Happy St Patrick's Day

It's still St Patrick's Day here for a few more hours -- and in points further west. So I wish you the joy of the day.

My youngest granddaughter who believes in the joy of holidays, thinks it's a celebration in honor of one of her uncles.

Her dad says that all day long she's been telling everyone she meets, "Happy Uncle Patrick's Day!"

Sounds like a good idea to me.

I wish you the same, whether your name is Patrick or not.

I hope to be more timely in my blogging now that my mother is situated in an assisted living apartment and not moving from place to place on a nearly weekly basis, and I am not coughing my head off.

Next week I'm off to New York for a wedding. I'd actually forgotten because I'd made the reservations ages ago. I usually spend time ahead looking for things that will be going on in the city before I go. This time I made reservations to see one play back when I bought my plane ticket. And then life got interesting and I never got a chance to see what else might be happening.

If you have suggestions for things happening in the city now, please comment and let me know. Even if you haven't been there, but have ideas of good stuff to do, I'd love to hear about it. I've been to NYC lots of times, but there's always more to see and do than I ever have time for.

Suggest! I'd appreciate it. And you might well win one of the books in this week's Great Book Give-Away.

The Great American Road Trip

Miss me?

I had no idea I would be gone so long, but time flies when you're driving . . . and driving . . . and driving.

We left a week ago Monday to take a a couple of days to reach Montana to visit grandkids (and of course their parents). I hadn't been there since Hank was born and he is now three months old -- and has definitely changed a lot. Big Sis hasn't changed as much, but she didn't tip her chair over and need stitches in her head this time and we count that as a plus.

I love Montana -- even when it's the Land Of Snow And More Snow. But this time it was idyllic -- sunny, just warm enough, late afternoon rain showers that disappeared over the mountains about an hour after they arrived. Everything was green and bright and cheerful. I didn't want to leave.

Except . . .

We were heading to Washington to visit the newest grandson -- whom we hadn't yet met. That was an incentive, believe me. But we didn't make a headlong dash. Instead we detoured by La Grande, Oregon where one of my mother's first cousins and her husband of 71 years are living.

I hadn't seen them since I was ten. It felt like yesterday -- but I didn't have quite so much gray in my hair at age 10. I was skinnier too.

In any case, we had a wonderful time. They toured us all over the area, showed us the best bits of their part of the world, then took us out to eat at a wonderful Mexican restaurant. It was a treat, and we were sorry to leave.

Finally now we've arrived in Washington. We've met Sol, who is remarkably like his father. Pictures didn't do the resemblance justice, but seeing the big feet and hands certainly did. Plus in animation, he is very much his Daddy's boy.

Lovely trip. Now we get to spend a week here. And I get to tuck in Demetrios's revisions while I'm visiting Sol and, I hope, touching base with several other long lost relatives. Great fun. One of the best vacations I've had in years.

I loved my work trip to Cannes last autumn, but I must say I have found this to be a lovely change of pace. There's nothing like going across 2300 miles of America to make you appreciate the beauty and diversity of this country -- and to enjoy so many interesting people.

What about you? Are you a fan of family vacations? Getting away from it all? Exotic places? Give me some suggestions? I love to travel.

Charley's Postcard

Charley the studly laptop has been recovering from his exertions getting Demetios and Anny finished and sent off to Richmond.

He was heartened in his efforts by the arrival of a postcard from one of his admirers, Scarlet S O'Dell (a very classy red English lass) who was holidaying in Lindos with her family.

Hearing from Scarlet (and heaven only knows what The Powers That Be at Mills & Boon thought of the postcard when it arrived) made Charley's -- and my -- day!

We send thanks to Scarlet (and Rach who had to write it for her because Scarlet couldn't get any connectivity out in the Grecian boondocks apparently) and are very happy to have it. It has pride of place on the bookshelf now. Charley is lobbying for a trophy case in which to put it. This is sort of like a notch on the computer bedpost, I guess.

Next thing you know he'll be getting postcards from lovely lissome lady laptops all over the world. There will be no end to his preening then.

I am in the process of cleaning my office (a long process) and watching physics lectures by Richard Wolfson (sort of physics for non-believers, er, scientists) which I'm thoroughly enjoying. This is in preparation for George's book. Fascinating stuff.

The Prof keeps looking at me strangely when I say that. I think he expected me to be bored out of my mind. Not at all. It all makes perfect sense and as long as I filter it through George's brain -- and his relationship with Sophy (whom you will meet in Christo's book) -- has a great deal of relevance to my life.

Well, I suppose the laws of physics have a great deal to do with everyone's life (gravity among other things), but I just don't spend a lot of time thinking about it specifically. Nice that George does, though.

Scarlet -- and Rach -- thank you for making Charley such a happy guy! Hope you had a good time on Lindos!

Research help!

Miss me?

I got caught up in taking care of Ellie and Henry last week. And when I wasn't doing that, I was hard at work on Demetrios and Anny.

The interminable (or so it seemed) chapter two finally ended (after 7500+ words) and I was able to move into -- and straight through -- chapter three in a couple of days.

I came home on Saturday and made the wonderful discovery that being stuck in the Minneapolis-St Paul airport for almost 5 hours had no downside at all. The food court has counters with electrical strips running along the back and there is an outlet for every seat.

So I bought my personal pizza and a nice cup of tea and set up the laptop (with its wonky battery I despaired of being able to do much work) and got almost 1500 words done before I had to catch my next flight.

Right now Mpls-St Paul (MSP) is at the top of my favorite airports list. If I could figure out who to write a fan letter to for all those electrical hookups, I'd do it in a minute. If you know, tell me.

And now I'm in chapter four. Which requires sailing knowledge. Not a ton, but more than I have. And my sailing friend -- at least the one I usually consult -- Peggy Nicholson who wrote Run So Far, one of my favorite Harlequin Presents of all time, is up to her eyeballs in work of her own right now.

I've put out feelers to my other sailing friend, Antoinette Stockenberg, and I hope she can answer.

But in case she can't, if any of you have sailing in the Mediterranean knowledge, can I please pick your brain?

I need to get Demetrios from Cannes to Santorini realistically. The internet is letting me down.

So if you can come to my rescue, I'd be much obliged. So would Demetrios, who has assured his brother Theo that it won't be a problem.

Well, he didn't think it would be. Neither did I.

I'm still hopeful that it won't be!

I'll bore you with Ellie and Henry pix another day. Right now I have to do the stuff I can do in chapter four without the particular details I'm going to need before the final draft.

First off, I need to find a sailboat.

On my way!

I'm leaving bright and early Saturday to go visit Ellie and Henry.

I have Demetrios and Anny packed and they had better cooperate while I'm out there or we are going to be in serious trouble when I get back. Think good thoughts for them.

I'm getting a handle on George. Not the 'inciting incident' -- but the actions he takes once it happens, whatever it turns out to be.

Have fun while I'm gone. I'll touch base when I can, which might be every day or so. And I will for sure be back with Ellie and Henry to choose the winner of the Mothers and Babies Contest which ends at midnight between Saturday and Sunday next week.

If you haven't entered, you should. There are some great books in the goody box by authors like Julia Quinn, Christie Craig, and Jodie Thomas, among others, as well as books from me and Kate Walker and Liz Fielding. There will be other goodies as well -- and a frog from Henry. Who could pass that up?

Check out the contest page on my website, answer the three questions there and send them to me from that page, putting Mothers and Babies Contest in the subject line. I'll be sure your entry gets in the folder.

Books On The Move

I had an email this morning from a friend who lives in Oman.

He said he'd just picked up a copy of my book Cowboy on the Run in the teachers' room at the university where he teaches.

I was pleased -- and a little surprised -- to learn that Rance and Ellie have made it halfway round the world to be discovered by a friend in Muscat.

But his email reminded me again of all the places our books go.

Of course I know that they are translated into lots of languages. I've seen mine in over 20 now, and it never ceases to give me a thrill to open the boxes or envelopes that bring me these foreign language editions.

But it's even more fun to hear of people I know who have found them "in the wild," so to speak.

I've found a few myself. I found a copy of the Spanish version of Dream Chasers at a flea market in Barcelona quite a few years ago. And a few weeks later when I was in Budapest, I found a French copy of one of my early Presents at the train station.

I ran across a much worn and, I hope, read copy of another at a church sale in near Gore on the South Island of New Zealand.

And a couple of years ago a friend brought me back a copy of a Japanese language version of an Anne McAllister book when she visited her family in her hometown near Tokyo.

Now that Harlequin Mills & Boon are officially coming out in India, I am hoping to see a copy of one of mine from there.

I have had lots of letters from Indian readers, so I know the books get there one way or another. "From Singapore," one reader told me a few years back. But now I'm hoping that they will be even more widely available.

Have you seen my books in bookshops or flea markets or church rummage sales where you live?

If you see an Anne McAllister book where you are, please drop me a note an tell me where.

I'd be thrilled to know where they are turning up -- even though I must admit to envying my books the fact that they are more widely traveled than I am!

Out of the Hammock

No sooner did I mention the word hammock, than my editor pricked up her ears and went, "Ah ha! She's loafing. Must do something about that."

And she did. She sent me revisions and took herself off to Cornwall so I could get on with them.

That's called adding insult to injury as far as I'm concerned. But they are sensible sane sorts of revisions that I could see will make the book better. So I'm thinking about how to accomplish them this week -- and hopefully doing just that.

While I'm gone with my nose in the computer again, I thought I would share with you some of the pix I took in Cannes. I promised Donna Alward, on the Pink Heart blog comments today, that I would put up some photos so she could travel vicariously a bit (since I know exactly how tied down she's feeling. Been there, done that.). I'll save some of Cornwall and elsewhere

So, enjoy. Think of me slaving away. And if I don't get back by Thanksgiving, have a blessed holiday with family and friends. And if you can't be with them, carry them in your heart. That
works, too.

Early Morning along La Croisette

The beach, before the people

Just to remind you of the film festival in Cannes

Restaurants are everywhere

The front garden of one of the small hotels where we had breakfast

Where Presents heroes hang out, of course

View toward La Croisette from the Festival Hall

Inside the Festival Hall -- lots of red carpet

The Palme d'Or, symbol of the Cannes Film Festival

Tools of the Trade

As I have become a peripatetic writer of late, I have learned the particular value of certain of my tools.

While I do love my nice big desk top computer with its screen that I can actually see and its keyboard the fits my fingers, I have learned to love more portable devices as well.

The last few times I've traveled abroad I haven't taken my laptop. It weighs, conservatively, 7.5 lbs dripping wet and by the time I add its adapter and power cord, it's closer to 9 lbs. It also rarely cooperates when I want to get on the internet. So mostly I use it to write on at home because, as it won't get online, it's a perfect refuge from the temptation to read email or surf the net.

Enter the mini-notebook -- in my case the wonderful Asus eee pc, otherwise known as "eepie."

There are quite a few sub-notebooks on the market and I'm sure many of them are fine. But I've had my eepie for over 6 months now and I love it. It's been a lot of places, though not clear around the world like Anne Gracie's has been, and it hasn't let me down yet. It starts up in less than a minute. It stores as much as I need. And it weighs just over 2 lbs.

With the eepie I can work on my book wherever I am. I can carry it to record offices or libraries and not feel burdened. And I can get online almost anywhere. Generally speaking I don't leave home without it these days.

I love my flash drives, too. My current best friend is called Big Red because, well, he is. And he carries 8GB of my stuff around on his back and never complains. In fact he loads so quickly I don't even keep my book on my hard drive now. I just leave it on Big Red and move him from the eepie to the laptop to the desktop as the occasion arises.

Digital cameras have made a huge impact on my researching. I can take photos not just of scenery and places and people, but pages in books, newspapers and original documents of all sorts. Mine takes video, too, as most seem to these days. I find that while stills are great for certain details, the ambience is often better captured in a video. You get not only sights but sounds -- and if I'm feeling articulate I can add a voice over as well. And as it's no bigger than the palm of my hand, I can tuck it in my bag and barely know it's there.

Right before I left for England I bought a tiny Flip camcorder that takes an hour's worth of video. Yes, I know I said my digital camera does the same -- possibly even better because it's more sophisticated. But as I used up an SD card in Ireland taking too much video and then was stuck without space when I needed it, I decided a palm-sized camcorder was worth it. I used it extensively in Cannes -- capturing a lot of footage on a history tour of the city (complete with commentary). It gives me a feel of being "in" the setting. I wouldn't be without it.

Lest you think I've sold my soul to technology, let me assure you that I take along a full complement of pens (right now I'm partial to Staedtler triplus fineliners that I bought at a stationer's on the King's Road in Chelsea) because there are twenty different colors which means I have a pen for every mood (and the variety has proved enchanting to 8-year-olds with mono).

And I have lots of small (say 5" x 8") lined-paper notebooks. I use one as a sort of journal 'day book' to jot memos and references and ideas for the book that will flee if I give them half a chance. This is a catchall, but I wouldn't be without it.

I use another to keep my family history references that I intend to look up and record what I find. And I use a third for the current book. These don't spend the day in my bag, but I add to them as I discover I need to. And they preserve a sort of traveling record of what I've wanted to do and what I've actually done.

There are other things I find useful -- like my cell phone (and I'm thinking a world phone would be a better idea as mine was useless across the pond), and my wallet-sized tube map of London, and my tiny Time Out guide to Cannes and Nice and the French Riviera, which I read ahead of time and left home.

I needed to. I pack too heavy. Just ask Sophie Weston.

I need lessons from Sophie who took a tiny tote along to France and still had room to stuff 2 one-liter bottles of water into it when required to do so.

But I think it will be the clothes I cut down on, not any of the above.

Besides, however lightly I pack, it's impossible not to bring home books and magazines, even if they do weigh a ton. When you go into a bookstore and there are three magazines with cover stories on Hugh Jackman and two with Daniel Craig, I defy you to pack light!

What do you consider essential when you travel? Which would you leave out?

Road Warriors R Us

I just got home and got my clothes washed, and I'm leaving again. This time I'm off to Texas to hang around my daughter's house while she goes to work all day and I stay with the grandkid with mono.

As the grandkid and I get little chance to bond on a regular basis due to the thousand mile or so gap in our proximity, I'm looking forward to it. But I'm sorry she's sick and that that's the reason I am going.

Still, it's a blessing to have the sort of job one can pick up and take along and do at someone else's house. So stand by. I've done all the blogs through the end of the month for Tote Bags and for We Write Romance and for The Pink Heart Society. The first comes on the 20th. And the last two are a week later -- on Monday, the 27th.

I'll try to update my own blog from Texas. That and Christo will be what I'll be doing while the grandkid is sleeping and reading and watching DVDs and working on family history.

In the meantime, here are a couple of photos from Cannes. I had intended to put more up -- and perhaps I'll be able to from down south.

But not tonight. Still packing.

Clean Knickers and a cup of tea

Or why I may never leave Kate Walker's house . . .

Greetings to all from the other side of the pond where the sun is shining and all is well. While I was taking a shower this morning, Kate brought up my clean laundry and a cup of tea, so I came back to my room (shared with Sid the cat) to lovely clean clothes and a sustaining brew.

I could get used to service like that!

Seriously, we have had a great time.Sid has made me most welcome (he's crazy about his Greenies). Flora the floozie has been swanning around showing off her birthday presents. And Dylan, also a greenies fan, has deigned to come have ear rubs every evening.

We had a wonderful time with Michelle Reid and her husband, prowled an old churchyard at a priory near to them, and then drove back to Kates across the Yorkshire Dales. It's very tempting to set a book in England.Who needs these 'exotic' Mediterranean locales?

I'm off today for Sophie Weston's where I will meet the pyrate in her life, her Maine Coon, Tom Kydd. And then we are off to France.

I hope to download some pics when at her house (or in France) so stand by!

On my way . . .

I'll be heading off across the pond on Thursday. I've been getting bags (well, one) packed and unpacked and the things I'm taking whittled down. I hate heavy luggage and I always pack too much.

Fortunately Greenies don't weight much. So Sid and Flora and Dylan, Kate Walker's cats, are going to get lots of treats. I couldn't go see them without the requisite Greenies.

Ever since the late lamented Bob Redford Walker discovered Greenies, they have been at the top of every packing list I've got.

I haven't done as much on Christo as I'd hoped to do this past week. I'm going to be working on some family history articles, too, and so I spent plenty of time going over the catalogue for the Cornwall Record Office to be sure I used my time there wisely.

There's never enough time -- so I need to make best use of what I get.

Consequently Christo has taken a back seat this week. But I expect him to accompany me on the plane. And now that I've figure out how to shut my wireless off, he can talk his head off and I'll type and type and type.

In case you haven't met my friend, the eeepie, it's a great little computer from Asus that has accompanied me on several jaunts this past spring and summer. It's the 900 version with the slightly larger screen than the original.

But it has the same footprint. And it's sooooo much smaller and easier to take along than a full size laptop. I love it. This is its first trip abroad, though, so I'm eager to see how it likes the trip.

My son's Asus eee pc just came back from Italy and had a marvelous time, so I'm hoping Eeepie will do as well.

On the getting things cleared up before I leave, I want to tell Avi that her books went out today. Avi, I hope you get them sometime in the next week (not sure how long it takes to get to your part of the world).

I'll check in and write on the blog when I can get wireless. You should hear from me from Kate's house. And then, with luck, from Cannes. After that, we'll see. Not sure where I'll run into wireless in Cornwall -- at least I don't know how likely it is where we're staying.

Behave yourselves while I'm gone. I'll send pix of the cats -- and anything else I think you'd enjoy.

Here's your friend to keep you company while I'm gone.


Oh, you thought I meant Hugh.

Right. Well, just because you asked --

Are We There Yet?

One of the things about armchair traveling is that you don't have anyone in the back seat saying, "Are we there yet?"

I blogged this weekend on The Pink Heart Society blog about the joys of glossy travel magazines.

And while you can bet I'd take a 'real' trip hands down almost anywhere, there are certain joys to pulling out a magazine, sitting down, putting my feet up and reading my way into the nightlife of Paris or the lure of a honeymoon in Fiji or an island getaway in the Seychelles.

I love reading about almost anything to do with travel. It's the next best thing to being there. And sometimes, given the hassles of getting anywhere today, it's better. Well, maybe not better, but less stressful.

One of my sons, who worked off-shore and overseas for a few years, says still, "I love being other places. I just don't much like getting there."

Amen.

Early on I counseled my kids -- and I continually remind myself -- that 'travel time' is like 'Dream time.' The real world as we know it -- and to some degree control it -- ceases to exist when we travel. We start at home and, until we get where we are going, we're simply at the mercy of forces larger than ourselves.

It pays to remember that when luggage gets lost, planes get delayed or sent to Detroit instead of Philadelphia. It helps when you're entertaining children for 16 hours in the Denver airport because Untied Airlines can't get you on the flight they said you'd be on. Did I misspell something there?

I love my glossy magazines. I love the places they take me that make me want to go buy guide books and book my reservations. I love the people who wander into my mind and say, "I could live there. And you could write a book about me. Let me tell you my story."

I'm doing that in Cannes in early October. Demetrios Savas (Tallie and Theo's brother) has a date with destiny in Cannes. The story -- and a terrific heroine who is going to give Demetrios a run for his money -- appeared when I was reading an article about the film festival there.

Who knew? I certainly didn't when I started out reading that evening.

I'm counting the days.
Every morning I wake up and think, "Are we there yet?"

Filling the memory bank

I wrote a blog piece that will be going live in the morning on July 29 for Tote Bags 'n' Blogs about writers using everything that they experience, witness, glimpse, taste, touch, feel in their books.

Some of those things we set about experiencing deliberately. For example, I specifically watched a professional sand castle building make a life-sized Nissan truck out of sand because he did the same work my hero was going to do.

I spent a day on a Lake Union houseboat asking every question I could think of and taking photos galore so I could write Seb and Neely's story.

I'm going to Cannes in October to do research for Demetrios's book.

But some of what I write about -- most, in fact -- comes out of filtering my characters' lives through my own experiences, my own memories, feelings, worries, relationships. You name it, if it's happened, it's fair game -- which may be why people tend to shy away from writers.

"You're not writing about me, are you?" they say.

No. I'm not. But you might have been with me when I experienced something. You might have seen the same things I did, felt the same way, been upset or delighted or worried just as I was. Such experiences are universal. It's the way readers and writers connect.

How do I know which experiences, feelings, relationships, worries, joys, and family stories will become a part of some book?

I don't.

It's the serendipitous bit of just being alive and living life to the fullest. It's the unexpectedness of experiences that often make them memorable. Yesterday, for example, my sister and I discovered that there were family connections across the river in Grant County, Wisconsin. And so we went exploring there.

We found two of the tiny communities we were looking for. We prowled through three cemeteries. We found the grave of Hannibal Thomas who has, in my estimation, the most genealogically helpful tombstone on record. It gives his birth parish in Cornwall. It gives the date of his birth, the date of his death, his exact age, and tells the date and place to which he emigrated. You can't ask for much more than that.

Not far away we ran across a one-room school with two see-saws, a slide, a tether ball and two outhouses. Right around the bend we happened on an Amish Sunday gathering and knew we'd seen their school.

The kids were as delighted to see us as we were to see them. We got waved at -- and waved back to -- a dozen or more little Amish boys resplendent in their black trousers, pristine white shirts and black vests as they played in the yard. We saw well over twenty buggies lined up in the lane and in the yard.

Will Hannibal make it into a book? Will the school house or the Amish boys or that line of buggies?

I don't know. But the memories are there. The details are emblazoned on my brain. I doubt they'll make it into Christo's book.

But down the road, time will tell.

We've got one more day and a half of "Sister Camp." So far it's been a blast.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

I worked my tail off.

I'm still trying to read through all the handouts I got in my government documents and law libraries research course at Samford University's Institute for Genealogical and Historical Research.

They asked for comments on the evaluation, and my main comment was: Give us the handouts a week early. Then maybe we'll have time to read them before the class is over.

It was a terrific week. It gave me lots of ideas for future research and exploration. And it even provided me with a few clues to follow up on research I'd already begun and had thought I'd probably exhausted. Turns out there is a lot more there.

And, of course, I determined that Natalie dropped out of law school. Always a plus. Now I just have to figure out why she would have thought it was a good idea to go there in the first place.

And I need to think about more of the back story. Maybe do some writing. Scratch a bit -- like Twyla Tharp in The Creative Habit. And I'm reading a book by Sol Stein called On Writing, which I've had for years and which I've only dipped into a few times. It looks like a good book.

I've got photos to download -- including a lovely one of Tess Gerritsen from her visit here two weeks ago. And I have a signed copy of her book, The Mephisto Club, to give away, which I will be doing on Friday. Make a comment and get in the drawing for Tess's book.

If you can give me a good reason why Nat dropped out of law school, you get two spots in the drawing.

I noticed that Anne Gracie is blogging on Tote Bags 'n' Blogs today about being a serial killer. She's pretty much a softie, so I think you can take that with a grain of salt. But there's a great tribute there to her dad on his birthday as well, and that's absolutely heartfelt. Check it out.

on the road

I didnt mean it literally when I said I was over my head earlier this week!

Not under water, at any rate.

But it's getting close to being literally true. We are in Paducah, Kentucky tonight, and we've driven through three torrential downpours today, and sat in a restaurant watching a fourth this evening. If we'd dared go out in it, we'd simply have been pounded into the ground by the sheets of rain or blown away.

At the moment I hear thunder and see lightning and there are way more sirens outside than I want to think about the meaning of. Paducah is a really neat city, and I don't like experiencing it this way. And I don't imagine the folks who live here do either.

Ordinarily we make the trip in one day -- but given the fact that coming south we had to ford a river in Illiois that was crossing Interstate 57, we thought a running start would be good so we didn't have to deal with floods in the dark.

That may have been a good move. Or not.

But I have been told that the dogs are well and the house is above water, so I guess we are in better shape than many.

Our eldest son, who lives much closer to the high water than we do, is keeping us posted. We're hoping for blue skies and light breezes and sunshine for everyone.

And for the record, yes, Natalie did drop out of law school. I'm getting my groove back.

When You're Making Other Plans . . .

Fog, that's what happens.

So we are still here -- waiting to go there -- along with literally millions of other people.

Now we are scheduled to go tomorrow afternoon from another airport about 2 hours from here.

That's the downside. The upside is that it's a non-stop to DFW, so provided the plane flies we will not be bogged down in a hub someplace -- or if we are it will be because we've been diverted and that will be a whole new downside we aren't even contemplating at this point.

My theory about airline travel (and any other sort for that matter) is that it's a whole different sort of time entirely. I suppose it's like "dreamtime" -- though not meaning the same thing. It's a sort of "time" which you step into when you leave wherever you're leaving from, and until you get off at the other end, you're in "travel time" and "real normal time" as we know it ceases to exist.

What is "travel time?" Time when you have no control, you can't plan, you are herded about like a sheep (Eamon, where are you?). And all you can do is take along a good book and go with the flow.

Generally I have no problem with this. Today, for example, it didn't bother me a bit to be told we couldn't go. Any idiot could see we couldn't go.

When I get annoyed is when it's clearly a matter of choice for the airline to muck up peoples' lives. Ordinarily they don't.

But last year they did when they knew perfectly well that a three hour late arriving flight the night before was going to mean that the crew couldn't fly at the very early scheduled time in the morning (there's a rule that says they have to have 8 hours between these flights to sleep). So everyone who had a connection missed it.

The airline people knew this the night before. But they didn't bother to tell anyone not to come at the regular time. They also didn't bother to start booking people on new flights until we'd reached Denver where we sat for 16 hours as flight after flight was already "full."

There were any number of ways they could have made things go more smoothly. They didn't bother. And they didn't even seem to care. Fog doesn't bother me. Disservice to customers does. I don't fly that airline as often as I used to. And it's never my first choice. I'm sure they don't care, but I'm sorry they don't.

But I'm not flying that airline tomorrow -- and it's still going to be a good Thanksgiving.