And the winner is....

....BeachB!

BeachB is the proud owner of a Nook! I used a random number generator (random.org) and have a marital witness to vouch for my process. (This is the man who, as a boy of six, made his mother stop the car so he could confront a nursing home about their frayed American flag. No cheating in this house, not with flag etiquette and not with random number generating.)



Thank you, all who entered and took the time to say a few words about Operation Bonnet. Your recommendations make a HUGE difference in book sales, so thank you! Make sure to e-mail me your mailing address at KimberlyStuartGiveaway@gmail.com and I'll send you a little token of my gratitude.

Happy Nook exploring, BeachB!*

*(I was going to write "Happy Nooking," but my mom said I couldn't because that sounds too much like "nookie," which apparently was a naughty word in the sixties. Really?! Could she be confusing it with the name of a milkshake? Or a poodle?)

Amazon Amazing

Well, we didn't reach two hundred (ahem), but we did get a healthy number of reviews on Amazon. And Operation Bonnet is selling well! Woo hoo and thanks be to God (not in that order)!

I've decided to forgo the garden gnome, though this one is fetching:



Look at that bunny go!

So no racing bunny and competitive gnome, but I AM drawing for a Nook. You know, a Nook?



(Cute pink carrying case and daffodil not included.)

I realize this is a change from the original plan and perhaps some you are mourning the loss of the gnome. So I'll give you an extra day or so to adjust. How about I draw for the Nook at high noon Sunday? So if you haven't yet reviewed Op Bonnet here, you get a bit of extra time. And if you have reviewed but in hopes of garden decor, you have time to recalibrate your dreams.

Thanks for the love, folks! I'll post Sunday. :)

p.s. Don't forget to e-mail a link to your review to kimberlystuartgiveaway@gmail.com, so we can send you a very little something to thank you for your effort.

I met this lovely lady this week.



Photo courtesy of DebbieMacomber.com.

Debbie Macomber came to Des Moines and I had a chance to chat with her. First, you should know that she has published ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY BOOKS. I feel this merits writing out the words for such a huge number. And she's just a great woman. Kind, humble, funny and a girl who loves to tell and hear a great story. She's married to her high school sweetheart, she loves her family, and she loves to eat and cook.

She also mentioned she writes in a turret.



Photo courtesy of oldhouseweb.com

I have asked Marc to build me a turret, but he politely declined. Perhaps I should sic Debbie on him.

ONE HUNDRED FIFTY BOOKS. ONE HUNDRED FORTY MILLION COPIES IN PRINT.

Listen, as long as we're talking numbers, PEOPLE. Where are my Amazon peeps? Remember my promise to give away a Kindle or Nook if I have 200 reviews on Amazon by June 1, 2011? We're at 36. THIRTY-SIX. Come on, friends. Help a girl out! If I see a grand surge, I'll happily extend the deadline, but you must meet me half way!

Everyone who sends me a link to their review (e-mail kimberlystuartgiveaway@gmail.com) gets a free little something in the mail from me. So please write a few honest words about Operation Bonnet! I don't like to beg. It's unbecoming, and plus, it didn't work with the turret idea.

If we don't get to 200, I'll still draw for something. I think you thought I was kidding about a garden gnome, but maybe you shouldn't test me.



I can't seem to get that photo any smaller, but that might be serendipitous. Stare at those eyeballs and that bushy eyebrow touched with red paint, and pledge "I will write a review. I will write a review." Or take your chances and end up with Creepy Dwarf. Game on!

Kindle Lovin'

Spring is in the air, thanks be to God! Every year, I worry I might not make it. At least without crying on the kitchen floor and asking my children to fend for themselves because I have to get outside, even if there is a blizzard warning.

But then spring arrives, I see daffodils peeking out of our garden, and I realize the worst has passed. And I didn't even have to resort to burning all our furniture to survive!



(I searched for an image of a bonfire and got this. I feel the heat, don't you?)

So in celebration of spring and because I like giving stuff away to make you buy my book (subtle), I hereby inaugurate the Operation Bonnet Kindle Giveaway. Here's the scoop:

1. Review Operation Bonnet on Amazon.com.
2. Send an e-mail to KimberlyStuartGiveaway@gmail.com with a link to your review.
3. Be automatically entered to win a Kindle!

It's that easy! The only catch is that I'm gunning for 200 reviews by June 1. If we're close, I'll still draw for the Kindle. If not, I'll draw for something less exciting, like a gardening trowel. Or a decorative troll.

Include your mailing address in the e-mail and we'll send you a small token of Operation Bonnet love, just for entering.

I see no losers here. And I also see my tulips coming up! Woop woop! We made it, friends!



p.s. How to post a comment on Amazon (you must have purchased something from them in the past):

~Go here to the Operation Bonnet Amazon page.
~Scroll down to the section called "Customer Reviews." Click on the box to the right that says "Create your own review."
~Sign in with your e-mail address and the password you used when buying from Amazon before.
~Review away! And thank you!

Quite Right

Is it weird that I've been thinking a lot about British people?

It must be the accent. I mean, seriously. I dare any woman within earshot to deny the power of a British accent. I'm not one to swoon (though I saw Michael Buble in concert a few years back and I came VERY CLOSE to swooning), but what is up with the accent effect?

Take Colin Firth, for example. You know him, right? The original Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice (pause for a moment of respect, please), the affable and sweetly awkward guy in Love Actually, the stuttering king in The King's Speech...I have a friend, Murl, who absolutely goes weak in the knees if I say the words "Colin. Firth." Down she goes, all fluttery and breathless.



Here's a man who is not particularly gorgeous. In fact, if you saw him on the street (and he wasn't wearing an ascot), you might think "Accountant." Or "Botanist." Or "Was that man wearing Rockports?" Certainly not "Oscar-winning actor who makes women faint when he speaks."

But I do get all mushy and nostalgic and sigh-y when I watch Colin and any number of his cohorts. Masterpiece Classic on PBS kills me. I mean it. I just finished watching the whole of Downton Abbey and now I'll probably have to move to England. (Do they have possums there?) It doesn't seem to bother me that I know English people in 2011 no longer hang out all day in Jane Austen-ish clothes and worry about marrying beneath their class if only for the sake of love.



I've been to England, in fact, and I remember a lot of disappointing food and a healthy amount of rainfall. But I still will need to relocate because even fish and chips taste good if Colin Firth is sharing them with you.

Marc is presently rolling his Norwegian eyes. He's awfully lovely too, I must point out. And if he started speaking in a British accent, I'd be more worried than smitten. (Anyone remember when Madonna tried that for awhile? EXACTLY.) Of course, if I started retiring to the parlor and curtseying, he might be a bit concerned as well.

All right, so what's your guilty pleasure? If not people in enormous, drafty houses, wearing petticoats and fretting about balls, what, then? Amish romances? Happy Days reruns? Funyuns? Hit me, people. I'm ready. I shan't judge.

No sign of Da Poss.

I'm very grateful to the many folks who e-mailed me with lots of helpful solutions, my favorite of which included an undercover offer to "take care of" Da Poss, but only if I kept this person's identity a secret. Betcha didn't know there's a Poss Mafia around here, did you?


Image courtesy of guardian.co.uk

I've been on the look-out, believe me. Nothing. Not a single sighting. I'm trying to temper my riotous hope that Da Poss has met his maker, or at least as moved to a different county. Marc is irritatingly calm about Da Poss and his whereabouts. Of course, this is what happened the last time Marc went to capture the wildlife in our backyard: Marc went after him with a broom (!) and Chuckles went right between the legs and evaded being captured. Just watch:



Sorry about the cackle. I couldn't contain myself.

So when Jamie from Texas posted that Marc should strap on his gun and take care of business, I'm sure you'll understand why both he and I CHORTLED at the thought. I chortled longer than he did.

Even with the possibility that Da Poss has moved on, the kids and I are still a little skittish. Today when I walked outside to the recycling bin, Mitch called after me, "Mom, watch out for Da Poss!" That's my boy. A healthy fear of rodents and vermin.

Thanks for all your support, friends. There's nothing like facing threats to one's wellbeing with a solid group of supporters standing by, ready to shoot. I mean, help.

Thanks, too, for heading to stores and online to buy Operation Bonnet. I've received lots of fantastic photos from folks all over the country, showing the book on shelves in Barnes and Noble, indies, Wal-Mart and Sam's Club. The first two months of a book's life are critical, and the healthier the sales initially, the better. So thank you, thank you, dear readers, for buying and blabbing about it to anyone who will listen.

To that end, I have to apologize if you've encountered either of my parents in the last few weeks. They are dogged in their publicity for this book. It's fantastic and also a bit scary. Today my mom told me she bought all the copies at Wal-Mart. Um, thanks, Mom, but we want people outside the blood relation to find the book, too, okay? She seemed unimpressed with my logic. My dad was in the background, fully irritated that he went to buy more copies of Operation Bonnet and Barnes & Noble didn't have the TEN he needed.

I love them. It is such a sweet gift to have parents who believe their daughter is so much more amazing than she is.

Of course, I haven't told them I'm going to start packing heat for backyard defense. I hope they'll understand.

Mutual of Omaha

Remember Chuckles?

Well, he has a cousin.



Don't be impressed with the cute, imploring look. Here's a side view that betrays his RAT origins:



Seriously, people. I am NOT running a wildlife refuge here. A possum! (I believe the correct term is "opossum," but does anyone actually say that? Maybe British people?) It comes and goes at will, during the day, from its cozy home under our deck. First, aren't they supposed to be nocturnal? And second, does anyone have a trap? Or a gun? (Sorry, Aunt Rachel, our family's Defender of Animals.)

Thea watched me prance around, moaning and saying things like, "Eeeewww! Gross!" She now calls our vermin "Da Poss," as in, "Mom, Da Poss is cweepy."

I couldn't agree more.

The Animal Control people (an interesting lot) assured me I would rather have a possum than a raccoon or a woodchuck. Um, is this a multiple choice test? If so, I choose BUNNY. Or KITTY. Or LADYBUG. They also said I could sprinkle fox urine around the perimeter of the deck. Mmmm. That will smell awesome just as spring breaks! Tulips and fox urine! My favorite springtime aromas!

What do I do, dear readers? Do I wait and hope Da Poss heads to greener decks when the weather warms? Do I trap it (eeewwww)? Do we scare it off with loud singing and harmonica playing?

The Animal Control man said these creatures will play dead ("play possum," he said with a weighted pause) for hours. HOURS. But just to remind you, Da Poss is very much alive. Here's an action shot to prove it.