As challenging as 2008 was for so many people….this people included….I hold the utmost optimism for the upcoming new year. My hopefulness has nothing to do with a new president taking office, fuel prices coming down, bailout money free-flowing from the government, or even a new book contract. It has to do with hope, and I think that’s something that has to come from inside of a person. A willingness to stand back up no matter how hard you get knocked down or the size of the bruise left on your rear-end. Yes, we can, of course, gather hope from others, but how quickly the world would be drained of that valuable resource if we didn’t have some small token of it to offer others ourselves.

So, for my many friends reading this, most of whom had their butts kicked this year by the economy, by the universe, by life in general, I’d like to offer a small token of hope and support. I’m sending it by way of a song I heard recently. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to add it to this blog, but you can hear it straight away if you go to my myspace home page. www.myspace.com/deborahleblanc
So turn up your speakers, click on the link, (takes a second or two to start playing) and have a listen…..and may 2009 bring all of you great joy, peace, health, and success!
deb

P.S. For anyone who might have trouble understanding all the words due to the accent, I’ve added them for you below.

“Stand Back Up”

Go ahead and take your best shot,
Let ‘er rip, give it all you’ve got,
I’m laid out on the floor, but I’ve been here before,
I may stumble, yeah I might fall,
Only human aren’t we all?
I might lose my way, but hear me when I say,

I will stand back up,
You’ll know just the moment when I’ve had enough,
Sometimes I’m afraid, and I don’t feel that tough,
But I’ll stand back up,

I’ve been beaten up and bruised,
I’ve been kicked right off my shoes,
Been down on my knees more times than you’d believe,
When the darkness tries to get me,
There’s a light that just won’t let me,
It might take my pride, and my tears may fill my eyes,
But I’ll stand back up,

I’ve weathered all these storms,
But I just turn them into wind, so I can fly,
What don’t kill you makes you stronger,
When I take my last breath,
That’s when I’ll just give up,

So, go ahead and take your best shot,
Let ‘er rip, give it all you’ve got,
You might win this round but you can’t keep me down,

‘Cause I’ll stand back up,
And you’ll know just the moment when I’ve had enough,
Sometimes I’m afraid and I don’t feel that tough,
But I’ll stand back up,

You’ll know just the moment when I’ve had enough,
Sometimes I’m afraid and I don’t feel that tough,
But I’ll stand back up.

It’s December 30th, and while that may mean only one day until champagne gets uncorked or two days until you make that resolution list, the date means something entirely different and special to me. Nineteen years ago, on a snowy night in Boston in a candlelit church full of people I love and adore, I glided down the aisle and did the very thing my father always told me I’d better do: I married rich.

Only, in truth, I married Rich. That’s his name, so probably not exactly what my dad meant when he issued that edict. But I’m glad I listened to him. Because I married this particular kind of Rich, I’ve been laughing and feeling loved for almost two decades. When I look back on that dreamy night in 1989, it’s not the lovely ceremony I remember or the spectacular dinner at the Ritz Carlton for sixty of our favorite people. It’s not the dress, the gifts, the dances, the champagne, or even the wedding night. My most vivid memory took shape the next day, at a rickety table in the San Juan, Puerto Rico airport, on our layover from Boston to St. Barts. We shared a beer, face to face, punch drunk with exhaustion and giddy with love. I remember gazing into the deep brown eyes of a man I still think is one of the best looking I’ve ever seen, knowing that I would die, just keel right over dead if I had to go through the rest of my life this happy. No one could survive that strain on the heart, that much adrenaline pumping through the veins, that full-body shake-down sensation that is just-married love.

I have, I’m happy to report, survived it. And a lot of other things, too, including his early retirement. Since I have worked from home that same amount of time, Rich and I have basically been in the same house 24/7 for fifteen of our nineteen years, so technically, compared to a normal couple, we’ve been married about thirty-six years. I’ve enjoyed (almost) every one of those many days and years together, laughing first thing in the morning through the last thing at night…because I married Rich.

If you know me at all, you might hate me because know my husband is a talented cook, so I’ve been treated to gourmet meals for the entire nineteen years. He’s also an amazing father who has spent about a zillion hours coaching baseball, navigating the school car line, checking the math homework (don’t even think about bringing that algebra to me, baby), guiding our children through life with unparalleled wisdom and love and patience. They are turning into fantastic people…because I married Rich.

Life throws couples curves, as any married person knows. We’ve been through our share, including losing our home in a hurricane, building another that took sixteen endless, miserable months, job changes, life losses, stock market crashes, miscarriage, open-heart surgery, and, now, the granddaddy of all marital challenges, raising teenagers. Through every tough time, my husband has retained his humor, his affection, and his keen sense of balance. No matter what crisis we have to face, we always get through…because I married Rich.

About eight years ago, when I suggested I might walk away from a successful PR career so that I could spend my days with our kids and my nights on this wild and crazy dream of writing novels, my husband never flinched. He never waved the American Express bill at me with a reminder of my weakness for fine fashion. He never shook his head and explained that very few people ever get published. And he never suggested that romance novels weren’t the stuff of true literature. On the contrary, he assured me we’d be fine and he’d get creative with low cost cooking; he took the statistics of publishing, turned them on their head and said, “Honey, those 99,999 people submitting to the publishers aren’t you!” And as for romance? No, he’d never read one, but he’s read and loved every word I’ve written, even the early, clumsy efforts. And every single time, I kid you not, he puts down the last page of a manuscript, wipes a tear, and pronounces it The Best You’ve Ever Written. When I look at my wall of cover flats, all framed and bearing my name (not his, although when called Mr. St. Claire, he’ll treat you to that Cary Grant smile before he answers), I know I’ve had this rare and wonderful opportunity…because I married Rich.

In retrospect, I realize that my father wasn’t talking about money. He didn’t mean I should marry a rich man. He meant I should marry a man like Rich. A man who guards the cave, cracks me up, cheers me on, makes me think, loves the kids, offers brilliant advice (just ask him) and feeds me like I’m royalty. Is this man perfect? Not by a long shot. But, God knows, neither am I. He’s the glue that holds the pieces of my life together and without him, I would be bored, lost, hungry, and blue. Nineteen years later, I can honestly say that I’m still as happy as that girl in the San Juan airport, still looking into gorgeous brown eyes, still a little giddy about what lies ahead, and still in love…all because I married Rich.

(Honey, I know you’re reading this! Happy Anniversary! I love you!)

PS. My husband would be most unhappy if I dedicated this entire blog to him and didn’t use my slot today to remind readers I have a FREE Bullet Catcher novella that can be downloaded from my site for a limited time. Thanks to my fantastic publisher, Pocket Books, fans (and would-be fans) can catch “You Can Count On Me,” a RITA-nominated novella that first appeared in the anthology I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS two years ago. Since the book was holiday-themed, it wasn’t in bookstores for a long time and I’ve had lots of fans of the series mention that they missed it. So if you haven’t read this one, or you’d like to try a Bullet Catcher on for size (trust me, they fit real nice) go to www.roxannestclaire.com and hit “free download” and enjoy!

I don’t know about you all, but I’m still wiped out from the holidays and a lingering cold. So I thought I’d keep things simple on this last Monday of the year.

How about a Q & A?

• What was your most unexpected gift?
• Did you get your heart’s desire?
• Did you get any books? Care to share?
• Did you give any books this year?
• Favorite part of your holiday meal?
• Have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet?
• What are most looking forward to in 2009?
• Did you catch a cold, too?

* What was your most unexpected gift?
– Frosty the Snowman velour pjs from my hubby
* Did you get your heart’s desire this year?
– I really only wanted a toaster oven and hubby got me one.
* Did you get any books? Care to share?
– No books for me this year.
* Did you give any books this year?
– Yes, The Writing Diet, for my mom who’s always wanted to write a book AND lose weight.
* Favorite part of your holiday meal?
– sweet potato casserole
* Have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet?
– kinda, sorta. Still working on it.
* What are most looking forward to in 2009?
– having some time off.
* Did you catch a cold?
– Did I ever.

Happy New Year!

I don’t know about, y’all but I’m toast! I’m pigged out, burned out and shopped out. I am, officially ready for 2009!

I have a slew of resolutions: number one being: get healthy. I quit smoking, again. Not having a deadline hanging over my head has helped, a lot, and while I won’t blame the pressure I’ve been under as an excuse for lighting up again after years of not lighting up, I have to say, I really like to smoke! It’s damn hard to give up something you like! But it’s a slow kill and I don’t want to contribute to my early demise. So no mas cigarettes for Karin. And, I really need to shed this deadlines ass. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it gain, I feel like I’m being followed. Not good. So, with the beginning of getting back into shape, for me it’s walking five times a week and doing the medicine ball thingy a few days a week. I have another reason for the walks: my dog is getting fat. She’s getting old and doesn’t need the added weight on her hips. For her, I need to get out.

So that’s it for me, keep not smoking, walk five days a week, do the medicine ball thingy, oh, and cut out half the carbs I eat. I’m not going to diet. To me doing like the South Beach diet is telling myself I have write ten paged a day. Sometimes it ain’t gonna happen and damn if I’m going to beat myself up over it. So, no smoking, walk five times a week (at least 1 hour each walk), do the medicine ball thingy at least three times a week, cut carbs in half. That’s it. Oh, and read at least one book a week. And stop cussing. 

So, stop smoking, walk at least one hour, five times a week with my dog, and do the medicine ball thing, cut carbs in half, read at least one book a week, and stop cussing. No problem! Hah! I already know which one is so not going to happen! Can you guess which one?

And while you’re at it, tell me one or two or several of your 2009 resolutions!

Karin*

Considering I’m just now going to bed after wrapping presents while watching four episodes of Law & Order SVU (Season 10, through Apple TV), I don’t have a post for you today. It’s Christmas, a time for family, friends and reflection. My reflection? My kids are spoiled. But I certainly had fun doing it.

Merry Christmas.