Big City Saga

MVY -- We spent three weeks in New York between Key West and Martha's Vineyard. The weather may have been dreary but the city certainly wasn't. Arrived at our apt (after a weekend in Baltimore) on a damp Saturday night. Took me half an hour to realize my travel purse was missing. It contained my wallet with driver's license, credit cards, iPhone, a couple of prescription meds, a can of Simply Saline, a tube of Polysporin ointment and whatever else I'd managed to stuff into its many zippered compartments. I was also carrying a black shoulder purse, a garment bag, and had a small wheelie in the trunk of the cab.



I remembered the story a caterer once told me - of how she'd left a beatifully decorated platter of crudites in the trunk of a taxi. At the time I'd thought, What a ditz!

George dialed my cell phone and left a message while I called the taxi commission to report my missing travel purse. They gave me two phone numbers where taxi drivers can turn in packages/purses/etc. They reminded me always to ask for a receipt when getting out of a cab, or at least to make a note of the taxi number, listed on the back of the front seat for all passengers to see. You'd think this was my first time in the city.

I called the train station, thinking I could have left my purse on the train, because George was with me and he paid for the taxi, which means I wouldn't have needed my wallet so wouldn't have noticed my travel purse was missing. But the very nice woman on the other end of the phone said the train I'd traveled on had already been sent to the yard for cleaning and wouldn't be available for a search until Monday morning.

By now more than an hour had gone by. We were about to cancel my credit cards when the phone rang and a guy asked if we were missing a gray purse. He said he'd found one exactly where the taxi had dropped us off. He was coming off work at a neighboring building and there it was, in the street. He took it with him on the subway to Queens and when he got off he saw that a recent call had been made to my iPhone so he called back. He offered to return the purse the next morning at 11am in front of the Barnes&Noble (how fitting is that?) on 68th St and Broadway, near the subway stop. George told him there would be a reward and asked for his name. Bernard, he answered.

Was this for real? We went out for breakfast the next morning, stopped at the ATM for reward money, then planted ourselves in front of B&N. I expected a guy wearing my bag over his shoulder for easy identification. But the young man who approached us was carrying an Abercrombie shopping bag. He recognized me from my photo ID. He gave me my purse. I hugged him and gave him the reward. He explained the purse must have been run over because the can of Simply Saline had exploded so he'd thrown it out before it soaked everything. We chatted for a while about his summer job, working in one of the big apartment houses right near mine. I said I'd like to write a letter to the board of the building where he was working, commending him.


Later I told my story to one of the doormen at our building who said he knew everyone working at the building where Bernard was working for the summer. The next day he reported there was no one named Bernard working there. Either way, and wherever he works, Bernard is my hero and I'd give him a reference any day. Thanks, Bernard!

This should be the end of the story, right? But ten days later I did it again. This time I was carrying the small black purse in the photo above, getting out of a taxi at exactly the same place. Got up to our apt and realized I had no key, which meant - oh no - I had no purse!

When I was about 14 I lost my key so many times my father (who'd had enough of me coming home and ringing the bell after he and my mother were asleep) punched a hole in the corner of my wallet and attached my key. Since then I've hardly lost anything. Really. And I've never forgotten anything in a cab. Well, maybe a cheapie umbrella, but who hasn't?

I was tired, embarrassed, and angry at myself when I called George at the office and told him I'd done it again. But George actually sounded pleased because he'd just signed up for an iPhone tracking system and now he could try it out. He dialed it up while I was still on the line. Aha! It's in midtown, on 48th St. But wait...now it's.... And that's when he clicked the fatal button. It not only ended the tracking program, it "wiped my phone"(meaning no data and totally dead).

This time we knew I was cooked. I'd had my Florida driver's license with me but just one credit card which George promptly cancelled. Yes, my key was in the purse but there was no NY address or phone number. That was good. It meant we wouldn't have to call a locksmith to re-key our apartment. By now I had a headache and I lay down to rest.

An hour later the phone rang. It was my literary agent's assistant asking if I'd lost my purse. What?! She gave me a phone number and the name of a guy to call. When I asked how he'd tracked me down he said he'd found my driver's license, googled me, went to my website, found my agent's name and number and called her. This guy was as good as Nancy Drew! I told him I'd come to his place (he lived on the Upper East Side) to retrieve my purse, but he volunteered to drop it off at my building since he had a meeting in my neighborhood (Upper West).

My headache lifted. Things like this just don't happen, do they? Twice in three weeks?

I waited outside while the doormen guessed what kind of car he'd be driving. We were all surprised when a vintage red Porsche pulled up in front of the building with a cute dog in the passenger seat. (Okay, I admit I didn't know it was a vintage Porsche.)He got out of the car. I almost knocked him down with a big hug (actually, he was a lot bigger than me and there was no chance of me knocking him down). He pulled my purse out of the car. He'd found it in the street on 39th St as he was boarding a bus. He'd tried my iPhone but couldn't get it to work (thanks to -- ta da! --the "wipe" button). We chatted for a while. He refused any reward but accepted a signed book for his 19 year old daughter.

Another hero! What a city! Am I lucky or what?

On the Vineyard I bought myself a summer bag, one that practically screams to be noticed. George says it's the ugliest purse he's ever seen. He says if he has to look at that all summer he'll be nauseous until Labor Day. I said I'd get another and give this away if he feels that strongly about it.


It's been a couple of days now and I don't see any signs that he's feeling sick. His appetite is just fine. He ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich for lunch.

I have to travel to Chicago next week. The ugly bag won't be going with me. A friend suggests I pin my purse to my underwear instead. Stay tuned....
xx Judy

SAT (For Better or Worse)

Key West -- It's that time of year for those of you who will be applying to college in the fall. You have to take them. You have no choice (well, almost no choice). But look at it this way. You can't possibly do as poorly as I did. (More about that in a minute.)

A few years ago I was asked to give the commencement address at Mount Holyoke College. Usually I think long and hard about accepting such an invitation. But not this time. From the moment their invitation reached me I didn’t think twice. They had no way of knowing this, but they'd given me a second chance.

To explain I have to take you back to 1956 when I was a senior at Battin High school in Elizabeth, NJ, the only all girls public high school in the state. When it came time to apply to colleges I knew next to nothing about the different schools, though I’d heard there were a lot of boys in Boston and boys were high on my list (but that's another story). I knew very little about the College Boards (SAT) either, except you had to take them. We didn’t have Kaplan courses or coaches to prepare us then, and our teachers never mentioned them.

I can still remember that sunny Saturday morning in May when my mother dropped me off at the Pingry School, site of the dreaded test. I remember opening the booklet and reading the first paragraph of the first essay. I remember it not making any sense to me. I read it again, or tried to, but by then my heart was pounding, my mouth, dry. The words on the page began to blur together. I had a fantasy of getting up from my seat and calmly walking out of the building, calmly walking away from Elizabeth, NJ.

Instead, I flipped through the test, the panic inside me rising – then I picked up my number 2 pencil and filled in all the little circles at random. No kidding. I really did that. When the test results came in my high school guidance counselor, who had never spoken to me before, called me into her office.

“You have to take the College Boards again,” she told me. “You’ve got the grades. You’ve got the activities. But I want you to go to Mount Holyoke and you’ll never get in with this score.” (I think it was something like 350 -- that's probably as low a score as you can get -- which is why I don't recommend random answers.)

The only thing I knew about Mount Holyoke was they required the Afternoon Boards. (That's what we called the achievement tests) so I told the guidance counselor, “Never – I’m never taking any of those tests again.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

Cut to that invitation from Mount Holyoke. When I read they had the funding to try a different way of identifying students who might do well there -- that for three years they weren't going to require standardized test scores -- I knew I was going to give that commencement speech. And when I did I told them why that day meant so much to me. It wasn't just that I was there at last – it was that today I might even be accepted as a freshman. I thanked them for that on behalf of all of us whose minds work differently. I got my honorary degree and that day remains a highlight of my life.

I've been arguing against judging prospective students by their SAT scores for years. Doesn't test creativity, doesn't prove how well a student will do at college or at life.

So why am I kvelling (beaming, swelling with pride) that my grandson has just received his SAT scores and they hit the top? (He would not be happy if I told you his actual scores.) Partly because it's amazing to me that anyone with at least some of my genes could come up with scores like these. Especially in math! He actually likes standarized tests.

My husband says -- "You, of all people, Judy -- who've railed against these tests for years -- how can you be so impressed?" Sorry, George -- can't help it. I know it doesn't predict how you're going to do at real life. I mean, Amanda hated the SAT almost as much as I did. She graduated from U New Mexico and guess what? She's a huge success at life and has a thriving career as a political consultant. Much in demand. Nobody ever stops to ask how she did in her SAT.

I cut a story by Sara Rimer out of the New York Times on Monday, September 29, 2008. The headline reads:

Study of Standardized Admissions Tests Is Big Draw at College Conference

5,500 college admissions officials and high school guidance counselors gathered in Seattle at the annual conference of the National Association for College Admission Counseling. The main event was William R. Fitzsimmons's first public presentation of the findings of the Study of the Use of Standardized Tests in Undergraduate Admission. Basically, after he said the SAT had many advantages, he affirmed that they and other standardized admissions tests are "incredibly imprecise" when it comes to measuring academic ability and how well students will perform in college.

I'm sure the debate will go on for years. I have to thank NYU for accepting me as a student despite my dismal scores (and Boston U, and Syracuse). I was a good student. So is Elliot and I know he'll do well wherever he goes. Those scores of his may mean he has more options and it's always good to have more options. While test results don't tell the whole story (and he knows that) I'm a grandparent first, so I'm entitled to celebrate, right?

Which brings me back to the SAT. A stressful time for many of you, I know, especially today when everything might depend on financial aid. But try not to worry. If you want to go to college, if you're determined, you will. And you'll enjoy it, wherever you go. Wishing you well.
xx Judy

Mother's Day

Key West -- I still think of Mother's Day as a holiday celebrating my mother, my grandmother, and my Aunt Frances. When I was young all three would get orchid corsages and and we'd go to dinner at the Tavern Restaurant in Newark, where my father knew the owner. (Actually, everyone knew the owner, but I was just a kid and didn't know that.) It's funny, because I'm writing about the Tavern now, in the novel I've just started. As for orchids, they grow everywhere in Key West (which doesn't make them any less magical). When they're done blooming in a pot, just snip off the stem at the fourth joint, tie them to a tree, and they'll bloom for seasons to come.

I realize my children and grandson have different ideas of Mother's Day. Randy likes to shop and I don't -- or let's just say I like pretty things but I don't like going into stores, so unless it's easy to find, forget it. This is why Randy sends me something to wear each year. On Friday her package arrived with a lovely and delicate summer sweater. I talked to all four of my dear ones on Sunday (well, maybe talked is the wrong way of putting it because I have total laryngitis -- can't make a sound -- not fun, though I don't feel at all sick).

Larry told me he was sending a donation to Planned Parenthood this year because he'd seen the fund raising letter I'd signed suggesting that this would be a good way to honor your mother. (I've pasted a copy of the letter.)

How did such a gentle letter become the major brouhaha it did? Ask the vocal anti-choice crowd. I shouldn't have been surprised when the hateful e-mails flooded our office computer the next day saying things like....

You're killing off your customers.

You'll burn in hell.

You are a baby killer.

Then there's this argument in various forms:

-- I was a great fan of your books, growing up. They meant a lot to me but now that I know you support Planned Parenthood I would never let my childen read them. I'm going to tell our school principal, the librarian, and the teachers they should boycott your books, or burn them.

I want to ask these parents if they check to make sure all the books their children are reading are written by people wh0 support only those organizations and charities that they personally support. But I don't. I don't respond to hate mail.

It might have stopped there if Planned Parenthood hadn't sent out a second e-mail blast -- letting their supporters know I was under siege. They meant well, I know, and I'm the one who gave them permission, not stopping to think that this would fan the flames.

The next day, another story appeared in the anti-choice online zine, and along with another round of hate emails, came hundreds of supportive messages from those who believe in Planned Parenthood. Somehow word got out that I'd received death threats and the media jumped all over the story. The bloggers and twitterers were all abuzz. To set the record straight, I didn't get any serious death threats. Sure, there were emails reminding me what happened at this or that abortion clinic -- but this isn't the first time I was a target of the extreme right.

Despite what some people think, Planned Parenthood isn’t an abortion clinic. It is a health center that provides people with the proper tools to make the best, most informed decisions for them. It’s a place that offers breast cancer screenings, pelvic exams, pregnancy testing and planning, affordable birth control, STD testing, HPV vaccines, testicular cancer screenings for men, as well as issues of male infertility, education for all, and, yes, choice. Sometimes that means abortions.

May also is Teen Pregnancy Prevention Month. Surely the best way to avoid abortion, and reduce the numbers of unwanted babies born to teen mothers, is through sexuality education. But to those opposed to anything but abstinence education Planned Parenthood is well, evil.

As a college junior, about to be married, I asked my family doctor who to call to get information about birth control. He suggested Planned Parenthood, although it had a different name in 1959. I trembled as I made that call and ultimately hung up before I'd set up an appointment. I'd had a bad experience with a gynecologist at 14. At 21, I was still a virgin -- fear of pregnancy kept many of us virgins in those days. We had other ways of being sexual but we avoided intercourse, knowing if you got pregnant you were going to have the baby, like at least three of my high school classmates, smart girls who nevertheless found themselves pregnant before graduation. Abortion was illegal then. They were forced into hasty marriages and while the rest of us went off to college, they became parents before they were ready.

Ultimately I went to a doctor in NJ who knew my family doctor. He fitted me for a diaphragm and I went off on my honeymoon without the fear that I would become pregnant before we were ready to have children. There are many reasons I wish I'd gone to Planned Parenthood and not to that sexist doctor, who, it turns out, was a religious fanatic himself. Reasons I won't go into here. I wish I'd known then that at Planned Parenthood women are treated with respect.

When I read the Planned Parenthood online teen Q&A I feel glad that today's young women and men have a place to go to get information. I wish it had been there for me.

So Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers out there, and grandmothers, and special aunts, and thanks to all of you who sent messages of support. There are times when you have to stand up for what you believe in. It means a lot that so many of you stood with me.

xx Judy

Buzz buzz...

Key West -- Starting today (and for the next two weeks) I'll be answering questions and responding to comments on Randombuzzers.com Join me there if you can. I'm looking forward to it. It should be fun. Of course I won't be there 24/7 because I've started to actually write my new book. For a month or more I've been doing research, a process I've enjoyed. The real writing part isn't that enjoyable. At least not yet. Right now I'm wishing I'd never started. I'd forgotten how impossible first drafts are for me. George tells me I say this every time I start a new book. Maybe. I find myself thinking, thinking, thinking about my characters all day -- except for tap class (which is Friday and Saturday mornings). In tap class I'm always trying to make my feet do what my mind wants them to do. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm never sure what sounds my feet will make until Bruce, our teacher, calls on us individually.



I'm forcing myself to sit at my desk for a couple of hours every day, even if all I do is scribble in my notebook. Scribbling is how I get my best ideas. I think I have the voice of my first main character. There will be three characters telling this story -- at least that's what I think. I don't know much more than that. Stay tuned...

Did I mention I was bitten in the leg by a friend's small dog two weekends ago? The dog didn't like me twirling around the dance floor with his master, or do we say mistress if the master is a woman? Or do we say human or person? He bit right through my stretch capris. It was a very small bite and has healed nicely. And the night before that I was hit in the face by a flying nut from a walnut tree. I know -- it sounds funny -- but it didn't feel funny. My grandmother would have said, "Bad things happen in threes." (And it's true, I did turn my ankle on a balance box at the gym the next day.) Which takes me back to the subject of my book where bad things actually do happen in threes.

I'm thrilled to hear that Summer Sisters has just been published in the UK and so far the reviews and comments have been really good. I have to remind myself how many times I wanted to quit while I was writing that book. And how glad I am now that I didn't. The one to the left is the UK cover. The one on the right is the US cover.


Key West is totally gorgeous right now. At night you can catch the scent of jasmine. I love to sit outside listening to music for an hour after dinner. How lucky am I to spend 7 months a year here! See you on Randombuzzers, I hope.
xx Judy

Losing Judith Krug

Friends of intellectual freedom have lost a dynamic leader. Judith Krug, director of the American Library Association's Office of Intellectual Freedom since 1967, and one of the founders of the Freedom to Read Foundation, was my hero. When I saw her in Chicago last September, she said, "Don't worry about me. I'm too mean to die." That was her fierce warrior persona. That was her let's laugh about this and talk about something else way of dealing with her illness. She had had surgery and chemo for stomach cancer but there she was, cheering us on -- a group of writers gathered to commemorate Banned Books Week, an event started by Judith in 1982. There she was, fighting for the rights of young readers as enthusiastically as ever. I teased her for wearing what I called a "Sarah Palin" jacket (actually, a jacket I coveted and even tried on in NY before realizing that all the jackets in my favorite sportswear section of my favorite department store were the very jackets Sarah was sporting on the campaign trail). Judy begged forgiveness explaining that she really wanted that jacket and we laughed together.

We met in Atlanta in 1982 at a Fred Friendly Seminar moderated by Benno Schmidt, then a colleague of George's at Columbia Law School. I was nervous. Out of my element. I felt as if I were back in 4th grade praying the teacher wouldn't call on me. Benno did call on me and I stumbled through a couple of answers then watched in awe as the articulate speaker on the opposite side of the table said exactly what I was thinking, only so much better. I remember thinking, Wow, she's brilliant! She can speak on my behalf anytime. That was my introduction to Judy Krug, and the beginning of a long friendship, both professional, and personal. It was hard to say "no" to Judy when she asked you to do something, even if you didn't want to fly to Chicago in September because you were trying to write a book. Because Judy would always be there for you if you needed her.

This is the woman who defended what we wrote, who defended the librarians who selected our books for their collections, and most importantly, who defended the rights of our young readers. For four decades she used her abundant energy and knowledge to protect the Constitutional rights of citizens granted under the First Amendment. She raced around the country speaking out wherever and whenever she was needed. Let's just call her amazing, because she was.

"We're the only country in the world where everybody has access to the library and everything in it," she told The Washington Post in 1994. "If you don't like something, okay, tell your kids you don't want them to read it. That works. It really works. Every once in a while, the kids are going to defy you. But so what?" That quote is so Judith! It's part of why I loved her. Like Madeline, my first literary heroine, Judy Krug showed no fear.

The loss to our community of writers, librarians, and readers everywhere is too great to contemplate. The loss to her husband, children, and grandchildren is even greater.

On Sunday, July 12, at the annual ALA convention in Chicago, Judy will be posthumously awarded the William J. Brennan Award during the 40th anniversary celebration of the Freedom to Read Foundation at the Chicago Museum of Art. Judy hoped she'd be there to accept her award in person. I hoped so, too, and not only because I'll be presenting that award to her. If you can, join us in this tribute to a true freedom fighter.

Goodbye, old friend. I'll miss you.
Judy

Mother Nature

Key West -- it's good to be back! Isn't that half the reason we go away -- so we can appreciate how good it feels to be home again?

This is how lucky we were --just missed some brutal spring storms in New Orleans. And those of you who know me know I'm phobic about thunderstorms. Like a frightened dog, I need to be in a small space and low to the floor. We didn't have a dog at our hotel in New Orleans but we did have Clarice, the hotel cat.

Clarice would come to our room via the open window in the early morning, make herself at home on our bed, and hang around until after breakfast - the most delicious buttermilk biscuits ever -- still warm from sitting on a hot stone in a covered basket -- with strawberry jam on the side. What a way to start the day! Loved staying at this small hotel in the middle of the French Quarter.

This is the window Clarice used at the The Soniat House

We were there to see old friends, Richard and Annie, and what a good visit we had. Annie gave us a tour of the city, focusing on the areas that were hardest hit by Katrina. After our tour we sat down at Cafe du Monde to try a New Orleans beignet. At first I was skeptical. After all, they're made of fried dough -- but as George pointed out, I love doughnuts (yes, but am always sorry after indulging) -- but these were something else -- light and incredibly delicious, topped with powdered sugar.

A highlight of my visit to New Orleans was getting to see a KIPP school up close. Jonathan Bertsch was my enthusiastic guide.

We dropped in to say hello to classes from Pre-K to 8th grade. The 5th graders had a lot of questions for me, including "Do you make a lot of money?" I always try to explain that writers are paid royalties, a percentage of the price of the book. They understood 10% but couldn't believe how many copies you'd have to sell to support yourself as a writer. (Sad but true!)

From New Orleans we drove to Hattiesburg and Southern Miss (for those who don't know, as I didn't until a few days ago, that's what the locals call the University of Southern Mississippi) for the Fay B. Kaigler Children's Book Festival. George and I were invited to stay at the President's house and now I understand what southern hospitality really means. Dr. Saunders and her staff couldn't have been more generous and welcoming. Plus I got to spend time with Pat Scales, uber librarian, and defender of intellectual freedom.


Also enjoyed being with Arthur Yorinks, who's as witty in person as he is in his books. Check out Hey, Al, and you'll see what I mean.



You want more luck when it comes to weather, how's this? On Thursday, the day of the medallion presentation (I joined an impressive list of former winners for lifelong contributions to the field of children's literature, some of whom inspired me when I was starting out, so was really thrilled and very appreciative) -- but back to stormy weather -- the radar showed two major storms, one on each side of Hattiesburg. Each time George checked, the storms were moving closer and closer. We heard that schools were dismissing students at noon, adults were scurrying for cover, and as we pulled up to the theater where I'd be speaking, the sky turned black. You think I was nervous about my speech? Not compared to what was happening with Mother Nature. I imagined stepping up to the mic just as the power went out. I'd be alone on stage in darkness, lightning flashing all around and...and....

But the presentation went as scheduled, I received my medallion from Southern Miss Provost Bob Lyman. I'd sent a smiling photo for the engraver but teeth weren't his specialty, so he artistically closed my mouth. When I had to come up with an idea for the reverse side of the medal I thought about my most autobiographical book, Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, which takes place in Miami Beach, and how, these days, when I sit at my desk in Key West I look out at my tropical garden. So palm trees made sense.

I not only survived my talk, I even enjoyed myself. And when we left the building an hour later, the sky was blue. The storms had converged north of Hattiesburg. Can't tell you how relieved I was! Off we went to the book signing at the campus B&N. Signed for the next two hours.

After a party that night, we packed up, and the next morning at 7:30 left for the airport (a two hour drive to New Orleans) but with Pat Scales along for company it felt more like 15 minutes. Pat and I will be together again at ALA in Chicago in July. Children's book people are a friendly group. It's good to hang out with them -- makes you proud to be a part of their world.
xx Judy

Meg and Judy, Elliot and Emily, and...

Key West -- What a week!

Meg Cabot and I did a gig for the Friends of the Library. We decided we'd ask each other questions on stage, so we went to lunch a few weeks ago and made a list, but didn't tell each other the answers. We wanted to be surprised along with the audience. Meg was a great interviewer. She jumped in and asked almost all the questions. After I answered I'd turn to her and say, What about you? Then she'd say a line or two and ask the next question. Mostly, we talked about our journeys as writers, and our process. When Meg asked, Are you a plotter or a seat-of-your-pants-er? I admitted I'm definitely a seat-of-your-pants-er. That is, I don't carefully plot my story first. As I write I get to know my characters. I can count on them to lead me the rest of the way. The best part of writing for me is the surprise -- and my characters always surprise me. Meg said it's pretty much the same with her. We had a great audience who had their own questions to ask.

And in the first row of the audience was my grandson, Elliot and his girlfriend, Emily. They'd just arrived to spend spring break with us. Since Elliot loves Meg and Benjamin we all went out to dinner together after the event. That was SO much fun!

The next day George and I took Elliot and Emily on the Danger (that's the name of the sailboat, not the event). We went kayaking, snorkeling (them, not me -- I don't like putting my face in the water).


At the end of the week Elliot said it was the best vacation he'd ever had. Hey...that's high praise coming from a grandson. Okay, so it wasn't because of me ( as you can see) but still... We all enjoyed ourselves and each other.
















On the day Elliot and Emily left, part of the Cooper clan from Baltimore arrived for two nights. They got to play tourist during the day but we all had a yummy dinner at Blue Heaven. (Save me from their Key Lime pie!)



Before they left Matthew and Jessica, with the help of Levi and Reed, finished the 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle Emily and Elliot started but didn't have time to finish.















In case you're wondering what I've been doing since then -- (no, I haven't taken to my bed although it was a tempting idea) -- I've been preparing my talk for U. Southern Miss next Thursday. They're giving me a medal and I'm giving them the story of my life as a writer (more or less). Will let you know how it goes.

Tomorrow George and I leave for New Orleans, where I've never been! Three nights there, then Hattiesburg (and Southern Miss) another place I've never been. Really looking forward to this break before I settle in to work on my new book idea.
xx Judy