Last night, as Gordy tucked him in bed he said, “Dad, it’s the night before back to school, what if I can’t fall asleep? You know like the night before Christmas?” His excitement for the first day of school was contagious. To me, it seems like a clear sign that the summer of seven was a success.

More to come, but in the meantime here’s a teaser that sums up where we’re going:  Broadsheet360 always more than 140 characters.

I promise I will not monopolize this post with any sort of Harry Potter review. Seriously, what’s left to be said?  

What our little day excursion did get me thinking about though was magic.  More specifically how the pursuit of magic seems to be eroding in our culture.  One of my friends was recently lamenting about the amount of homework her two and half year old son brings home from preschool.  My friend works full time and has a newborn, so confessed she usually does her preschooler’s homework late in the evening after the kids have gone to bed.  In our household, the erosion of magic, comes in the form of standardize testing.  My first grader trots home with a practice math test in his backpack every day.  Fortunately for him, the tests are a breeze, but I know that’s not the case for many of his classmates, and more importantly what other innovative projects do teachers have to give up in order to prepare today’s students for the litany of standardize tests before them?

Add to this the assortment of technological choices our kiddos have at their fingertips after-school like:  TV, video games, cell phones, and social media.  Not to mention the unyielding trend of organized after-school activities.  I remember hopping on my bike and tooling around the neighborhood after school, or playing Little House on the Prairie with the neighbor kids in my backyard.  Now, the expectation is carting our kids from soccer to piano, and dance to art class.

I suppose that’s why spending a day immersed in magic resonated with me.  Aside from the whimsical nature of the exhibit itself, think potting Mandrakes and playing a round of Quidditch, all three kids were sucked out of their test-taking and technology worlds.  My tweener niece and nephew didn’t focus on looking cool or texting friends.  Soon to be seven, Luke didn’t beg to play on my iPhone or plug into a movie on the train ride home.  Instead, they chomped on chocolate frogs, pretended to stupefy each other, and rambled on about how amazing it would be if magic really existed.  And, for that moment, it did.

First and foremost, thanks to all of you who’ve taken the time to read the book.  Launching in the height of the holidays didn’t exactly lend itself to light reading.  As most of you know I’m a mystery junkie (in fact I’m fast at work on my second book, a mystery at the moment) which seems like the ideal holiday read.  I was touched by how quickly many of you read the book, despite my warnings and the madness of December.  Not to worry, if you haven’t read it yet there’s plenty of time.  In fact, I think it’s a perfect post-holiday read.    

Secondly, thanks to those of you who’ve emailed, written, facebooked, tweeted, and called me with your feedback and response to the story.  This by far has been the highlight of the entire process.  It’s so fascinating to learn what each person takes away and brings to the book based on their own personal journey.  I feel like this alone is the best gift of all and has allowed for such interesting conversations and connections with friends and strangers alike. 

And, finally thanks to those of you who’ve reviewed the book and sent it on to friends, colleagues, and neighbors.  If you haven’t had a chance to review the book, please do so on Amazon.  I promise all reviews are welcome.  Clearly, if you’ve read the book you understand that honesty is a critical value to me (sometimes at my own detriment) so whether you have glowing or constructive feedback I’d love for you to share it.

It’s onward to the next project for me.  I’m looking forward to writing something entirely different and hopefully fun.  Next time, I can almost guarantee a light holiday read!

But on to other news…my blog is just one of many things that has sat neglected while enjoying this near-perfect Pacific Northwest summer.  It’s been an unusual summer in some ways as we’ve flipped between a flurry of events and ultra-lazy days lounging in the sun.  We’ve been reading some of my childhood favorites, including John D. Fitzgerald’s The Great Brain.  I so love hearing Luke laugh out loud at the adventures of J.D, Tom and Sweyn.  “The Water Closet” chapter has gotten a ton of play in our household.  Some stories, particularly those involving toilets and first grade boys, stand the test of time.

Our trip to Italy may have permanently ruined him for childhood camps.  After talking up how cool the Dino Camp he attended last week was going to be, he was convinced that he and his buddies would be excavating and searching for actual dinosaur bones and historical sites.  His comment after the first day, “Uh, Mom, we just dug for plastic stuff, it wasn’t a real dig site like in Rome.”  Right.  Good to know.

Summer vacation has also consisted of building a secret passage in the hedge between our house and the neighbor’s, S’mores on the BBQ, sleeping in, hours spent exploring outside, and an addiction to the mindless TV show Wipeout. 

While the boys have gone off on muddy fishing adventures, I’ve been working with my publisher on the launch of Underneath the Ash!  I still pinch myself sometimes when I think about it.  Check back tomorrow for a sneak peek of the cover design.  I love it.  I know my mom would have too, and that’s the best gift of the entire summer.

Coffee shops signage touted “Peppermint mochas now in season.”  Really?  Under a backdrop of swaying palms, perpetual sunshine and Luke bowling oranges in my brother’s backyard it felt more like iced latte season to me.  I suppose it’s all a matter of perspective.  As we lounged on the beach clad in shorts and flip flops, natives walked past bundled from head to toe in scarves and stocking caps.  That’s the joy of travel for me feeling transported, even when in this case we were a mere two states away from home. 

So this Thanksgiving we embraced the warmth of the sun, the smell of turkey on the grill, and the delightful taste of peppermint mochas under palm trees.  Regardless of location or the temperature outside, the best part of traveling south was spending the holiday with family.

The one exception to my No Christmas before Thanksgiving rule that I’m willing to bend on is my Christmas list.  Now wait.  Don’t worry I’m not selling out here.  It’s more that I need to buy a little extra time to decide exactly what I want beneath the tree. 

It goes without saying that I consume a fair number of books.  Living in the Portland area doesn’t help since Powell’s nearly in my backyard.  Not to mention the slew of other indie bookstores and big box shops for those times I’ve gotta get a fix on cheap mystery before the weekend.  That’s not to say I don’t purchase books online every now and then, but I much prefer the experience of a brick and mortar store.  I like to browse shelves and linger over a coffee.  I like the low background music and lofty energy found in bookstores.  That’s why the Kindle hasn’t appealed to me. 

But now, Barnes and Noble is launching the Nook which might tempt me into diving into the world of e-books.  The Nook allows users to lend e-books to friends, offers endless shelf space and cute covers.  Oh no!  It’s easy to envision myself lounging on a plush chair at my local B & N with my Nook in hand, or downloading a title while holding a hard copy in my hand.

Weigh in here fellow readers…To “e” or not to “e” that’s the holiday question for me this season.  And, Thanksgiving is still a holiday too thank you very much.

Two of my earliest reading memories are practicing phonics with sandpaper cards my mom made by hand and reading Dick and Jane books aloud.  As a child I loved this time spent with my mother.  I’d scoot a chair from our dining room into the adjoining kitchen and “read” to her while she baked cookies or scrubbed the stove.  Now as an adult I have a deeper appreciation, not only for the gift of reading she gave me from such an early age, but also how impressive her teaching skills were. 

In the learning to read quest there are typically two camps:  phonics versus sight.  When I was working in speech therapy I remember many a heated battle in elementary school libraries over which method brought the greatest success.  But my mom’s simple solution was both.  The best part is that I didn’t even realize it until Luke cracked open the first of the Dick and Jane book a couple of nights ago.

He breezed through reading it.  His little body bursting with pride as he turned to me and said, “I’m reading Mom!  I’m actually reading.”  The simple repetitive words and phrases allowed him to build confidence word by word.  Since then he’s devoured the remaining books we borrowed and told anyone who’ll listen that he can read.  Looks like it might have been more than coincidence that I was drawn to the Dick and Jane books.  It also looks like another library trip is in order.

Here’s where my guilty pleasure comes into play.  When questioned, should I reveal my secret source for red velvet bliss, or offer up a white lie and direct those seeking confectionery delight to a perfectly suitable recipe like the one above? 

You guessed it.  I revealed my source.  Inhaling, I stared at my feet and muttered, “Um, I found it in a culinary mystery.”

“A what?”  someone responded. 

“Huh?” questioned another. 

Yes, it’s true, I’m secretly addicted to culinary mysteries–pure candy for the mind.  A sweet treat before bed is absorbing myself in one of these tasty gems .  Sure, I read a lot of non-fiction.  I consider myself well-versed in the classics, and my literary fiction repertoire includes many novels not found on any Oprah reading list.  But, I feel like it’s time to come clean about my cheap mystery fix.  Titles like “Dying for Chocolate” and “Espresso Shot” call out to me in the book store.  I’ve read late into the night trying to decipher who the cookie killer is.  And, I’ve decided I’m fine with it.  Reading these delectable tales serves up a healthy dose of escapism for me.  Plus, the recipes are to die for!