Dear Readers,

Happy 2012 to all of you! I’m looking forward to the year to come, and as always, I have lots of plans, hopes and dreams.

I want to thank so many of you who took the time to e-mail and/or post online, sending Christmas and New Year wishes to my family and me. It means so much to know that you think of me as a friend, even an “online” one. I appreciate every one of you, and I treasure the messages you send to me.

Our Christmas was terrific. Many of you know that our son and daughter-in-law and boys from New Zealand were able to fly out to join us for this holiday season, and as I write this, they are still here. It has been great to have both our wonderful sons with us over the holidays as well as our daughter-in-law and all three grandsons. Our two Kiwi grandsons have shot up and I suspect both will be tall, like their father. They love being here on Cinnamon Ridge, especially when their cousin Joshua is here, but this year they have been a little disappointed because of the lack of snow. The last time they came to visit it was all we could do to get out the front door to the driveway, and this time they are playing on the bare lawn. Ah, well, we had a bit of snow one day, which inspired sledding and a fabulous bonfire, plus they’ve taken hikes, gone riding on the four-wheelers into the wilderness around our ridge, and ice skating. We are still hoping for a good hard snowfall so that we can build another memorable snowman.

They are finding plenty of other diversions as well. Prior to their arrival my daughter-in-law Mary anxiously inquired if the cougar had made any recent appearances. I assured her that he had not been seen for quite some time. That may have reassured her, but it caught the older boy’s interest, and he has been eagerly scanning the surrounding trees and the roof for signs of a cougar. I think he wants to be able to travel back to New Zealand with a hair-raising tale about spotting a Real Live Wild Cougar. I hope that doesn’t happen and am letting my two Australian Shepherds out earlier, and for longer periods, while the smaller boys are visiting. Cougars endeavor to avoid dogs—unless they are starving and want one for lunch. Sadly, little children are also on the menu. My dogs go for runs unmolested, and I know they are marking everywhere to warn the cougar away.

We also had the slightly unpleasant arrival of a skunk, which decided to take up residence under our house next to our furnace intake/output vent over Christmas. This warm spot is directly under our wine room. Perhaps he found a place to sneak in ages ago, but he let off no warning spurts until the house was filled with kids, one a two-year-old named Thomas who fell in love with an old, all-metal Tonka dump truck. On my slate floors, it makes a horrific rumbling, and Mr. Skunk must have felt threatened. Naturally this occurred again when my adoptive sister, her daughters, grandson, and new son-in-law came for a post-Christmas dinner. Her son-in-law is Italian—actually from Italy—so he made real Italian risotto for our meal, which went beautifully with our elder son Andy’s Kiwi roasted lamb. (I refuse to eat lamb for moral reasons, but I made an exception for this dinner and even I have to say it was delicious. I thought of it as a multi-cultural meal because my son John also added Stateside dishes to the array.) Anyway, as Carlo explained that all servings of real Italian risotto must be slapped on the rump before being presented to diners and loudly popped the bottom of every plate, I was worried that Mr. Skunk would turn loose and ruin the party! Thank goodness our skunk has decided that all the uproar will bring him no harm. We haven’t smelled his warnings for days, so hopefully we can all continue to live in harmony.

My youngest grandson, Jonas, was far more worried about Mr. Skunk than I was. Unbeknownst to me, he thought the skunk was some kind of monster that was hanging out in the wine room. New Zealand originally had no mammals, and poor little Jonas had no idea what a skunk is. Nana took him on a research journey on one of the i-pads to see pictures of skunks, which I assured him resembled kitty cats. He adores my cats, so I mistakenly believed the photos reassured him until last night when he ran shrieking from the wine room to tell me that there is hair on a box in there. Understanding a four-year-old with a distinct Kiwi accent is difficult for me, but I finally figured out what he was saying. I’m sure the monster hair was from my dogs, but Jonas was frightened, and his older brother, Liam, thought it great fun to elaborate on the possibility of a long-toothed predator in a dark corner.

Such a strange place, America! Fortunately, as a family we watched the Courage of Lassie shortly thereafter, and the old film features a skunk. Jonas was able to see how small skunks actually are—and how harmless. Of course there was that one bit when the skunk sprayed Lassie, named Bill in the film. Lassie cried and ran. Jonas grew wide-eyed and alarmed. So in little boy language, I explained that the only bad thing skunks do is let big, stinky farts that make your eyes sting. I made sure I said “farts” with a Kiwi accent, equating to “fawts” so he would understand me. His mother laughed until she cried. But Jonas felt much better. He presently loves storybooks about stinky farts. So now he is no longer terrified of the wine room. He may venture in there, pinching his nose, in hope of seeing one, but he isn’t afraid now.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget the bath in my huge Jacuzzi tub, which features lights and jets. Joshua, my eldest grandson, helped me with the littler boys by climbing into the tub wearing his swimming trunks. Hello, he’ll be fourteen in August, so he wasn’t about to be naked in front of Nana! Well, Liam, seven now, soon to be eight in August, yearns to be as old as Joshua, so he insisted on wearing his underpants. Jonas was our only naked bather. Joshua had to show Liam how to wash down low without exposing his private places. That was so sweet! My babies are growing up! Jonas hates getting his hair washed. I was warned by his parents that it would be a screaming festival if I tried. Joshua managed the entire hair-washing endeavor without getting a bit of water in Jonas’s eyes. When Jonas emerged freshly scrubbed, his dad looked at me as if I were a miracle worker. Not me, but Joshua!

Since I’m hard at work on Quincy Harrigan’s story and also trying to enjoy every possible second with my Kiwis, I didn’t get as much time in the kitchen as I usually do, but I still managed to make some of our favorite Christmas treats. I love having the smell of goodies sharing house space with the intoxicating scent of fresh Christmas greens, candles, and the occasional whiff of sharp, cold outdoor air when someone comes or goes. We haven’t seen many deer, but a few still slip through the trees to visit the feeder. We may continue to experience this unusually mild weather, because all of the deer usually head for lower ground if it’s going to be really bad, and this year we still have quite a herd.

My husband’s birthday comes shortly before Christmas, and he had expressed a desire for a stream-lined sterling silver money clip. He didn’t give me any specifics, but after our long marriage, I thought I could find something he’d fall in love with. I set forth on a quest to find a money clip and ended up in the jewelry section of a large department store, where my adoptive sister’s daughter works. I thought I would be able to buy the clip from her. She wasn’t scheduled to work on that particular day, which may have been the best thing that happened to her during this entire holiday season.

The department was busy, which isn’t unusual for the weeks prior to Christmas, so while I was waiting for my turn, I looked at the merchandise in the glass cases. I didn’t see any money clips, though I spotted a number of items that, at another time, might have tempted me to ask for a closer look. When one of the saleswomen completed a transaction and came over to assist me, I asked her if the store carried any sterling silver money clips.

Smiling, she assured me that they did and led me to one of those large, hexagonal rotating countertop display cases that you see in virtually every jewelry department. Sure enough, there were several money clips inside. I saw one in particular that I thought my husband might like, and she opened that one door so I could examine it more closely. Well, once I had it in my hand, I saw that it was twice the cost of another that I’d seen which was almost exactly like it. So I rotated the case slightly to look at the next display. When I turned the case, the opened display door clipped a large soft drink that one of the salespeople had positioned behind it, and the entire drink flipped into the air and splattered all over the carpeting.

I broke into a flood of apologies while the saleswoman snatched a rag from beneath the counter and began frantically scrubbing at the carpet. She assured me from her kneeling position that it was not my fault and added that they were not supposed to have any type of drinks on the showroom floor. Since they were all working 12-hour shifts, evidently someone had been a little careless.

I felt badly, but after more apologies and after she’d stood up and disposed of the soaked rag, we got back to the business of the money clips. I asked if there were any sterling silver ones, and at the same time I rotated the case again. This time the already opened door knocked over another, larger soft drink that had been concealed from view behind it. Liquid from the open cup spurted in all directions, including on the front of the unfortunate saleswoman’s blazer. I was appalled, and judging from the expression on her face, so was she.

I burst into repeated, fervent apologies. The glaze-eyed saleswoman rummaged under the counter, found several more rags, and began desperately trying to soak up the liquid from the carpet. I could see that this was not an endeavor destined to be successful and could only be thankful that her blazer was dark and didn’t show the stains too much. She was also very sweet, which made me feel better.

Part of me screamed silently that I had ruined my sister’s daughter Emily’s place of employment, and that on no account should I mention that I knew her! I sent up a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks that Emily was not working that day, and therefore she would not have to admit acquaintance with the crazy lady who knocked over two drinks and murdered the department carpeting. I wanted to disappear into a crack and believed it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Yeah, right.

While the saleswoman spent about five minutes, literally, spreading the stain even further than I had managed to do, I edged sideways and peered at some of the other money clips. As I turned the case—well, what were the chances?—the opened door clipped a third drink, this time a Super Big Gulp, and sent it sailing as if it had been launched by a catapult. I felt like a one-woman wrecking ball at this point. The poor saleswoman was just regaining her feet when the third cup hit the floor at her feet, exploding like a giant water balloon behind her upturned derriere. Pop went everywhere—on her, on the rug, on the walls, and on the door.

I felt like a worm. I had not only ruined the carpet, possibly beyond repair, but I am fairly certain I also destroyed the woman’s immaculate outfit, and she probably had several hours still to work before she could go home to change out of her wet, sticky clothing. I wondered if she, or all of them, would get into trouble because of the unmistakable drink stains that had saturated about a four-foot square area of the carpet. The least I could do was make sure that she got a good sale out of this fiasco.

After apologizing again and again, I paid for the first, rather pricey money clip. At that point, I was so rattled, all I could think to say was, “May I have that gift wrapped, please?” My eldest grandson returned to the jewelry department, saw the damage, and with eyes as round as quarters, asked, “You didn’t do that, did you, Nana?” Who, me? I’m a nice lady. I don’t destroy fancy jewelry stores. Clearly, this wasn’t a safe day for me to be turned loose from my cage. My only defense is that I was recovering from three back-to-back surgeries at the time, so perhaps I wasn’t as quick on my feet as usual. Any normal person would have looked behind the display case before turning it a second time. Right? Then again, I suppose the saleswoman could have prevented more damage from occurring by removing the other drinks after I nailed the first one.

Returning to the ending of my tale: Making a mental note to immediately telephone Emily once I got out of there and warn her never to admit that she knew me, I apologized weakly for the final time and made the fastest exit I’ve ever executed. In tones that suggested both Good Training and Autopilot, the saleswoman graciously bade me farewell. I’m certain she was extremely glad to see me go. I have since heard from Emily that I am now famous in that jewelry department—and not because I write bestsellers. I guess, after listening to the story several times while her fellow employees laughed so hard they cried—Emily finally confessed that I am her aunt. None of the salespeople bear me any ill will, the carpet has been replaced, and all is well. That said, imagine the looks on their faces if they ever see me again! I would not be surprised if everyone in the jewelry store donned raincoats and opened umbrellas.

Now my husband has a money clip he adores. He fondly calls it “the three-drink money clip.” One of my New Year’s Resolutions is never, ever, to rotate a jewelry case again without carefully checking around and behind it. Another, carried over from last year, is to try to write faster. Have you made any New Year’s Resolutions you’d like to share?

I hope you have read the Front Page letter to find out who won the December contest and consider entering the January one, as well as hear the latest on LUCKY PENNY. Don’t forget to post some recipes, and please keep the posts and e-mails coming. I treasure all of them.

Best always,

Catherine Anderson