I had a conversation with my daughter the other evening as I was putting her to bed. Out of nowhere this seven year old piped up with “I don’t believe in magic.” That took me aback for an instant, but then I smiled at her and said “I do.” Gave her a kiss and wished her good night.

Thinking about that now, I’m saddened. I suspect she’s getting this attitude from the other little kids in school, who get it from parents, siblings or wherever. How can a little kid not believe in magic? I know she’s on the cusp of shaking off the whole Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and Tooth Fairy beliefs, but not to believe in magic? You have to believe in that touch of magic. It may not be solid or obvious. Magic is believing in Santa Claus even though you know he doesn’t exist. Magic is watching the look of wonder in a child’s face when they see a colorful butterfly sail past them.

I’m not talking about magic as in fairy godmothers, wizards and story books. I’m talking about the magic you find in every day living. The dark evening when everything is silent and big, fat snowflakes are falling from the heavens. Seeing the Aurora Borealis for the first time. A dolphin springing from the waves of the ocean. Being able to pick out the North Star, Venus or the Big Dipper out of a sky laden with stars. Yes, there is a scientific explanation for all of those, but does that matter to a child? No … its magic.

And its magic for me every time I see it through the eyes of a child.

Rough day. There should be a law against having to work the day job this close to the holidays. Yuk.

Naturally, I had a ton of things to take care of tonight. Holiday gift exchange for tomorrow … no presents wrapped. Had to bring some munchies … nothing bought. Promised the Little Darlin’ that we’d go see Santa Claus tonight … hit the mall at the worse possible time.

We sat in line for a good hour to see Santa. That part wasn’t so bad. It was the little kid behind us who puked up his dinner and nearly made me toss my cookies that was a problem. Fortunately, mom was on the ball and had wet-ones in hand. She’s been puked on before … you can tell.

Halfway through the waiting period, I fully expected the Little Darlin’ to tell me that she had to go potty. I had all sorts of diversions ready, but fortunately none of them were necessary.

We did finally get to see Santa. He was a terrific one. The Little Darlin’ had her list all set and behaved like an angel, chatting with Santa and being her normal charming self. Still, after watching Santa hoist child after child onto his lap, I felt sorry for the poor guy. Hope they paid him lots of money.

I was in a Waldenbooks the other day (love that place, by the way). Standing in line with a couple of (okay, more than a couple of) books in my arms and idly paying attention to the woman in front of me. She had her son with her … probably around 11 or 12 years old. Well, this kid managed to knock over a couple of things … book marks or something, but did he pick them up? No, mom did. For some reason this bothers me. Are we, as women, so programmed that we automatically pick up after our kids? I was so tempted to tell the kid to pick up his own mess, but I’m sure mom would have jumped all over my ass.

Not sure if the fact that the store incident bugged me because its a matter of personal responsibility. It was that kid’s responsibility to pick up after himself … not his mom’s. What do you think?

On a side note … I also picked up the latest Gwen Stefani cd. Fabulous!

I love the Christmas season. Everyone seems friendlier, the decorations are gorgeous … for the most part. Can’t get into the blow up things, though, but I guess its different strokes for different folks. I even like a white Christmas, even though I’m not a fan of the Wisconsin cold.

My big problem is with traffic. I can be driving along, singing Christmas carols at the top of my lungs, then suddenly some cuts me off, or runs a red light. So its basically “Walking in a Winter Wonderland. Hey! Nice going, you moron!”

There’s just something so wrong with humming along, or singing a cheery Christmas song and then having these moments of road rage. I’m not sure what the problem is. Are these people so important that they have to get to their destination with a total disregard for everyone else? Must be. The red light running seems to be getting more frequent, or the zooming past on the right, or … my personal favorite … the driver who has a cell phone glued to their ear and doesn’t pay sufficient attention to the traffic around them.

Everyone is in a hurry, folks. Take it easy and we’ll all get there.

At a doctor’s appointment this past Monday, during one of the routine questions regarding how I was feeling, I mentioned to the nurse that I was tired alot of the time. When asked why, I told Janine that I was practically working two jobs. One full time during the day and the other part of the night. I let her know that I had a book coming out in April.

She was thrilled and asked me what kind of book. When I told her it was a futuristic romance, she actually squealed. I can’t tell you the last time I heard a grown woman squeal. LOL. Janine told me that she and a couple of other nurses were avid romance readers and absolutely adored paranormals.

Well, I certainly know where I’m going to drop off bookmarks and other promotional items when I get that stuff put together. I guess when I think of target readers, I think of booksellers and libraries and such. Pretty dumb of me. Hospitals, offices, colleges … you name it, there is an audience everywhere you look.

It was thrilling to know that Janine is going to be waiting for the release of “Forget About Tomorrow”. Doing promotion over the internet is very effective … but personally, I don’t think anything beats word of mouth.