

Thank goodness, though, that the strike ended when it did. Had the strike gone on and necessitated the kind of scheduling disaster that occurred in primetime, it might have been the death knell for the soaps. And as someone who not only loves the genre, but also writes connected books because of an affinity for stories that return to the same world again and again, the loss would have saddened me. Now if network executives could muster up the same amount of respect for these venerable old shows, I'd feel even better about their future.

How parents fit in at school

2008-03-01T10:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday at a Miami high school there was a melee involving students, teachers, the administration and police in what looked to be a scene of total chaos. As of this morning some of the students were reportedly still in juvenile detention. What struck me as I watched the breaking news reports yesterday was the reaction of some of the parents on the street outside the school.

Let me start by admitting that any parent discovering that their child's school has been surrounded by police and that students are being taken away by ambulance or in handcuffs has every right to be distraught, especially with a complete lack of accurate information being passed along to them. I get their dismay. I really do.

What I don't understand is the immediate and unequivocal declaration that everyone with the possible exception of their child is to blame. People were ranting about the conduct of the police, about the school administration, about other kids. Nothing feeds hysteria more effectively than a vacuum and the lack of information clearly created a situation that frustrated and angered the parents.

The irony, of course, was that having no information, they somehow knew without question how innocent their child was. In many, many cases, I'm sure that stance was entirely accurate. In others, quite likely it was flat-out wrong. Someone had turned what had reportedly started to be a peaceful demonstration into a virtual riot. And at that point, no one outside of that building had a clue about the details of what had happened.

Yesterday's situation, about which details are still in short supply, reminded me of conversations I've had with my cousin, who's been teaching for around thirty years now. She's one of the best. Clever, imaginative, beloved by her students and her co-workers. And yet she admits to a certain hopelessness when it comes to dealing with disciplinary issues in today's school environment. We've discussed this in the context of everyday problems between students and as it relates to bullying.

The problem is that too often out of some misguided sense of family loyalty, guilt over not being around enough for their kids or whatever else might cause it, parents leap to the defense of their kids despite whatever evidence the school or teacher might present to the contrary. This is not an isolated incident. It's so widespread that there have been prime-time TV episodes devoted to it and storylines on soap operas, which mirror real-life far more often than most soap detractors like to admit. It's little wonder that teachers hesitate to make accusations in an environment in which they're likely to become parental targets. The threat of a backlash can be overwhelming.

Of course, not all kids are bad kids. An accused child may not be in the wrong at all. But parents don't do them any favors by ignoring reality and leaping to their defense before facts are known. When children claim to be innocent, they should be heard and defended in the context of the situation presented. Teachers and school administrators and even police should be heard with an open mind, as well.

Over the years I've seen too many kids bailed out of jam after jam by indulgent, well-meaning parents. They grow up with little sense of right and wrong, little sense of responsibility and, too often, a very misguided sense of their own entitlement.

So, by all means, support your children, be there for them, love them, but don't turn a blind eye to their failings. Especially listen to those who spend hours of each and every day trying to help them learn, not only the facts of history and geography and math, but the lessons needed to become a better person, a responsible adult.

The ranting, the vigils, the protests all need to wait until facts are known and justice can truly be served.

If you've had experience with an incident at your child's school or an occasion when one of your children was unjustly accused, share it with us by clicking on comments below. Feel free to agree or disagree with anything I've written.

And if you have another topic you'd like to have discussed on here, something you and your friends have been talking about, let me know about that by emailing me at Sherryl703@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.

Sherryl Woods

Beauty secrets...and a cautionary tale

2008-02-23T05:13:00.000-08:00

It's been fascinating to me that as my friends and I age, suddenly all we talk about are skin care products and our mad attempt to get rid of all of our accumulated wrinkles and bits of sagging skin.

Remember when, as teenagers or even younger pre-teens, we all hung out with our friends at slumber parties and played with make-up? Well, these days it's the same principal, though rather than comparing lipsticks and eye shadow, we're sharing tips about products that promise to wipe the years away.

For me this started with a "significant" birthday a few years ago. About two weeks before the big day, I emailed my best friend from college warning her to prepare herself. With her birthday rolling around a couple of months after mine, I wanted her to know that she should be expecting her face to cave in. At least that's what mine had done. Practically overnight. I swear it happened that fast. For the remainder of that summer, every email I received from her had a note: Not yet. She actually made it past her birthday without the sudden onset of sagging or crinkling under her eyes. I figure she was probably always a late bloomer, but trust me, it's all caught up with her now.

And suddenly our emails are all about various products we've tried...creams and lotions and devices that scrub away dry skin and leave you with a fresh, vibrant complexion. If it's out there, I guarantee you that one or the other of us has probably tried it. We've turned into absolute suckers for all of the advertising claims.

Neither of us -- so far, anyway -- has been willing to go the route of cosmetic surgery. I absolutely know I'd be the one who ended up with major scarring or a permanently reddened complexion. That being the case, that leaves us with anti-aging products. On a daily basis, we experiment. Just last week I passed along a tip from a make-up artist who advised using green teabags to reduce undereye puffiness. I tried it. It seems to work. He also advised steeping a few of the teabags at a time and storing the extras in a plastic bag in the refrigerator. I passed along that tip without trying it. Today my friend advised me that those puffiness-reducing teabags turn moldy after a few days in the fridge. So, fresh-brewed is the way to go...after they've cooled down, of course. Otherwise, you'll be facing a whole different skin problem.

I know it's not just my friend and I who are embroiled in this activity. Last summer a neighbor held a party for a particular product line and everyone there focused on the skin rejuvenating treatments offered. I have to admit, I bought some of those, too. Then last week, I spotted an ad in the local paper for yet another product. I went online and ordered that one at what struck me as an exorbitant cost. I've now used it for two days and actually believe I see results. If I'm right, I will be ordering it by the tubful, despite the cost.

However -- and here comes that cautionary note for any teenagers out there -- the very best thing I could have done for my skin would have been to stay out of the sun all these years. Living at the beach has caught up with me. Even now, I still spend a few minutes -- rarely more than 20 -- outside every so often because I think the sun is good for bones and it just plain feels good, especially on my achy knee. I just wish I'd used that degree of moderation a whole lot sooner.

If any of the rest of you have discovered the fountain of youth in a bottle -- or a jar -- please share it with us by clicking on the comment link below.

And if you'd like to be a guest blogger or simply have a topic to suggest that matters to you and your friends, email me directly at Sherryl703@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.

Sherryl Woods

The loneliest day of the year...or not

2008-02-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! For married couples and people busy falling in love, this is the day of the year to celebrate those wonderful feelings that connect you to another person. Cupid's darts are flying all over the place.

But what if you're not in the path of one of those darts? What if you've lost your spouse? Or just gone through a divorce? Or at the moment are simply happily single? What on earth are you supposed to do on this day that celebrates love?

Some people, I suspect, simply buy a box of chocolates and hide out at home with a good book. Others manage to find a party of other singles to attend. Some simply pretend it's like any other day of the year, no big deal, no special meaning. But when I read Peanuts this morning, there was poor old Charlie Brown watching the mailman come with such hope. His face was one we've seen a million times, looking sad and so darn alone as the mailman kept right on going without leaving one single Valentine behind. It made me think.

So, this morning before heading out the door, I gathered up my stash of Dove dark chocolate hearts and took them with me to the place I go every morning for breakfast. I doled those red and gold wrapped candies out to everyone around . . . the mechanic from the corner gas station, another guy whose name and job I don't know, the cashier at the restaurant, the cook and two of her friends, the waitresses, my regular morning dining companion and several other friends who appeared before I ran out. I discovered something, not just that it was better to give than to receive, but that everyone enjoys a little reminder that someone's thinking of them on this day. None of these people are the loves of my life. Some I barely know. Yet every one of them grinned and tucked that chocolate away. And for me, Valentine's Day turned into something special, a chance to remind the people around me that I enjoy their company, appreciate their service.

It reminded me, too, that not all love is the romantic kind. And why shouldn't we celebrate that, too? Why shouldn't this day be a time to tell our friends and family we care, even as we spend extra time and attention on that one special someone? And all it took to make someone's day a little brighter was a bag of chocolates and saying, "Happy Valentine's Day."

If you'd like to share your Valentine's Day traditions or tell us why this day was very special or impossibly hard for you, click on comments below and fill us in. If you got engaged on Valentine's Day, share that memory with us. We'd love to hear it.

Meantime, I wish you all a taste of chocolate and a whole lot of love.

Sherryl Woods

Inspirational women

2008-02-08T11:47:00.000-08:00

Now that I've had a couple of rants on here, I'm going to change tone and talk more about the many wonderful women whose stories you've shared with me. These are women who've been important in your lives -- mothers, sisters, mothers-in-law, friends, co-workers -- who've battled breast cancer and been an inspiration to you with their courage, determination and strength. In each of these oh-so-brief entries, sent in response to the contest on my website, wwww.sherrylwoods.com, I've felt the spirit of these women. I hope that sharing a few of their stories with all of you will inspire you, give you strength if you're going through your own battle with breast cancer, and most of all, help you to know that you are not walking this path alone.

If you'd like to share your own story here or tell us in more detail about one of your loved ones, please click on the comment link below, or email me directly at Sherryl703@gmail.com.

In the meantime, a few more stories of hope, a few more heartfelt memories to be shared.

Michelle writes to submit the name of her friend, Rani, "a friend and co-worker recently diagnosed with stage 3 bilateral breast cancer. Rani is fairly young to be going through this and comes to work nearly every day with her newly shaved head(refused to wait to see if her hair would fall out) and a wonderfully positive attitude."

Jacqueline wants to honor "two lovely women in my family who are survivors. My sister, Janet, has had two bouts with breast cancer, the last one taking her breast. She looks for the positive and is soon to be a grandmother for the first time. The second young woman is my daughter-in-law, Jennifer. Jen is a hospice nurse who takes care of people with the same thing. She is amazing and shows so much compassion
to everyone. I want her to be able to see her son, 11, grow up and be a kind and caring man."

From Janet comes the story of her niece Cindi, "an incredible athlete, coach and role model. She is a past honorary survivor for the Indianapolis Race for the Cure and has inspired many people with her courageous story."

Another Janet asks to honor her mother, Marian, "the kindest, funniest, bravest, scrappiest woman I have ever known -- my all-time hero."

Vera, a survivor of more than twenty years, each year sponsors a tea "that raises thousands of dollars for breast cancer." Cheryl submitted her name to be honored.

Patricia wants to honor her mother, "who died of breast cancer at the age of 31. She had six children at the time and she found homes for all of us before she passed away and in 1999 I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I remembered how brave she was. I also want to remember my adoptive mother, Evalynn, who died of cancer.

So many stories. I'll share more of them next time. If you have someone whom you'd like remembered or would like to honor, you can still enter the contest for the $100 March donation to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. Go to www.sherrylwoods.com and click on contest.

Sherryl Woods

Teens, texting and driving

2008-01-31T11:36:00.000-08:00

The other day in response to my blog on irresponsible cyclists, Karende wrote in and mentioned a mom who refuses to insist that her child wear a helmet because he'd simply take it off the second he's out of her sight. It made me wonder how that mom is going to cope if ever tragedy strikes and her son suffers a massive head injury.

It also reminded me of two other issues, the most topical of which is teens who insist on text messaging while driving. Many of you may have seen the Dr. Phil episode a few months back in which a mom came on the show with her teenage daughter who insists that she has the skill and attentiveness to do both. Mom worried this wasn't the case.

However, and this is a big one, Mom absolutely refused to do what she had to do to make sure her daughter and others on the road remained safe. While many of us at home and in the studio audience looked on in absolute bewilderment, the mother sat through a tape of the simulation they'd done with her daughter who was driving and texting . . . and running into practically everything on the simulated "road." Ms. Teenager claimed it was an unfair test.

Dr. Phil then had on a young man who'd hit and killed a cyclist because he was texting and driving. He told how devastating this had been for him and his family, the guilt and remorse he felt about what had happened. Ms. Teenager seemed to find his story very sad, but was unmoved about the need to change her own behavior.

At that point, Mom was told she simply had to take the cell phone away from the girl until she could be trusted to be more responsible. Mom said, "Well, I'll do it if I have to." Which part of this did she not understand? Her child was not going to change her behavior without direct parental intervention. The mom's obvious lack of conviction suggested that Ms. Teenager is most likely still on the road, convinced of her immortality and as irresponsible as ever.

Years ago -- and this is my second instance of a lack of parental determination -- I heard parent after parent declare war on TV advertising on children's shows because those ads put them in the uncomfortable position of having to say no to their child. Oh, sweet heaven, isn't that a parent's job? Just because the little one demands a particular toy or a particular brand of cereal doesn't mean he or she has to have it. In fact, if there's a tantrum involved, I'd say that's the perfect time to declare that whatever they're after is off-limits indefinitely.

Admittedly, I don't have my own children, so some of these hard calls have not been mine to make. I do, however, have a very strong belief that it's up to the adults to be adults and make the decisions that will keep their children safe, teach them responsibility, and then see to it that the rules are followed. Is that easy? No. Is it the parent's job. You bet.

When did parents decide it was more important to be a best friend than a mom or dad? I'm sure over the years, I was unhappy with quite a few decisions my parents made, but you better believe I abided by them or suffered the consequences. Those rules helped me, I hope, to become a concerned, caring, responsible adult, instead of the kind of self-indulgent, irresponsible young people that turn up from time to time in today's difficult world. These days with so many things that can steer teens down the wrong path, rules and follow-up are more important than ever. Leniency isn't doing a teen -- or younger child, for that matter -- any favors. And if tragedy strikes, no parent should have to live with that kind of regret. They need to know they did everything humanly possible to prevent it.

If you've seen examples of this and would like to share them, click on the comments icon below. Or if you disagree, share that as well. If your child's favorite argument is that this or that friend is doing it, how do you reply? I'd love to hear from you.

And if you have another topic you'd like to suggest or would like to write a guest blog about a hot topic that you and your friends are talking about, please email me directly at Sherryl703@gmail.com.

Sherryl Woods

Cycling safely

2008-01-27T05:13:00.000-08:00

Okay, please forgive me, but I'm going to take a break from writing about wonderfully brave cancer survivors this morning to rant about something else entirely...irresponsible cyclists.

Every single morning when I leave my home to join friends for breakfast, I encounter packs of men (and the occasional woman) cycling together. These are the folks for whom climbing onto a bicycle is a serious sport, or at the very least serious exercise. They're also adults. They should know better. Sometimes as I drive along there will be two or three cyclists riding in a row in the designated bicycle lane, but more often there are a half-dozen and sometimes many more stretched across the road.

Now two of my friends -- one of them a triathlete, who might be found in one of those packs at least back home in England -- love to remind me that bicycles are vehicles. They are entitled to use the road. But, based on what I've read of the traffic laws, that means they are also to abide by the same laws that apply to cars.

Not these folks. They go through red lights, they weave between cars, they're certainly not going the speed limit. But what makes me craziest is that they don't use even halfway decent common sense when riding.

Keep in mind, I'm on the road at 6:30 a.m. It's still dark, at least at this time of the year. Some of these riders are wearing dark clothing and have no lights on themselves or their bikes. If they don't like the pace of the cyclist ahead of them, they will happily swerve into the next lane to pass, never mind that a car that could crush them might be about to pass in that lane.

There has also been a huge amount of contruction on this route in recent months, which has narrowed it to one lane in each direction. Rather than making their turn before they get to the contruction and avoiding it, they insist on riding the same route, which has early morning rush hour traffic backing up behind them.

And forget them stopping behind a school bus like the rest of us. They just ride on by. Given the human nature of the kids who are running from every direction to try to catch that bus, one of these days that's going to have a disastrous outcome.

So here's my plea this morning. If you have children who ride their bikes to school or around the neighborhood, make sure they have helmets, lights on their bikes and wear light-colored clothing, if out after dark. And make absolutely certain they understand the rules for riding on the road. And if you or anyone you know is an avid cyclist, please remember that you may be 100 percent entitled to your part of the road, but cars, SUVs and trucks are bigger than you are. Years ago, I heard a saying that applies: He was right, dead right as he sped along, but he's just as dead now as if he'd been wrong. Make sure that everyone you love is not only right, but smart and safe.

And if you have something to add to this discussion, click on the comment link below. If you have another hot topic about which you'd like to blog, please email me directly. We're having trouble with the link on the right, so send your suggestions to me at Sherryl703@gmail.com. That's now set up just to receive emails from this blog or from my website, www.sherrylwoods.com. We'll see if this system works until we can get the other one corrected.

Sherryl Woods

Honoring more courageous women...

2008-01-21T11:16:00.000-08:00

The other day I began introducing you to the stories of women who've faced the battle with breast cancer with courage, dignity and strength. Their names were submitted to me as part of a contest on my website (www.sherrylwoods.com) which promises a $100 donation to the Susan G. Komen For the Cure Foundation each month in honor of a survivor or in memory of a loved one who has lost this difficult battle.

Before I share some more of these wonderful and inspirational anecdotes, I'd like to share one of my own. Shortly after my arrival in Miami more than 30 years ago, I went to work as a television critic for The Miami News. One of my dearest friends there, Marilyn Moore, was soon to be diagnosed with breast cancer. At the time she and her husband had five small children -- including TWO sets of twin boys. During her recuperation from surgery, I spent a lot of time in their home. I discovered that the kids would eat almost anything except my one attempt at moussaka. They didn't like the "meat," which in fact was eggplant.

At any rate, during those long months, only once did I ever hear Marilyn complain and even that was in the form of a joke...made on the day after she woke up from her mastectomy. From then on, through chemo and radiation, she was totally focused on living a long and full life. If she had any kind of scan, she believed with everything in her that the results would be okay.

And for many years, they were. Sadly, though, the cancer did return and this time she lost the battle, but she did it with such grace and dignity that I will never forget it. Until the very end, when she could no longer deny the inevitable, her outlook remained positive. In some ways, I think that made losing her all the harder, because the rest of us honestly believed that she would win the fight one more time.

So I add her name to the list of women nominated by so many of you during my contest. Here are just a few more of their stories.

Debbie writes of her cousin Mary, who lost her battle in 1982 and adds, "We've come so far since then."

Lee Anne nominated her youngest sister "who was in stage three breast cancer when she was diagnosed in July 2004. On December 15, 2007 I had the pleasure of watching Lou dance with her son, Joe, at his wedding. Survival is real, but we can never stop fighting for those who don't make it."

And Michelle, who was diagnosed herself at the age of 33 and who is now a survivor of 10 years, shares the story of her mother. "In May 2006 she was diagnosed with breast cancer at the same time we were preparing for a once-in-a-lifetime cruise together to The British Isles. It was a sad time for all the family. We canceled our cruise so she could receive the treatment she needed ASAP. She was graceful and courageous during her chemotherapy and radiation therapy in addition to all the complications that arose from her illness. Her only regret during that summer was her inability to have her annual "Joy-a-thon." For a week she has all 11 grandchildren at her house . . . And all the parents get a break for a week from the kids as well. She is a giving mother, best friends with her grandchildren and is an all-round wonderful woman."

A five year survivor tells of her own fight and her greatest fear. "My husband of 33 years helped me through surgery, chemo and radiation. He himself was trying to recover from a work injury that took his left foot. We worked together to help each other through the hard times. Two years ago on Labor Day weekend, he died...I worry about what I will do if I ever get it again and I am trying to do what I can to prevent it."

And to prove that friends can be there despite separation and the passage of time, Jane writes, "I would like to honor Margarita. She was my best friend when I was living in Arizona. Her daughter and my daughter were good friends. My youngest is named after her daughter. She has had to go through chemo twice now. She was ready to give up when her daughter came up pregnant and it gave her the will to go on. I faced my own scare this year and she was there to encourage me via email in my struggle while I waited on results."

If you're waiting for biopsy results or other medical test results, I wish you the kind of friendships that make the wait easier. And in a few days, I'll share more stories about other courageous women and the friends and family who want to honor them.

Sherryl Woods

Honoring courageous women...

2008-01-15T06:21:00.000-08:00

The battle against breast cancer is, in many ways, a lonely one. Only the person who faces the diagnosis must summon the courage to go through treatment, setbacks and challenges. But for the very lucky ones, there is a whole army of supporters there to walk with them, to offer encouragement and prayers and daily acts of kindness.

Never was this more evident to me than when I began to read through some of the entries to a contest on my website. Last month (and again this month and in February) I've offered a $100 donation to Susan G. Komen For the Cure in honor of a survivor or in memory of a loved one who lost the fight against breast cancer. Though there was only one randomly-selected winner from the hundreds entered, there were too many heartfelt comments to be ignored.

So, today and over the course of the next couple of weeks, I'd like to share some of the stories submitted. Even in a very few words, people were able to convey so much about their heartache, their sense of loss and their respect for those they wished to honor. For me, they're a testament to the powerful bonds between women and to the strength of those who've waged this battle. I'll use only first names here in the interest of privacy, but to all of you who entered I thank you for telling me about these wonderful people.

P.J., for example, wrote about her cousin Janet who "passed away from COPD in September. Janet fought many health obstacles throughout her 83 years. In 1980's she fought and survived breast cancer. She was a survivor in more ways than anyone will ever know. I still miss her..."

Sandra wrote of Nancy, "my best friend, who at 38 years old, lost her battle to cancer."

Another wrote, "I am a breast cancer survivor, but I would like to honor a very dear friend who died of breast cancer four years ago. (Frances) was a brave and loving woman. She changed many lives through her battle, including mine. I could not have dealt with the knowledge that I had breast cancer if it hadn't been for the strength and courage Frances possessed."

Kandi tells of "Freda, my brave friend, who is currently battling breast cancer. She uses her great sense of humor and the love of her large family -- sons, daughter, daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and, of course, her devoted husband -- to optimistically face her greatest fight."

A daughter, Carmen, writes of her mother, Gladys, "She was my mother, my guardian, my best friend. It's been ten years but sometimes I still reach to give her a call. I have a really good friend who has had a reccurence, another who just got diagnosed and another who has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It's a horrible disease. Here's to a cure!"

Another Sandra asked to honor two people. "First, my grandmother Alice. Although she's been gone many years now and she did not pass away because of the cancer, she's the first and so far only one in our family that has gone through it. She had a mastectomy and lived a long life afterwards, passing away in 1987, nearly 20 years after her triumph over the cancer. Second is my long-time friend, Mary...She was diagnosed approximately 10 years ago, so she's well past the five-year stage. She is now married and going strong. Another triumphant story!"

This is just the beginning. I hope the stories will touch you. There are many more to come. And in the meantime, if you didn't enter last month's contest and have someone you'd like honored with a donation to the Susan G. Komen foundation, please go to www.sherrylwoods.com and click on "Contest." There's also information there on how you can make your own contribution, no matter how large or small, to aid in this fight that affects us all -- whether we've faced the diagnosis ourselves or dealt with its effects on a friend or loved one. Banding together, there's nothing women can't do, including curing this terrible disease.

Sherryl Woods

We have a winner!!!

2008-01-11T12:02:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago in the blog that asked "Where's the Starbucks?" and compared small town versus big city living, our guest blogger offered a prize to the writer of the best response. The comment by Karende has been chosen. We all loved her story about things being delivered in the wilds of Alaska.

So, Karende, please contact me via email at saw1122@aol.com (NOT via this blog) with your contact information, so we can get your prize to you. And many thanks to all of you who commented on that topic. It's been our liveliest discussion yet. If you didn't comment before, feel free to do so now.

And speaking of winners and responses, the entries to last month's contest on my website were overwhelming. The prize was a $100 donation to the Susan G. Koman for the Cure organization in honor of a breast cancer survivor in your life or in memory of a loved one who lost that battle. One winner was chosen randomly, but the comments are so heartfelt and touching from other entries, that I'd like to share some of them here. Check back in the coming days for those.

And in the meantime, if you didn't enter last month's contest and you have someone you'd like honored or remembered, go to www.sherrylwoods.com and click on contest. We're offering the same prize again this month.

Be sure to stop back here to read about some remarkable women whose lives were cut short by breast cancer or who have waged valiant battles to beat this disease.

Sherryl Woods

Raising teens in a "Juno" world

2008-01-05T06:02:00.000-08:00

One of the most critically-acclaimed movies released during the holdiays has been a quirky little film called "Juno." I have to admit that I left the theater last week with a boatload of concerns about this movie and what it's saying to teen girls.

Since then, I've had several conversations about the movie, one of them with a mom who used the film as a talking point with her daughter. I've also read a piece in today's paper by syndicated columnist Ellen Goodman who refers to herself as a fuddy-duddy for her own reaction to "Juno" and other films which deal with unexpected pregnancies in a fairly cavalier manner. Frankly, I don't think she is.

For those of you who've not seen the film and don't keep track of such things, Juno is a very precocious teenager with a smart mouth and more self-possession than most college grads I've run across. Finding herself pregnant, she pretty much makes a unilateral decision to have her baby, find a couple desperate to have a child and allow them to adopt her baby. She finds them in a giveaway classified newspaper, which does suggest she's not quite as bright as we're otherwise led to believe.

She's lovingly supported through this crisis by her father and her stepmother. If a single one of them worries about the emotional toll of all this, it's given very short attention on screen.

As for the teen father, he's pretty much sidelined until after the delivery, when the much-relieved Juno turns the baby over to the chosen mom, whose husband has conveniently hit the road. Juno goes back to her boyfriend as if nothing much happened, they resume playing music together and life, presumably, goes on as if the entire pregnancy has been little more than a blip in their lives . . . or a "bump" as Hollywood is so fond of saying when stars' pregnancies start to show.

We are, as Ellen Goodman mentions, a long, long way from Dan Quayle's flap over a pregnant Murphy Brown.

I'm of two minds about all this. "Juno" and the recently-revealed pregnancy of teen star Jamie Lynn Spears can provide a wonderful opportunity for parents to discuss the risks of premature sexual activity. It opens a door for discussions that are often uncomfortable and way too often delayed until it's too late, when kids have already gotten all their knowledge and values when it comes to sex from other sources. Anything that can make "the talk" easier and more timely is positive.

However, in the case of "Juno," which is rated PG-13, I worry that too many teen girls will see it on their own, that there will be no parental conversations about what it all means, and that they'll come away with the idea that an unplanned pregnancy while still in high school will be little more than a nine-month nuisance to be endured, with the resulting baby handed off without a second thought. We all know it doesn't work that way in real life.

For one thing, all parents are not as understanding and supportive as those in the film. Some might even push their teens into a marriage for which they're far from ready. In some cases, the reaction can be even harsher and more devastating. Even if that doesn't happen, having a baby and giving it up can take an emotional toll that lasts a lifetime. Despite increased sexual activity among young people at an earlier and earlier age, evidence of it -- a pregnancy -- can still turn a girl into a social outcast at an age when they're especially vulnerable. Not every teen has the self-esteem and support to weather the negative reactions of their peers . . . or their peers' parents.

As a writer of romance and women's fiction novels, I've been in the business of creating happy endings from very complex situations for my entire career. I hope, though, that I've never done that without dealing with all of the ramifications and powerful emotions involved. There's a huge difference, in my opinion, between finding happiness despite all of the complications and difficulties of a situation and glibly pretending that none of those difficulties exist. I prefer my happy endings with a dose of reality figured in.

If you've seen this movie, let us know your reaction. If you have a teenaged daughter, did you see it with her? Were you able to talk about it? Or if you've used other situations in the news, such as Jamie Lynn Spears' pregnancy, to initiate a conversation with your kids, tells us about that too. I'd really like to know what you think about this.

Sherryl Woods

Sherryl's tips for saving money in the new year

2007-12-30T07:09:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I wrote about new year's resolutions, but one I didn't mention was the good intention we all have to save a few more dollars. With the economy uncertain, gas prices rising and all those holiday bills rolling in, now's the perfect time to think about your own personal savings plan for 2008.

But how on earth do you save anything with routine costs mounting? It's not easy, but I think back to when I was a kid. Both of my parents worked. As I recall, my mother was paid weekly, my father every two weeks. What I do remember clearly were the envelopes -- plain, old-fashioned white ones. Each of them was labeled for rent, phone, food, whatever. When checks were cashed, money went into the appropriate envelopes, assuring that the cash was there when the bills were due. As far as I know, no one ever slipped money out of those envelopes for other purposes.

That system seems antiquated today, when paychecks are often direct-deposited into checking accounts, but in reality it assured that money was set aside for necessities. Once it's in the general pot of a checking account, it's much easier to spend it on other things and suddenly come up short when the rent or mortgage payment is due.

I was reminded of my mom's system not too long ago when talking with a friend, who uses a similar system, not for paying the regular bills, but to save for special items. She has cans hidden away in her house with cash designated for the annual family vacation, new carpeting and, last year, for a surprise birthday party for her husband. Each week she stuffs a bit of cash into each of those cans. It's whatever she has leftover from her household spending money. Sometimes it's a set amount, sometimes loose change, sometimes it's the amount equal to what she spent for cigarettes before she quit smoking. For her it's somewhere between a game she plays with herself and a quest to build up those dollars. However she motivates herself, I do know she's been paying for a trip to North Carolina's Outer Banks each year for some time now by using this system. Her husband's party was a huge, catered backyard barbeque, all paid for by money saved in a can. And that new carpet has been installed without busting the family's monthly budget.

So, if there's something you've been longing to do, but can't seem to find the money to do it or if there's a decorating project you'd like to do, a new big-screen TV you've been wanting, think about getting a couple of special piggy banks, cans or envelopes and tucking a few dollars each week or even each day into those. Make sure your kids have no idea those secret stashes exist or at least hide them where they're not readily accessible. I seem to recall a couple of episodes on "7th Heaven" when the kids got into mom's savings in the kitchen cupboard or their baby brothers' piggy banks.

Obviously these savings plans won't make up for not saving something on a regular basis for retirement or college or a rainy day, but they do work for the little things you really want, but have always assumed you couldn't afford. Even if you begin with the loose change that's been tossed on the dresser at night or been dumped into the bottom of your purse, it will eventually add up.

Get your kids started saving for their special desires, too. Nothing will help them to understand the value of money quicker than having to save up before they get that expensive toy or video game. If they receive an allowance or earn money cutting grass for the neighbors, encourage them to put a little aside so they can buy something they've been begging you to buy for them. Don't give in -- at least not always -- to the desire to make life better for your kids than you had it. The lessons you learned if you had to struggle a bit probably made you a better, more responsible adult when it comes to financial matters.

The bottom line as you head into the new year, though, is to resolve to save for the future. Maybe it will only be a bit of loose change at first, but when you see how that can add up to buy something special down the road, I bet you'll catch the savings "fever" and start stashing those little cans all over your house, too.

If you have a savings system that you swear by, please share it with us. Or if you have a story about how a secret stash bailed you out of a financial tight spot, let us know about that as well.

Sherryl Woods

This year I resolve . . . oh, why bother?

2007-12-29T05:44:00.000-08:00

We've all done it. We've dutifully sat down with pen and paper, or maybe just made a mental note that when the clock strikes midnight on new year's eve we're going to change. Dieting is one of the most common resolutions and statistics suggest that it lasts about as long as it takes for someone to pass around the chips during a football bowl game on new year's day. I'm no better than any of the rest of you about this.

So, this year I'm here to offer a new approach. This year I resolve to be more AWARE of what I'm doing when it comes to diet and exercise, to be more ATTUNED to it when I let my tone turn judgmental. Those are the areas I most want to change in myself.

How are those resolutions any different from just resolving to lose 20 pounds or resolving to be nicer and more open-minded to my friends? I hope they're less likely to set me up for immediate failure. And we all know what happens once we've eaten that first forbidden slice of cheesecake or skipped a day at the gym. It gets a whole lot easier to do it again and again, until there's no longer any pretense of dieting or exercising.

My way, in theory, simply means that I'll pay closer attention to my food choices and try harder to make the right ones. I'll work in a bit more exercise every single day, not make promises I'll never keep. If I hear that judgmental tone creeping into my conversation -- or even into my head -- I'll remind myself to shut it down.

In theory, if this goes according to plan, I will lose weight -- maybe not at breakneck speed -- but the scale will tip down, not up. Bit by bit I'll become more fit by making the kind of small changes that are managable, not intimidating. For example, now that I have a brand new pedometer, hopefully I will add a few more steps into my everyday routine. By the end of 2008 that should add up to a lot more steps per day. I will climb a few more stairs, lift free weights more regularly than I currently do.

Why do we even bother with resolutions when they're so often doomed to failure? Because the start of a new year is a fresh beginning, a chance to become a little better than we were in whatever way we deem necessary.

Tell us your new year's resolutions, the ones you've made, the ones you've stuck to and the ones you haven't. If something's helped you stick to your resolutions, share that with us. Successes, failures, put them all on the table here. Maybe if we compare notes, we can make 2008 the year we all do just a little better.

Meantime, I hope 2008 is very good to you.

Sherryl Woods

Have yourself a politically-correct Christmas!

2007-12-21T05:35:00.000-08:00

I'm very much afraid the world has developed a serious case of politically-correct madness. Just the other day I was told that in some mall in some city (okay, so details and accuracy were pretty much sacrificed in the telling)the Santas on staff were no longer allowed to say ho-ho-ho because it might have an offensive interpretation in "street" language. Now, really! What is going on when we're censoring Santa's vocabulary in such a ridiculous way? "Ho-ho-ho, merry Christmas!" was a cheery greeting from Santa Claus long before it had any other interpretation that I'm aware of. I'm hereby re-claiming it for its originally-intended meaning.

This incident, assuming it actually did happen as reported, is just the latest in an attempt to tone down the holiday season in a way that makes it almost unrecognizable from what it was when I was a kid. Back then -- w-a-y back then -- we still had Christmas pageants in school. We sang carols. I'm pretty sure we had plenty of kids from other faiths who did not celebrate Christmas, but who enjoyed the traditions as much as the rest of us. Was it insensitive? Perhaps just a bit. Is it right that we've toned it down in our schools? More than likely. But I can't help thinking that we've lost something in our desire not to offend anyone at anytime.

Why can't we, instead, celebrate all traditions in our schools and in our communities? Isn't that the perfect way to teach understanding and tolerance of all religions and beliefs? No one is a greater defender of the separation of church and state than I am. Nor does anyone believe more strongly that religious freedom is one of the most basic tenets of our society. Doesn't that mean that we should learn about other faiths, respect them and especially teach tolerance of them to our children? My church youth group, w-a-y back when, studied other religions. We went to services in other churches. We were taught to embrace the similarities and to understand the differences. Isn't that the real lesson our kids should be taught, rather than stripping away all mention of religion and faith in our schools? Children have such open minds and hearts. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we worried less about being politically-correct and more about instilling values and respect for others and their beliefs and traditions? Perhaps, then, there'd be fewer hate crimes based on religious differences.

This seems like the ideal season to dream of such things. And I'll do it with carols playing. I'll wish people happy holidays or merry Christmas, as appropriate. And, by heaven, I'll expect all the Santas whose paths I cross to bellow cheerfully, "Ho-ho-ho, merry Christmas!"

In the meantime, I wish all of you joy, the happiest of holiday seasons and, for those of you who share my faith, a very merry Christmas.

Sherryl Woods

Grief and the holidays

2007-12-16T05:48:00.000-08:00

With holiday music blasting away everywhere you turn, colorful lights blinking on lavish yard displays and shoppers bustling -- or shoving -- in stores, it's easy to forget that for some the holidays are a time of deep loneliness or sorrow. This was brought home to me recently when friends lost a son just as the holiday season was about to go into full swing. It was an unexpected and tragic death, which left both parents devastated. Now these two wonderful people are facing a once-favorite season without their only son. It's almost impossible to know what to say to them.

There are plenty of platitudes -- your son wouldn't want you to grieve during this season you all love so much, you have other children who need you -- but I have no idea how you do either of those things when your heart is heavy with grief. I do, however, have some ideas about what those of us who love people in such a situation may be able to do.

First, invite them to your celebrations. They may decline, but it will help them to know that you're thinking of them and that they have options.

Second, if they usually do a lot of decorating, but just don't seem to have the will to get started, offer to bring some friends together to do it for them.

Third, if they typically do a lot of baking, encourage them to come to your home and help you with your baking, instead. It may be easier in another kitchen and it could start a whole new tradition.

Fourth, if it seems appropriate, suggest other new traditions that may brighten their spirits. After my dad died, my cousin and I went to New York for a few days right before Christmas. The amazing lights, a Kenny Rogers old-fashioned Christmas show, the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular with the Rockettes, all of it helped to take our mind off of our loss. We've gone back several times since then and it never fails to make the season merrier.

Fifth, if your friend has just lost a spouse, he or she may feel awkward about going places alone during the holidays. Offer to pick them up for church or for a neighborhood party.

Last and most important, do not shy away from spending time with them or making those frequent calls just to say hello. It so easy to tell ourselves we don't know what to say after tragedy strikes, when the reality is that reaching out is all that matters.

Obviously, we have to take our cues from the people who are grieving. We can't be offended or back off just because we're rebuffed. And if grief seems to be evolving into depression, don't just dismiss it as part of the process. Make sure that they get help.

If you've had to deal with a recent loss during the holidays, please share with us the things that helped you get through those difficult days. What did your friends do that helped the most? Or if you've reached out to someone in a special way, tell us what you did.

Meantime, I wish you much joy, not only during the holidays, but for the coming year.

Sherryl Woods

Media madness

2007-12-09T04:53:00.000-08:00

Way back when, I studied journalism at Ohio State University. In those days one of the many, many rules drilled into our heads was to keep our opinions, beliefs and personal comments out of the story. It was a good rule, but apparently it has been buried under an avalanche of "new" journalism.

I was reminded of this just recently as I watched news reports flowing out of Miami about the death of Washington Redskins defensive star Sean Taylor. Like many people I had an interest in this story because he grew up in Miami, was an amazing player at the University of Miami and because as a pro he was playing for the team I grew up with in Washington. His girlfriend, Jackie Garcia, grew up on Key Biscayne where I now live. Her dad, Rene Garcia, and uncle, actor Andy Garcia, live here as well. It's a small island. Most of us have had our Andy "sightings." In fact, just this week, the driver who took me to the airport for a business trip, had driven Andy to Sean Taylor's funeral the day before. So, in some odd way, the story of Taylor's death was personal.

As I watched some of the coverage on TV, I was appalled to see what journalism has come to -- a sea of sensationalism and speculation. One of the worst was an interview by CNN's Rick Sanchez. A product of Miami's most sensationalistic news operation, Sanchez has taken his brand of journalism to a national network. First, he "interviewed" another CNN reporter on the scene in Miami, discussing his own experiences covering the city's crime. Then in what purported to be an interview with Taylor's friend and fellow player, Clinton Portis, he asked the kind of challenging, antagonistic questions best reserved for the witness stand or maybe 60 Minutes. Portis wasn't once allowed to complete an answer, or at least he wasn't during the few minutes before I switched stations in total disgust. Not that Portis was shy about trying to answer and put Sanchez right back in his place, but this wasn't the time or situation for this kind of reporting.

Often, the worst instances of this kind of "journalism" occur during breaking news, when endless amounts of airtime must be filled whether there's one shred of solid information of not. Anchors interview reporters. Reporters try to grab an expert, who may or may not be on the scene, who may or may not have any actual knowledge about what's really going on, and the next thing you know "facts" are being spewed by people who don't have even one solid piece of credible information.

The reporting in the aftermath of Taylor's tragic murder in his own home wasn't the first time I've had cause to wonder what's happening with today's media. Every single time some TV station does one of its instant polls on a court case or some international incident, I cringe. Viewers aren't in the courtroom. Even those of us who consider ourselves to be reasonably well-informed don't know what evidence was presented in the kind of detail needed to make a judgment about whether a verdict was justified or not. This is just TV giving people a forum to speak out, whether they have one iota of factual information or not.

I've focused on TV here, because not only was this my "beat" when I covered the industry for newspapers in Ohio and Miami, this is also where some of the worst examples seem to take place. Reporters all too often become the story, rather than covering the story. It's little wonder that the public doesn't trust the media and, frankly, we're all worse off because we can't.

If you've seen TV reports that made you cringe or news stories that are more about the reporter's views than the facts of the event they're covering -- and I'm not refering to opinion page pieces, but front page stories -- tell us about them. Maybe if the media begins to understand that their vital role in society is being diminished because the lines between reporting and opinion are blurring, they'll go back to the old rule of journalism -- keeping themselves out of the story and letting the facts speak for themselves.

Sherryl Woods

Ho-Ho, Oh No!!!

2007-12-02T05:22:00.000-08:00

I swear to you that I have not been so stuffed from Thanksgiving that I've been unable to post. Instead, I have been chained to my computer writing the proposals for three new books for 2009. I have now been freed, just in time to discover that Christmas is right around the corner. Oh, no!

Last year, my first holiday season in 10 years without owning a bookstore and gift shop, I made a particularly horrendous discovery. It is much harder to get all the Christmas shopping done when you can't do it in your own store. I actually had to go out to real stores in actual malls with mobs and mobs of people. How do you do it? I was about to tear my hair out.

Now I absolutely love the holidays. I love finding exactly the right gift for people. I even love wrapping so much that I keep trying to convince a friend of mine to ask his boss if I can come into their shop and wrap gifts for their customers this season. So far these guys, who think slapping a bow on a box will do the trick, have declined my generous offer. I also love decorating, listening to holiday music and, when I have the willpower not to eat everything coming out of the oven, I love baking. What I hate are mob scenes and traffic.

I have come up with a few tricks, which I will share. However, if you take advantage of these tricks and steal my parking space from me, there will be consequences.

First, shop in all major discount stores such as Target or Wal-Mart on weekdays and no later than 8 a.m.

Second, if you absolutely must shop in a department store in a mall, find out what time the doors open, be in the parking lot at least 15 minutes prior to that opening time, and in the door the second some jovial employee unlocks it. If possible, be out of the store again within the hour.

Third -- and this probably should be first, now that I think about it -- plan these excursions. Decide ahead of time exactly who you're shopping for that day and what you have in mind. That way you can avoid my tendency to go into Target for three things and come out with two dozen items, many for myself.

Fourth, regarding Christmas cards, buy them the very first time you come across any you like, even if it's not yet Halloween (okay, take this advice next year). Address them while watching football on Sundays, or any other time that has you stationed in front of the TV with your family watching something you don't especially care about. Get the addressing and stamps done -- the mindless part of the task, then if you like to write personalized notes, do that when you have a quiet moment on your own.(Do those ever happen this time of year?)

Fifth, and this is a new one for me, wrap as you buy. I bought a bunch of gift bags in various sizes, tissue paper, gift wrap and ribbon and have it set out. When I get home from shopping, I wrap, stuff, label or whatever then put the ready-to-go gift in whichever grouping it belongs in -- family, friends, business associates. Of course, if I were as organized as I'm pretending to be right now, I would finish shopping for each group before moving onto the next one, but alas, it hasn't worked that way. However, I am proud to say that three boxes of gifts were shipped out of here on Saturday. I'd feel better about that if there weren't another half-dozen boxes to go.

Today, my first day of freedom from writing for a few weeks, I've noticed that a department store I need to visit opens at 10 a.m. I'm on my way. Happy holidays, everyone!

Giving (stress-free) thanks

2007-11-19T11:02:00.000-08:00

Okay, here we are practically on the eve of Thanksgiving and many of you are braving grocery store mobs to pick up the turkey, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing ingredients, pie ingredients and whatever else is essential to your annual holiday feast. The idealist in me loves the image of all that hustle and bustle, the aromas wafting through the house, the family descending for a few hours of hopefully civil, if not totally wonderful camaraderie.

Experience, however, has been less than blissful. Maybe it's because I'm not the world's best cook. Maybe it's because at least some of my family -- not me, of course -- is dysfunctional. Or maybe it's simply that through the years I've watched the reason for the holiday -- giving thanks for life's blessings -- get lost in a stressed out haze of food preparation, arguments and watching an entire meal that took hours to prepare disappear in the blink of an eye. I admit it, I'm jaded. I was, after all, a journalist. It goes with the cynical territory.

That said, I do love Thanksgiving and the whole idea of taking one day to be grateful for all the things we tend to take for granted the rest of the year. . . including our dysfunctional families. And I love turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie.

So, more and more in recent years I've joined friends or extended family members for Thanksgiving dinner in a favorite restaurant. No muss, no fuss, no frayed tempers. Truly reasons to be thankful. I'm doing that again on Thursday, getting together with good friends for a relaxed celebration. Not one of us will have to bake a turkey or a pie. None of us will have to get lumps out of the gravy. And there will be no dishes to load into a dishwasher afterwards, at least not by us.

Maybe the meal won't be exactly the same as what I remember from my childhood. The recipes may vary, though I suspect the chef's skills will exceed mine, or those of anyone in my family.
And, best of all, I will have all that extra time to give thanks for family and friends and for you, the many readers who've been in touch with me over the years. I wish you the joy of a homecooked meal, if that is a tradition dear to your heart, but more importantly I wish you a gathering of friends and family who mean everything to you. And for those of you separated from loved ones, I wish you a speedy and safe reunion at the first opportunity.

In the meantime, if you have a favorite Thanksgiving tradition or recipe you'd like to share with us, please do. And for those of you planning to brave airports or highways, be safe and share your travel tales with us once you're home. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!

Sherryl Woods

Where's the Starbucks?

2007-11-13T20:34:00.000-08:00

I admit it; I’m a city girl. As an urban dweller, I had taken some things for granted—the neighborhood Starbucks, a choice of movie theaters, Chinese take-out, and high speed Internet connection. These are luxuries I had grown accustomed to. But that all changed when my husband took a job as a full-time fireman in a rural fire department.

When I say rural, I mean the boondocks—the town boasts a population of three thousand. It’s an old mining town stuck out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and desert. Civilization is a forty-minute drive away.

I wasn’t thrilled with the move, but really what choice did I have? There was a rule on the books saying that any fireman had to live within the town borders.

Weeks of packing, and suddenly I found myself smack dab in the midst of small town living. Everywhere I went people demanded to know who I was and where I lived. People I had never seen before waved at me as I drove by. I was accustomed to being a faceless cog in the city; now I felt as though I was constantly being stalked by strangers.

Slowly I learned to adapt. I bought a French press, learned to use a wok and joined Netflicks. It was an awkward, and at times painful, adjustment, but I survived. Still, sometimes I can’t help but laugh at the odd quirks that come with small town living.

The UPS driver will find me wherever I am. He stalks my red Bronco, the only one in town, and he will deliver my packages to me as I stand in line at the bank.

Everyone in town owns a scanner. Let’s face it, there’s not a lot going on, and if something is going on, everyone wants to know about it. I got tired of being out of the information loop and demanded my own scanner so now I can sit with the rest of the population and listen in on all the fire and police calls.

All aspects of your life are up for public scrutiny. This summer we decided it was time to get a pool. It didn’t take long to realize everyone was keeping track of the pool’s progress. I was bombarded daily with questions from my bank clerk, the UPS man, the grocer, the postmistress, the bank manager. The foremost question on everyone’s mind? When was it going to be done?

The desert is now all around my house, which means the creepies and crawlies don’t have far to creep and crawl. Every year we find five or six scorpions in the house. The most memorable scorpion experience over the years? The morning I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry myself off only to realize there was a scorpion hanging on it. I went from dead tired and half awake, to wide eyed and screaming in a matter of seconds.

I have to admit I have grown to love the odd quirks of small-town living.

So, readers, do you live in a big city or small town? And what are things you love about it? And the things that drive you nuts? And if you join in and give us some examples of your big city or small town life I will get Sherryl to randomly pick from the comments, and I will send the person she picks something from Superior, Arizona. Thanks, Sherryl, for allowing me to stop by and blog.

Chaoscat, www.romancejunkies.com