Free Stuff, Part One

This is how I imagine winter to be at the beginning of the season:



(Photo by ulife.vpul.upenn.edu)

Think hot cider, a walk through woods, a new pair of mittens, Marc remarking on how very luminous I appear against the falling snow.

Turns out, I'm not luminous. I'm pale. And getting a little cranky.



I feel the doldrums of January call for giveaways. So let the merriment begin!

Deal of the moment: E-mail me at kimberly@kimberlystuart.com to be automatically entered to win a petite copy of Act Two. I assure you it contains the whole book; it's merely handbag size so you're set in all airport, doctor, and jury selection waiting areas.

I'll give away three of these little guys, so your chances are pretty awesome. Drawing will close Tuesday, January 25 at high noon.

Also, don't forget to mark your calendar if you're in the Des Moines area:

LAUNCH EVENT FOR OPERATION BONNET~ Monday, February 7, 2011, at 6:30 p.m. Come ready to par-tay (in a literary sort of way).

Say A Prayer

One thing they don't tell you when you sign up to write books is that you should be ready to get your Paris Hilton on. You know Paris, right?



The Queen of Self Promotion? I don't tote around my own Chihuahua, though I do carry a 20-pound toddler with a runny nose. And I don't own hotels. Not even one. However, I am expected to self promote when it comes to book selling. Operation Bonnet comes out February 1, and I should be mentioning it to you roughly every eighteen seconds. I should be telling you about the launch event (Downtown Central Library in Des Moines, February 7, 6:30 p.m.!) and asking you politely to attend. (I might get less polite as the date approaches.)

And I will. I'll do my best to be a book floozie in the near future.

But not today.

Today I want to tell you about Clara.

Clara is a sweet, inquisitive, friendly six-year-old who fell down on the school playground shortly before Thanksgiving. When her doctor started poking around her bruised belly, one question led to another and Clara and her family discovered she has cancer.

Here's Clara (far right) with her sister and her mom at the Nutcracker days before she fell.



I know Clara's mama and her grandma. I ache to even write these words because I love these women and their babies, too. How do you hold your little girl and tell her everything is different now? How do you brush her hair and not weep as it begins to fall out in clumps? How do you encourage your child to stand firm in the knowledge her God loves her with a boundless, impermeable love when your own knees are wobbly, weak and worn?

Please pray for Clara. For her sweet mama, Rachel, for her daddy, Brian. For her brother, her sister, her Nonie, her grandpa, for all the people who are surrounding her with love and grace to cushion this fall. Pray for her to regain her appetite, for her smile to return, for these next precarious months to be surprisingly calm and sweet as her body wars with itself.

I have every confidence God is writing a great story with Clara's life. But there's nothing quite like the fervent prayers of those praying for a child.

Thanks, dear ones. I'll let Clara know you're walking alongside her.

A Midnight Clear

Merry Christmas, dear ones!

I hope this day is full of great joy, sweet peace, and coveted rest.

Here are sweet words written by someone much more poetic than I:

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

My prayer for us today is that we could take a deep long breath of grace, that we'd rest beside the weary road and listen. The God who sent angels to sing of His Son's birth sings songs over you, did you know? Now, if that's not a reason for merriment this Christmas, I certainly can't think of one.

Much love to you and merry, merry Christmas!



Zephaniah 3:17

The LORD your God is with you...
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.”

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

I'm well aware I'm not Oprah, though I'd appreciate it if people started referring to me only by my first name. Madonna, Cher, Oprah, Kimberly. No, you know, that doesn't work, does it? I need a name that's a bit more unique. Like....Gaga only more wholesome.

Gigi?

GooGoo?

GeeGee?

GollyGolly?

Think about that, will you, and get back to me in 2011?

In the meantime, I, like Oprah, have some favorite things from 2010. Some of them I can't really pass along to you, like the new baskets I have to store all my husband's winter gear. (That is correct: basketS plural.) Or my new earrings that a fantastic girl named Jessica made for me after I stopped by her booth at a craft fair. I would like to share these with you but I cannot because there are only two and I need them to look cute.

But I would like to tell you about a few things I liked this year and that have given me great joy.

NUMERO UNO:
Sara Groves.



I love this woman. I've had the pleasure of meeting her a couple of times and let me assure you, she is all that and at least six bags of chips. If you have not already, please buy her Christmas CD and listen to it without ceasing for the next week. Her voice is beautiful and haunting and human and everything you'd want to hear on any given day.



Also, she sings a hilarious song called "Toy Packaging" that should give all parents everywhere great comfort in these trying days.

NUMERO DOS:
Books. I read them, every now and then I write them and I want to tell you all when I find one that needs to be read. For example, have you read The Help by Kathryn Stockett?



You probably should. I drank it up like a good cup of coffee and was sad when it ended. What about Peace Like A River by Leif Enger? Fabulous. Sarah's Key by de Rosnay and Havah by Tosca Lee were doozys in the best sense of the word. I also ate up Love Focused by the Hughes duo, though I'm warning you to get ready to hunker down. You will probably need a stiff drink by the end when you realize you have a SERIOUS control problem and you have been loving yourself more than all the other people you should love.

There are plenty of others that I loved this year but I will refrain from specific titles as some of them contain naughty words and I don't want to irritate people who don't read naughty words. I DO irritate AND I read naughty words so it's a wonder you're all still here.

NUMERO TRES:

Lindt Lindor Truffles. Marc bought these for me recently and I'm telling you, only one little square in and I was professing my undying love for him. I am suspicious he knew this would happen.



What about you? Favorite things? Hurry! We only have a few days left to influence buying patterns in our homes! What did you love in 2010?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Did you eat your weight in turkey? Are you still feeling grateful? Or just bloated?

I feel full, and not just because of the gorgonzola smashed potatoes. Or the cornbread stuffing. Or the pecan pie. Ahem. I'm full of gratitude to God for many reasons this year, one of which is that Operation Bonnet was just picked up by Wal-Mart! Some sweet person of influence found my book, read it, loved it and placed a huge order this week with my publisher.

God bless Sam Walton!



Only God could orchestrate such a coup. I am not John Grisham, though I've heard he's a very nice man. He might be used to such a big deal and a big order, but I, friends, am not. When my publisher called to tell me the news, I had to hang up. "I have to go cry," I said. He gave me permission and I fulfilled my promise and wept like the crazy-grateful, not-famous writer that I am.

When February comes and the book is released, you might find me hanging out at a Wal-Mart near you. Not for some fancy book tour--I might just stalk the produce section and watch the book section from afar. Don't be alarmed if I kiss you when you pick up my book. And no pressure to buy, even if I'm crying. Seriously. I'm just a bit emotional about it, that's all.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends! I have to go cry.

Playing Dress-Up

Happy Most Uncomfortable Holiday! I try every year to get excited about Halloween and I just can't muster up the enthusiasm. For one thing, what and who looks good in orange and black? Don't say that you do because I assure you, you don't. Your friends just don't feel like they can be honest with you like I can.

Then there's the candy. My children would prefer to hook themselves up to a pumpkin-shaped I.V. and just ABSORB candy all day long, so Halloween is a built-in battle of wills. My favorite approach is to let them wallow in it for the two days after tricks and treats and then peel them off the ceiling at the expiration of 48 hours. Also, I steal their candy and eat it when they're in bed. (I learned this technique from my mother, who sometimes still pilfers my candy out of the drawer where it's hidden. She has a bit of a sweet tooth.)

There is a bright spot, however, for the Halloween scrouge. The costumes can be lovely. I shake my head distastefully at anything involving ketchup-blood or webs or vampire teeth. Also, boys wearing white and black make-up or girls using trick-or-treat to be code for "skank-o-skank." You can call me a traditionalist. But some people really don their Clever Hats when it comes to costuming. Take this man, who was inspired by a Chia Pet:



Or this man, who was later arrested for trying to cook his child:



Now, here's an option for those of you think all those cute duckie and sweet pea costumes are so 2009:



My favorite costume, though, was worn by a friend of Marc's during grad school. The guy was a bit of a class clown, sported a healthy Midwestern belly, and sure did show up to the Halloween party wearing a lot of tin foil and a big sandwich board sign that said "Mammogram Machine: Place Breast Here." Not one female at the event took him up on it, but bless you, B.K., wherever you are.

Happy Halloween, friends. Try to be cheerful.

p.s. Am I allowed to be a Christian writer and use the word "breasts" in a blog post? Christians still have breasts, right?

Slow Start

I've had a rocky start to the school year. I realize I am not actually IN school, but two of my children are and I think that counts. Plus, I'm the one making sack lunches, so I deserve the love and pity.

Mostly pity. For example, the first day of school, Mitch looked like this:



This is also what he looked like the second day of school because he wore the exact same clothes. AND HIS MOTHER DIDN'T NOTICE until she picked him up at the end of preschool. He looked at me like I smoked dangerous chemicals when I expressed my concern about wearing a shirt that had yogurt artfully spilled around the collar.

"Mom," he said, "I look awesome."

And then there was the Calendar Confusion Incident a few weeks ago. It was a Monday and I kept Ana home because she had the day off from school. Probably teacher planning or something, I wasn't sure. Mid morning, still all in our pajamas and considering a trip to the science center or maybe a movie and I noticed a fleet-footed thought take a jog through Ye Olde Maternal Head. I wondered why I hadn't heard any other moms talking about their plans for the day off from school. Why? Hmm. Well, turns out there was a simple answer to that question. Other moms didn't have day-off plans because school was in session. People who read calendars with a savvy and literate eye know things like this but people who send their children to school in yogurt-crusty shirts do not.



So I'm warning you now: Do not trust me with important information or the hygienic care of children. You can trust me with pretend stories and fake people that don't exist. Fiction is safe! Anything else, though, and we're all taking our chances.