What a difference a coast makes…

 

HALLIE EPHRON: Last weekend I had the great pleasure of being guest of honor (along with William Kent Krueger) at the California Crime Writers Conference. Culver City where planes are landing at LAX just outside your window.

At Logan (we got off 30 minutes early, arrived an hour early: how bizarre is that?) I was the only one who cracked up at the announcement from TSA on the loudspeaker: "Please return to security if you left an I-Pad and  eyeglasses..." which of course I heard as I-glasses... A writer's joke.

As the plane landed, the sun was shining and I could see ocean one way and mountains the other. Mountains I never knew were so close by, growing up there because the air was so much more polluted. Back in the 60s your plane descended into an impenetrable brown haze.

 

The fun started when I got picked up at the airport by TammyKaehler (now blond!). Not in a race car, sadly. Driving utterly sanely if a bit, um, fast.

What a conference! Two hundred and fifty authors, editors, agents, publicists, rubbing shoulders and sharing tips. They pull it off magnificently every other year. All overseen by an incredible board headed by the indomitable and uber-competent Rochelle Staab. From one control freak to another, I tip my hat.

The conference opened Friday night with a twist: an event dubbed MISCAST, held in the only appropriate place, a dark wood-paneled bar that needed smoke to feel authentic. Authors switched places and read each other’s work. Hardboiled writers read softboiled excerpts and vice versa. Glen ErikHamilton, Harley Jane Kozak, Matt Coyle, Elaine Ash, Jeri Westerson, KateCarlisle, SW Lauden, and Daryl Wood Gerber. It was a hoot!

I'm not sure if these guys were photographed before or after: John Edward Mullen, Dave Putnam, Matt Coyle, Beth Yarnall. In the bar.

I knew we weren’t in Kansas any more when (Matt Coyle, maybe... someone correct me if I've misremembered) read an excerpt from Foxe Tail (by Jerri Westerson writing as Haley Walsh), a bawdy mystery starring a gorgeous young gay man (think Tab Hunter) on the make in old timey Hollywood. To say it was blue would be an understatement. Got me thinking: Do we even write sex in New England?

Saturday and Sunday were packed with outstanding writing, marketing, and forensics panels and there was a crime scene room with an FBI expert. I came away determined to create my own podcasts (thanks Laura Brennan – dialing into DestinationMystery to hear some), and a new appreciation of swag (Thanks, Ellen Byron, Cajun Country Mysteries).

A real pleasure of this conference was the many screenwriters who are now writing crime novels. They are SO SMART about plot! Ellen Byron, Craig Faustus Buck, Wendall Thomas, and more… I could listen to you guys talk the ins and outs of the 3-act structure all day long.

All of which is to say once again, I pinch myself. Crime fiction writers are the best, most generous, hilarious, and smart people you could ever hang out with. I am so lucky!

Morning after the conference I went out to breakfast… don’t you love this place, Dinah’s Diner? (Me cracking up because here in Boston, the way we say Diner is Dinah.) A relic of the 60s. I could have hung out here with my high school friends, drinking coffee and, yes, smoking cigarettes. And the hash browns with my eggs were the kind I grew up with, shredded and crisp. Yum.

So when you think Los Angeles, do 60's diners or crispy hash browns, mountains or beaches, noir or California cozies come to mind?

Tammy Kaehler--Kiss the Bricks

DEBORAH CROMBIE:  Okay, it's Tuesday, we have a long week ahead of us, and I think we need a little excitement. As in VROOM VROOM, get your blood pressure up and your heart racing excitement. All it takes for me is this first line from my buddy Tammy Kaehler! If you haven't read Tammy's books featuring Kate Reilly, race car driver, you are in for a big treat. Tammy has gotten close to her character in a way that most writers only dream about, and this year she has totally topped it. She's got a job at--Well, I'll let Tammy tell you.

TAMMY KAEHLER: “Green, green, green! We are green for the Indianapolis 500!”
My heart pounded at race speeds. A voice broke through the static in my headphones. Patsy, a friend and pit spotter shouted, “Tagliani’s got a problem, he’s in the pits.”
Crap, I think. That’s one of my drivers. I’m already screwing up my job!

I’ve had a lot of opportunities over the last dozen years that other people would sell organs to experience. Like sitting down with hall-of-fame racing drivers to learn how to drive certain tracks—and finding out who pees in the seat of the race car and who doesn’t (yeah, it’s a thing). Like getting a ride around a race circuit from Mario Andretti. Like swapping book recommendations with a woman who drives 230 mph.

Like sporting an all-access credential—the kind money can’t even buy—for the Indy 500 last year.

But my story gets better. The 2016 race wasn’t just any Indy 500, it was the 100th running of the iconic motor race, and the place was overflowing. With something approaching 350,000 people. (Seriously.) They said one of every 1,000 people in the United States last May 29 was at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. They said IMS represented the 30-somethingth largest city in the country that day. It was packed.

But wait, my story still gets better. I wasn’t just attending the race. I was in pit lane—working for ESPN. And I was terrified I would do something wrong.

My job was to be a backup pit spotter—a representative of the network broadcasting the race who monitors a certain set of pit spaces, teams, cars, and drivers. In my case, I had the last dozen cars in the 33-car field. The top twenty were covered by other pit spotters, plus on-air talent and cameras. My cars/drivers were those least likely to have hot stories, so I didn’t have talent or camera. Just me and my nerves.

I wandered up and down my portion of pit lane throughout the race, collecting information about pit stops, problems, changes made to cars, and so forth. Once, I legged it to a particular pit to get an answer Patsy and her on-air guy needed. Occasionally, I reported when a top-20 running car of mine was headed for a pit stop.

Mostly, I sweated and worried. And had an absolute ball.

BE IN THIS MOMENT! I kept reminding myself. ENJOY THIS, RIGHT NOW!

And I did. I’m aware just how rarefied the air is I get to breathe. I mean, who gets to work the pits for the Indy 500?!

What’s more astonishing—or worse, if you’re one of those people who’d climb over my twitching corpse to take my spot—is that growing up, I didn’t know a thing about the Indy 500. Or racing at all. I was working for a mortgage company that started sponsoring racing, and I went along to the races because they needed help. That was the start of my insider access…and the start of Kate Reilly.

I started in a smaller, less well-known series. With less-known teams and drivers. As I’ve written more books and done more research, I’ve met more and more people. One person led to another, who led to another, and suddenly, I know a woman who races in the Indy 500. In fact, Pippa Mann not only races in the Indy 500, but she’s also a reader! (She’s my unicorn, basically.) She enthusiastically became my primary source for KISS THE BRICKS, set at the Indy 500. 

Just as suddenly, when I needed access last year to research the new book, it turns out I knew the right people who were willing to recommend me for the job in the pits. And the best part of this story? They recommended me again for this year.

So come Sunday, May 28, when The Greatest Spectacle in Racing, the Indy 500, takes the green flag again, think of me. I’ll be the one stressing, sweating, and grinning ear-to-ear in the pits.

DEBS: I'd never have thought someone could turn this die-hard horse racing fan into a car racing fan, but Tammy did just that with her first Kate Reilly book.  She makes you feel what it's like to be in the seat of the little, fragile metal shell, careening around the track at nearly warp speed. And there's a cracking good mystery to make it even better.

Here's a little snippet from KISS THE BRICKS, the 5th Kate Reilly mystery:

After the first practice session for the legendary Indianapolis 500 motor race, Kate Reilly is stunned to discover she was the fastest driver—but she’s more surprised to learn she wasn’t the first woman to top the speed charts in the race’s 106-year history. That feat was accomplished in 1987 by PJ Rodriguez—who shocked everyone by committing suicide ten days later.

When the press, bloggers, and social media go crazy over the connection, Kate loses her identity—suddenly everyone’s comparing Kate and PJ, calling Kate PJ, and wondering if Kate will kill herself, too. Except that PJ’s family claim PJ was murdered, and they want Kate’s help finding her killer and restoring her reputation. Thirty years after the fact.

In the days leading up to the iconic race, Kate takes to the track for practice sessions, fulfills sponsor obligations, promotes the race for the IndyCar series, and plays peacemaker between the warring sides of her family. She also digs into PJ’s experience in the Indy 500 paddock and uncovers pervasive prejudice and chauvinism—then and now. With investigative help from “Special Team Kate,” she’s on the trail of potential suspects for PJ’s murder…and then one of them turns up dead.

Kate prepares to run the biggest race of her life at the same time as she narrows down the clues to two murders, all while fighting for her voice and identity in the storm of media attention. But will the past stay buried or will history repeat itself and leave Kate fighting for her own life?

Meg Gardiner says, "Smooth, quick, and punchy, KISS THE BRICKS pulls readers into the high-octane drama of the Indianapolis 500. The racing feels authentic and intense, but what propels this novel is the compelling mystery," and I agree.
 
Here's more about Tammy: When Tammy Kaehler discovered the racing world, she was hooked by the contrast between its top-dollar, high-drama competition, and friendly, family atmosphere. Mystery fans and racing insiders alike have praised her award-winning Kate Reilly Mystery Series (Dead Man’s Switch, Braking Points, Avoidable Contact, and Red Flags), and Tammy takes readers back behind the wheel in her fifth entry, Kiss The Bricks. She works as a freelance writer in Southern California, where she lives with her husband and many cars. Find out more: www.tammykaehler.com.

DEBS: I love the title of this book, and the cover is fabulous! Tammy, do you have input on the cover?

READERS, Tammy will be dropping in to answer questions about KISS THE BRICKS, and about racing. (I'm not sure I want to mention the whole pee-in-the-seat thing, but, really?)

So tell us if you are racing fans, REDS and readers. Have you been to the Indy? It sounds amazing, and I want to hear more!
 
(And I know what I'm going to be doing on May 28th. I'm going to be glued to the Indy 500, hoping to catch at glimpse of Tammy.)

Tammy Kaehler: What Dolly Parton Taught Me About Being A Feminist

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Happy Friday, everyone! Today I'm thrilled to introduce novelist Tammy Kaehler, the author of the Kate Reilly Racing Mystery Series. I was lucky enough to meet Tammy in person at the Literary Guild of Orange County at Long Beach's Festival of Women authors last year, and we've been buddies every since.

I love Tammy's series, because her protagonist, Kate Reilly, is such a strong and brave heroine — and also because I know absolutely nothing about the world of car racing. It's such a fun glimpse into this specialized world.

Welcome, Tammy!

Tammy Kaehler: Let me start by saying that Dolly Parton was a fixture in my childhood, in that sort of “odd celebrity who’s always there” kind of way—not to mention as the woman with the biggest chest and the most fringe and rhinestones. I was a child of the 80s, so I watched the movie 9 to 5 over and over, knew all the words to Islands in the Stream, and knew her song “I Will Always Love You” long before Whitney Houston recorded it. I just didn’t know how much common sense lurked behind all of that big hair.

From a combination of factors, not the least of which was being raised (mostly) by a single mother who attended UC Berkeley in the 1960s, I grew up believing women should reach for anything they want and not be satisfied with the constraints of traditional female occupations. I attended a liberal arts college, and that’s when I became more aware of language use and gender roles, and all the stuff that “political correctness” (which I think is unfairly maligned) teaches you to recognize.

That’s when I excised the word “girl” from my vocabulary for any female over the age of 16. I learned to say “first-year student” instead of “freshman.” And I developed my habit of always carrying a whistle and never walking alone at night. (Yes, the awakening was the good with the bad.) By then, to me, feminism meant no stereotyping, eschewing historical societal expectations, and doing everything men could. I’d never been a particularly girly girl, and at that point in my life, you wouldn’t have caught me dead in ruffles, bows, pink, or hearts. Somehow, those were marks against feminism or symbols of a need to be protected that would then diminish my strength or power.

Ironically, it was when I went to work for a women’s college that I became more flexible in my idea of what women could be. As I think back, that’s when I started to realize—as I looked around every day at hundreds of women leading or following, excelling or goofing off, and generally filling every role, traditional or otherwise—that just being a woman and doing what I wanted to do was a form of feminism. It’s a sentiment that took a while to gel, and one that I finally articulated in Red Flags when Kate, the racecar driver, is questioned by the media about not doing enough as a role model: “I make a case for women every day I’m behind the wheel,” she says.

A large part of my interest in the racing world stems from meeting women in it who aren’t the beauty-queen trophy girls. The women who don’t trade on their looks for exposure or success. And then someone like Danica Patrick comes along. Whether or not you think she belongs in NASCAR’s highest tier or in Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue, she’s in both (or has been). She’s talked about the technical craft of racing, she’s led and won races, and she’s used her sexuality to promote her brand. For a long time I was really conflicted about my opinions of her actions.

And then I started writing Red Flags, creating a character who’s your typical Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, but with a twist: there’s a smart, strategic brain behind the glitz, glam, and pocket dogs. I came to understand that the best thing we as women can do today is be who the hell we want and own it. And who’s the patron saint of that? Dolly Parton.

Because, let me tell you, the woman is no dummy. The first quote of hers I heard and loved was about being called a “dumb blonde.” Her answer: “I’m not offended at all by dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb, and I also know I’m not blonde.” Another that stuck with me—talk about owning it—is one I let my character quote: “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap.” You be you, Dolly.

So while there’s still a part of me that’s still conflicted, I’ve embraced hearts, polka dots, full skirts, and pink. Even pink on a racecar, if it’s driven by a woman and is supporting the fight against breast cancer. (That, by the way, is true of Kate Reilly in my books and Pippa Mann in real life.)

And I’m going to embrace being who I am, on purpose. With kudos to Dolly.

What I want to know is am I the only one with this kind of confusion about what feminism means? Worried, like me, that you’re not doing it right? And be honest, who else out there is a secret Dolly fan?

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Love, love, love Dolly. But it wasn't until the film The Bodyguard and the Whiney Houson version of "I Will Always Love You" that I realized she was also a songwriter and producer. Talk about your triple threat!

Confusion about being a feminist? Reds and lovely readers, what do you think? Do you ever feel like you're "not doing it right"? What about this "lean in" stuff? (And why so much judgment, both from others and our own inner critics?) Please tell us (and meet Tammy) in the comments. 

(And now I can't get "I Will Always Love You" out of my head. THANKS, TAMMY!)

Tammy Kaehler discovered the racing world via a stint in corporate marketing, and she was hooked by the contrast between its top-dollar, high-drama competition and friendly, family atmosphere. Mystery fans and racing insiders alike have praised her award-winning Kate Reilly Racing Mystery Series (Dead Man’s Switch, Braking Points, and Avoidable Contact), and Tammy takes readers back behind the wheel in her fourth entry, Red Flags. She works as a freelance writer in the Los Angeles area, where she lives with her husband and many cars. www.tammykaehler.com

Tammy Kaehler--What're Your Anthems?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I've just finished Tammy Kaehler's third Kate Reilly car racing mystery, AVOIDABLE CONTACT.  Publishers Weekly says,"Snappy dialogue, a smart and affable heroine, and pacing reminiscent of 24 combine to make this entry as exciting as a spin around the speedway."

I say Tammy Kaehler's Kate Reilly books are the car racing answer to Dick and Felix Francis's horse racing books, with the bonus of a great female character, race car driver Kate Reilly!  I love books that immerse you in the setting so deeply that it's a shock to put down the book, and when I read Tammy Kaehler I can hear the racetrack, smell the hot oil and rubber, and feel the vibration of Kate's Corvette. So I was fascinated by Tammy's description of one of the ways she brings the books to life. (I was also glad to  hear that someone else has to clean out their office before they start a new book...)

TAMMY KAEHLER: I was cleaning out my office the other day—yes, that necessary prelude to starting to write a new book—and I opened iTunes on my computer, setting it to shuffle everything in the folder of music I’d purchased through iTunes in

the last 15 years.

With the first song, boom! I was struck by a vivid memory of place and time. John Mayer, “Bigger Than My Body,” a song I used to listen to while driving home from my very first writing group a decade ago. I remember being in the car, at a particular spot on a Northern California freeway, thinking “I’m going to finish this book about a racecar driver and get published.” Listening to the song the other day, I felt that ten-year-old upswelling of determination again.

Then the second song played: “Blue Moon on Monday,” by Duran Duran, which, for a reason I can’t explain, saved my life a couple times in the last couple years. My day job has been busy and stressful, as was the third book I wrote during the same timeframe. This song on repeat smoothed out some rough edges once in a while.

Third song: “Raise Your Glass” by P!nk, which I listened to in 2010 and 2011 as I was preparing for

the release of my first book and trying to figure out how to write my second—more, trying to figure out how to “be an author.” Something about the lyrics—“So raise your glass if you are wrong/In all the right ways, all my underdogs/We will never be, never be anything but loud”—helped me believe I could find my voice and write another book.

Fourth song: Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas,” which I listened to on repeat for three hours last December when I finished the first draft of my third book. I didn’t listen to the whole song this August, but I was immediately transported back to the joy, pride, and sense of accomplishment I felt last December.

That’s when I realized: I was listening to the personal anthems of my thirties and forties.

Most of us probably know what researchers have spent numerous studies proving: music and rhyme help us remember things. Even patients with advanced Alzheimer’s dementia will sometimes sing along to a familiar song. Memory experts can remember huge lists of information by setting them to rhymes or music.

Some neuroscientists even think that our brains developed the ability to respond to music before the ability to respond to language; further, many of them believe we developed music and dance to aid in retrieving information. Bottom line: music stays with us. For proof, consider the dreaded “earworm,” that snippit of song that gets irritatingly stuck in your head.

All of which means it’s no wonder memory is highly coded to music. It’s no wonder we vividly remember sensation and emotion associated with a particular song. And I figure I can use this.

Why not use a particular song to change or bolster my emotional state? Sure, that was the next song in my playlist: Colbie Caillat’s “Try,” about not trying to be or look like something you’re not. Being happy with who you are. (I highly recommend the video, if you haven’t seen it; it has a wonderful message for all of us.)

I’m particularly susceptible to anthems these days, because I’m desperately externalizing my struggle to get started on my next book—starting a new book is hard enough to do at any time, but during a book release, it’s even harder! I find that every time I gather myself to launch into writing a book, I want inspirational quotes, I want jewelry with “you can do it”—or “bigger than my body”—messages. I want empowering anthems.

So what I’m listening to now is the Cobie Caillat song, Katy Perry’s “Roar” (“You hear my voice, you hear that sound/Like thunder gonna shake the ground” and “'Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar”), and “Let It Go” from “Frozen” (that one’s due to some more day job stress), as well as a bunch of current bubblegum pop that makes me cheerful enough to bounce in my chair. I swear, I’m going to start writing soon!

I know many authors talk about a soundtrack for their books, but I always think that’s music particularly associated with the content or the theme of the book. For example, another recent favorite of mine, “Girl in a Country Song,” (hilarious video, check it out!) won’t have anything to do with my next book, but its theme of women thumbing their noses at male stereotypes is making me laugh and reminding me of what Kate has to deal with in the racing world. Now that I think about it … maybe that is a soundtrack.

So here are my questions for Reds and readers. Do you have anthems? What do you use to pump yourself up—for writing, for cleaning the house, or for any tough task? And if you have a personal soundtrack, what songs are on it? What are your anthems?

(Credit for Tammy's great photo to S James Photography)

One Perfect Thing

DEBORAH CROMBIE: A couple of weeks ago Rhys prompted us to talk about the things in our lives that we couldn't bear to give up, even if we had too many and/or no longer needed or used them. (Think concert T-shirts... And keep in mind that Hank swears she really needs all those black suits...) I confessed that I have a FEW tea pots. Now I have to cringe and add that a rough count makes that, um, maybe twenty...

Why so many tea pots? I asked myself. Obviously, I drink tea. And I just like them. My grandmother liked them. I have one I inherited from her, and my very first tea pot is one she bought me. So reasons both sentimental and practical. But there is more. I realized I had spent decades searching for THE PERFECT TEAPOT. One that holds lots of tea. One that doesn't drip when poured. One with a handle generous enough that you don't burn your fingers against the hot pot. One with a lid that doesn't fall off when you pour!!

And then I realized that I had finally found it. THE PERFECT TEAPOT.  (Shamefacedly, I confess that I actually have two, but one has preference because I like the pattern better.) It is made by Emma Bridgewater, a pottery in the UK, and I hereby swear that I will never buy another teapot... unless, of course, it's another Emma Bridgewater in a pattern I can't resist.

So, REDS, what is ONE PERFECT THING you've found in your lives? Silly or practical, something you use everyday or only occasionally, but one thing that simply couldn't be bettered.

RHYS BOWEN: I've been looking around the house trying to see if anything ranked as "the perfect thing". My car is pretty good with all the safety bells and whistles, but I might rather have a Porsche or a Tessler or even a Jaguar. Then I looked out of the window and the sun was just setting and lights were twinkling on across the valley and a ribbon of fog was moving in and I thought: that's it. I live in the perfect place. I'm half an hour from the middle of San Francisco. I can get there on a ferry. But I'm on a hill in the middle of nature, with a lovely view. What more could I want? (of course the house itself is not perfect--needs new kitchen counters, new hall floor, new carpet and painting in the living room etc etc. But my situation and view--just perfect.

HALLIE EPHRON : Oh, Debs, I LOVE Emma Bridgewater pottery. Especially her bird mugs. I gave my husband the grebe and bought myself the hoopoe. But my PERFECT thing is a red fleece coat. It's still in perfect condition, even though I bought it when... thinking thinking... a few years before my first book was published, so in the late '90s, in a little boutique near where Kate's Mystery Books used to be on upper Mass Ave in Cambridge. It was on sale.

Here's what I love about it:
- it's red (yay, red!)
- it's warm
- it's short and swingy and makes me feel like Mary Tyler Moore in the opening of her old TV shows (spinning around, throwing her hat up in the air)
- it has a rolled collar that I can wrap around my face for extra warmth
- it has pockets lined in velvety fleece
- it can double as a bathrobe in a pinch
- rolled up, it's the perfect pillow to prop up against a plane window and snooze against
- rain shakes off it
- it's machine washable
- it looks sensational with my turquoise pashmina

I'm sitting at my computer right now, wrapped up in it. Wearing it is something to look forward to as summer changes into fall.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I'm thinking about Hallie's coat so deeply it's hard to focus. Okay. My
first thought: this whisk. Because it also flattens into *this*!  How cool and clever is that? You know how necessary a whisk is for cooking, and you also know how impossible they are to clean. This one flips open to whisk, and closes to stir and clean easily. Okay, its not comfortable for a pillow on the plane, and doesn't repel rain. But for what it does and the problems it solves, its amazing. But the winner:  I LOVE my new suitcase. I wore out the old one, after ten years, needed a newie. I cannot believe how much stuff I can get into this, it's astonishing. It's like it has some mad secret Hermione thing that allows you to add clothes (and shoes!) but not take up any space. It has little zips and pockets exactly where you need them, and it's very light, and slips right into the overhead compartment, and it's so rollable, yesterday when I got out of the cab at the Nashville airport, its rolled (upright!) down the curb cut all by itself.
"It's trying to escape!" I told the cab driver.
Also my long sleeved white gap t-shirt. And my black pashmina (shawl, pillow, coverup, bathrobe, blanket). And our garden.

LUCY BURDETTE: My two furry guys are the closest thing to perfect in my house (husband excepted of course.) Not that they are perfect, but perfectly entertaining. Yoda, for example, woke me up at 6 am, but by purring. Started out softly but then got louder and louder. You can't really be mad at a guy like that.

And Tonka, well dear Tonka wants to be with me every moment. He's thrilled when I come home and devastated when I go out. And they are endlessly entertaining as a pair too--every night at dinner time they play a game called "Knock the cat off the counter." Tonka rarely wins, but it never dims his enthusiasm.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I'm tempted to be obnoxious and say, "My children!" with sunbeams shooting out of my eyes and bluebirds flying about my head. Ha! No.  My one perfect thing is my black velvet sleep mask. Don't laugh. It's super comfortable, with a cushy rolled liner that keeps it from squishing my eyeballs and a soft wide elastic strap that never snags in my hair. It totally blocks light, even if Ross has his bedside lamp on reading while I'm trying to go to sleep. I need total darkness to sleep, so I haven't traveled without this sleep mask in eleven years. You know all those annoying lights that shine out of appliances and under the door in hotel rooms? Gone. Peaceful sleep assured. That's what really gives me sunbeams and bluebirds.

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Hmmm, this is tough, you guys! I have to say that the thing I couldn't live without is my passport. Even though I'm not always using it, the idea that this one document can more or less get me anywhere in the world is nothing short of miraculous. Continuing the travel theme, I recently splurged on a Really Good Suitcase. Light and so easy to wheel. Since I mostly travel alone, it's just fabulous. Oh! And this year I bought nude heels that are actually comfortable, even after a long night of standing. A seriously great pair of shoes, just when I was ready to give up on heels. Huzzah!

DEBS: Hallie, your coat is adorable, and you do look like MTM! Hank and Susan, you can tell we travel. I love my passport, and I have great luggage, too, Biaggi, which I bought when my fifteen-year-old suitcases finally bit the dust. But Hank, I want that whisk!!!  Where did you get it! And I want Julia's sleep mask, and Susan's comfortable heels. (What are they???) And I wouldn't mind Rhys's view, either.

As for the pets, Lucy, Tonka and Yoda are the most admirable pair. I'm afraid with three dogs and three cats I couldn't pick, however. It would be like choosing a favorite child (which is easy for me:-))

We REDs are a font of brilliant ideas!  How about you, readers? Tell us your ONE PERFECT THING!

P.S. Hallie, Emma Bridgewater is one sale this week, with ten pound shipping to the US. Just in case you're tempted...

P.S.S. Stay tuned as we have a great week this week! Guests Pam Jenoff, Tammy Kaehler, Marcia Talley, and Charles Todd, as well as some Labor Day celebrations!

P.S.S.S. Here's view 2 of Hank's magic whisk! I WANT this!