The Regulars

We know them simply as “the family.” They always come through drive-thru, and when they show up, the barista there yells, “The family is here!” Whoever is available jumps to the cold bar to make their drinks: a venti half-sweet shaken black tea and a venti shaken black tea with two splenda. We don’t bother marking cups for them anymore; we all know what the family orders. Often, when they get to the window, we’ll call out “Hi, Family!” and they’re returning by shouting hello to the baristas they know by name.

There’s an older couple who comes in once or twice a week. She gets a tall latte and he a grande latte; they used to get them in to-stay cups but now get to-go cups, which seem to stay warm longer. She always orders; he hardly says anything. They sit in our big, comfy chairs and drink their lattes and read their books. I smile as I watch them, thinking about what it’d be like to be retired and wander into Starbucks once a week to have a coffee and read a book together.

Another set of regulars who come in is a father-son pair. Sometimes they come in by themselves, but often they come together, and have coffee together—or rather, a tall coffee and an oat fudge bar for the dad and a tall vanilla rooibois tea for the son—while chatting or reading the papers. Someone said the dad has Alzheimer’s; once, he forgot he had paid me a minute earlier, but most of the time, he’s bright and cheery. We make small-talk with them and apologize if the oat fudge bars are gone before he gets there.

I like our regulars; they make my day. Some come in quickly, others stay for a bit. There’s the lady who likes her triple venti cinnamon dolce latte just right with extra whip and sprinkles, the pharmacist who gets his venti Americano, the lady who orders a plain matcha tea (and makes us all shudder). It’s a familiar face, a familiar drink, in the middle of the day, even if I know nothing more about them than their taste in coffee. Then again, that says a lot about the person. :)

Waitin' on a Woman

As it became increasingly obvious during my university years that my parents’ marriage was falling apart, I found myself watching other couples around me, especially those that had been happily married for a long time. I soon noticed that those who were still happy together seemed to have learned to accept and even love each others’ foibles. Rather than getting annoyed or upset at little things their spouse did, they knew to expect them or to laugh them off.

I remember hearing one man saying there was some good diving in the cold lakes and oceans of North America, but because his wife didn’t like cold water, they always dove tropical. He wasn’t angry or annoyed at her because she preferred warm water; he said that with a smile and a loving look in his eyes.

Recently, as I drive home from work listening to the radio, a new Brad Paisley song has caught my attention. I’m not a huge Brad Paisley fan (several his songs I really don’t like), but this one I do like. In it, Brad (or the songwriter) captures that sense of loving your spouse despite their annoying habits.

Sittin' on a bench at West Town Mall
He sat down in his overalls and asked me
''You waitin' on a woman?''
I nodded yeah and said, ''How 'bout you?''
He said, ''Son since nineteen fifty-two I've been
Waitin' on a woman.''

When I picked her up for our first date
I told her I'd be there at eight
And she came down the stairs at eight-thirty
She said, ''I'm sorry that I took so long
Didn't like a thing that I tried on.''
But let me tell you son she sure looked pretty
Yeah, she'll take her time but I don't mind
Waitin' on a woman.

He said, ''The wedding took a year to plan
You talk about an anxious man, I was nervous
Waitin' on a woman.''
And then he nudged my arm like old men do
And said, ''I'll say this about the honeymoon, it was worth it
Waitin' on a woman.''

And I don't guess we've been anywhere
She hasn't made us late I swear
Sometimes she does it just 'cause she can do it
Boy it's just a fact of life
It'll be the same with your young wife
Might as well go on and get used to it
She'll take her time 'cause you don't mind
Waitin' on a woman.

I've read somewhere statistics show
The man's always the first to go
And that makes sense 'cause I know
she won't be ready
So when it finally comes my time
And I get to the other side
I'll find myself a bench, if they've got any
I hope she takes her time, 'cause I don't mind
Waitin' on a woman.

Honey, take your time, cause I don't mind
Waitin' on a woman...

Bringing Back the Truck

There’s a critical scene missing in one of the movie versions of Pride & Prejudice. In that scene, Elizabeth visits Darcy’s estate at Pemberley and, from what she sees there and from the housekeeper’s glowing admiration of her master, realizes that she’s misjudged him. Like Elizabeth falling for Darcy because of his house, my husband occasionally jokes that I fell for him because of his truck. But I was well on my way to a good crush on him before I found out he drove a nice truck—a bright orange Dodge Dakota Sport.

I don't remember the first time I saw his truck, but I remember the first time I rode in it. We were heading to a movie (there was supposed to be a group of us, but at the last minute the others back ed out on excuses of having to study for exams and write papers, so we went anyway) and he opened the door for me. I was impressed; only my dad had done that for me before. However, with a skirt and a full backpack of books, I managed to rather ungracefully clamber in.

At the time, I was driving any vehicle I could borrow from my parents or brothers or a little white truck we’d bought from my grandpa. It was a good little truck, but it wasn’t my dream vehicle. I wanted a vehicle with character, a vehicle that everyone would know was mine. Like my husband’s truck.

When we got married, we decided that we didn’t need two trucks and we parked his truck at his parents’ farm. We were living in the city and could ride our bikes to work in the summer and take transit in the winter. Discovering that we were pregnant meant that the truck stayed parked, because neither of our trucks would fit a car seat. We sent my truck to Car Heaven (it ran fine for us, but there were too many little things wrong with it to sell it) and got a car.

When we moved up north, we remained a one-vehicle family. Living in a small town made that easier, as we lived only a few blocks from downtown and could walk everywhere. We traded our car in for the Jeep, the dream vehicle I’d always wanted. And now, while we’re still living in a small town here, having both of us working has meant that we both need transportation. So, after much deliberation, we put the truck back on the road.

One night at work, one of the other baristas dropped in for a coffee and asked me, “Where’s your Jeep?” I smiled and said I had my truck—it was the orange one parked down at the end. She looked at me and said, “You don’t like bright vehicles at all, do you? I saw that on the way in and thought, wow, that’s orange.”

The other night, as I followed my husband home from his parents’ place, I had to smile. Following his truck brought back memories of the many times I did that while we were dating or engaged. That truck saw so many of our dates, road trips, surprises, and other memories. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t seen it since the wedding, but it reminds me of those days of falling in love and getting to know each other.

Book Review: White Picket Fences

Amanda Janvier has the perfect life. Nice house, nice job, good husband, two kids. Not like her brother Bart, who can’t keep a steady job or even a steady home for his daughter Tally. Now, Tally is coming to live with Amanda and her family because Bart is off in Europe on a wild-goose chase. But as Tally settles into their family, Amanda slowly discovers that her life isn’t as perfect as it seems.

Amanda’s son Chase connects with Tally on the night that she arrives, sensing a kindred spirit because they both share secrets. To Tally alone does Chase confide his struggles to remember a childhood trauma. Amanda senses her son’s struggles, but is unable to connect with either him or with her husband—and feels like her family is falling apart.

In White Picket Fences, Susan Meissner spins a rich, touching tale of two families’ lives. Through the story, she asks the question what makes a family. More surprises about the family are unearthed as Chase and Tally get to know two Holocaust survivors for a school project.

What I liked most about these books was the relationships, the dialogue between characters. Susan has a flair for capturing through the nuances of dialogue how two people relate—whether it is Chase and Tally struggling to get to know each other as cousins and friends or Neil and Amanda viewing their marriage and family from different perspectives. The discussions and interplay between characters really made them come alive in the novel.

In an interview at the end of the book, Susan says she was led to write the novel because she “saw that despite the outward appearance of a less-than-perfect home, a child could be loved there. Just because a parent is unconventional or unsuccessful career-wise or makes choices that buck society norms, it doesn’t mean that he or she is by default a ‘bad’ parent. Likewise, parents who we would traditionally call ‘good’ . . . can nevertheless make decisions regarding their children that have hugely negative effects, and yet their outward appearance would never lead anyone to suspect it.” This story delves into those outward appearances and the judgements we make on such families.

For those interested in discussing this book in a book club, Susan has a list of questions available on her website. You can also find an excerpt from the book and more information on the Random House website.

This book was provided for review by the WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

Donna Dawson on E-books and E-publishing

Donna Dawson is a fellow Inscriber, a writing instructor at a local college in Ontario, and the author of five books (with more on the way). Recently, I caught up with her to talk about her experiences in publishing her latest book, Fires of Fury, as an e-book.

KBW: You published your first books in paperback format. What made you decide to go with the e-book format for Fires of Fury?DD: My first four books were published through Word Alive Press (a self-publishing company). I chose self-publishing because I wanted total control over the sustainability of the book—I sing and speak so I didn't want a limited press run. I chose Awe-struck Books because I had been told that to self-publish was to take the easy way out.

Awe-struck is a standard publishing company and the books are released in e-book format first. The print option is supposed to be next. I can honestly say that self-publishing is NOT the easy way out. It is actually far more difficult than standard publishing because I have to make sure it is edited properly, etc. And yet, there is just as much marketing involved on my part to get the word out about the standard published book.

What would you say are the advantages of e-publishing?Advantages—I would say the biggest advantage is the ability for the reader to change the font size. For those who have limited vision, this is a big plus. They can download the book into .pdf files and then enlarge the text. There's also the cost bonus. No shipping, no duty on worldwide sales. It's a download off the Awe-struck website and then the reader can begin to read immediately.

And disadvantages?
The biggest disadvantage is that those who want a book, want a book, not a computer file. Too often I've heard reader say "but I want to hold it, smell the pages, feel the cover." I can't do that with an e-book. I'm finding ebook targets younger readers though.

Do you read and purchase e-books yourself?Not often. Between preparing for teaching my creative writing classes, writing and marketing, I spend way too much time in front of an electronic screen. I want the paper.

Are you working on more novels now? Perhaps any sequels?I am working on another suspense novel entitled Rescued. With this book I hope to end the war between pro-life and pro-choice, giving both sides reconciliation. I believe it can be done and I have a number of medical professionals who have backed this manuscript. I'm excited about it. I'm also working on the sequel to The Adam & Eve Project. And a romance based in the early 1900's.

What is your best piece of advice for writers considering e-publishing?
Really research the markets. There is so much fraud revolving around the publishing industry and especially the e-book industry. You want a company that will go to bat for you in protecting your rights. I was thrilled with Awe-struck because they are very pro-active in making sure my copyrights are protected.

Is there anything else you'd like to add?Writing is hard work. It isn't a really quick scribble and presto—the book is there. I would like would-be writers to know that they should take their time. Learn to research all aspects of the industry from writing to marketing to discerning between honest and dishonest publishers, editors and marketers. Beyond that—enjoy the beauty of words.

For excerpts from Donna's books, reviews, links to other Canadian authors and more information on Donna's books and other writing, drop by her website.

Second Trimester

When I was pregnant with Sunshine, I knew exactly how many weeks pregnant I was, how big she was, and how much she’d grown or changed that week. We told everyone we knew within the second month we were pregnant. For a lot of people, that was a big surprise, because we’d just gotten back from our honeymoon.

With this pregnancy, we’ve been telling people more slowly and it’s been less of a surprise. Since Sunshine was about a year old, we’ve been getting comments like, “So when are you having the next one?” or “She should have a younger sibling soon.” I figured out my exact due date last week and until then just knew I was about so many months pregnant.

When I did look up the pregnancy calculator, I was delighted to discover that I’m past the first trimester. With Sunshine, my morning sickness disappeared at exactly three months and I’ve been looking forward to that point with this pregnancy. Morning sickness has been much worse, causing me to turn first to ginger and then to Diclectin to make it through the day.

I’m still wearing my regular clothes, but that’s the same as my last pregnancy—I don’t think I started into maternity wear until about four or five months. (I’m in no hurry to pull that box out.) Right now, baby is about three inches long or the size of half a banana. And has fingerprints already. Isn’t that amazing? He or she would fit in the palm of my hand and yet already has his or her own unique set of fingerprints.

Sunshine knows how to say “baby” and gets very excited when we visit friends who have babies. I think she’ll have fun when the baby is here, though she’s too young yet to know it’s coming. Maybe as my tummy starts to grow she'll be able to understand there's a baby there.

(The ultrasound picture isn't our baby—it's a photo I found on the internet. My doctor wants me to go for an ultrasound because I'm a twin, but my husband and I are still questioning that.)

Book Review: West Nile Diary

West Nile Diary was perhaps an ironic reading choice for the week I was at home sick. I picked the book up at the Fall Conference because, having read many of Kathleen Gibson’s articles in Reader’s Digest and on her website, I was interested in her writing. Plus, I was curious about the topic of the book. Like H1N1, we’ve heard lots about West Nile Virus—and yet we don’t know much about it. I thought that a virus-ridden mosquito bite just caused a case of the flu. As I learned from Kathleen’s book, in some cases, that’s true. In other cases, like her husband’s, the virus is much more serious.

West Nile Diary is a compilation of Kathleen’s journals, columns, and email updates to her family and friends during her husband’s fight with West Nile Neurological Disease (WNND). Pastor Rick came down with the virus in the summer of 2007. Kathleen’s descriptions of how sick he was are scary—and yet it took hospitals and doctors several days, even weeks, to finally diagnose him with WNND. The virus caused brain damage and paralysis in Rick’s body.

Although the topic of the book is bleak, Kathleen’s writing is anything but. She brings to her book the humour and faith that has endeared her to readers of her column and articles. There are moments of laughter in their struggle against the “pirates” of the West Nile. There were also moments when I was nearly crying (and trying not to, because I finished reading the book during breaks at work) as Kathleen shared stories of their fellow patients at the rehab centre where Rick worked at regaining his strength and mobility. She talked of little miracles—money, people, encouragement that came just when it was needed.

At the end of the book, Kathleen provides an epilogue or appendix with a bit more information on WNND and a few definitions of the terms she uses in the book. It’s a small book, one that should be encouraging to anyone fighting “pirates,” be they viruses, disease, or madmen, as Kathleen says in her book. West Nile Diary is a beautiful story of faith, hope, and love in a dark time.

I bought this book myself because I knew that it would be good, and I highly recommend it to everyone else.