I love. . .
my reading friends.
my writer friends.
my daughter and how she brings sparkle and laughter to my life.
my son and how ambitious, confident and reliable he is.
my husband and how loyal and smart he is.
the city I live in with its small town feel, friendly people, and quaint Old Town and British-style traffic circle, even though it’s actually a big city with all the conveniences.
that I have a short commute to work.
losing myself in music, both as a listener and as a player, and that jubilant moment when I hear, for the first time, a song I know I’ll love forever.
the music and foreign language students of all ages I work with, their enthusiasm, “aha” moments, hugs, and goofy things they say like, “You smell like a seashell.”
my piano students, AKA friends and fellow musicians, who tell me jokes and say Anna is way better than Elsa (I agree!), and get me to do my Stitch, dog, pigeon, and wicked witch imitations.
the excitement of knowing I will publish novels.
my two dogs and two cats, the friendliest, most intuitive furry friends ever, especially Teddie, our not-purebred-poodle-after-all with his really ugly butt.
my friends who make me feel like the nicest, funniest, smartest person in the world and who’ll talk to me about anything.
my parents and wish they lived closer.
my brothers and what good family men they are.
ice cream, being outside on sunny days, being indoors on cloudy days, libraries, meeting nice people, amazing talent, handsome cowboys (but, sorry, not cowboy music), epiphanies, dumb blonde jokes, walking in the woods, and beauty in all its forms.