Wayne and I had a laid back weekend with family and friends. The grandkids were over, and we steamed clams, dipping them in butter and eating them right out of the shell. Bailey and Carter, our two grandchildren who live the furthest away, claimed they liked clams better in chowder.

Two friends are stopping by this afternoon; friends we haven't seen in more than twenty years. We both had our children around the same time and attended the same church, then Wayne and I moved, and we lost contact. That happens, but we're eager to catch up with each others lives.

Today is the first official meeting of the Debbie club. You have to be named Debbie to join. It all started about a month ago when I was at Sea-Tac airport.

You see, every year for Christmas Wayne buys me a pass to the Alaska Airlines Boardroom, where I can wait for a flight in relative quiet and enjoy a few goodies to munch on and drink a latte. When I went to check in, they had three Board Room receptionists—all named Debbie. We got to talking and decided to form a Debbie (Debbie, Debbie, and Debby) Club and have lunch. It sounds like fun, doesn't it?

My daughter, Jody, and I, decided to join a fitness center. I haven't been swimming since the surgery on my hand and have sorely missed the exercise. I wanted to encourage Jody, and apparently she was looking to encourage me, because she gave me a new workout outfit for Mother's Day.

We arrived at the center eager and excited, and full of enthusiasm. I changed clothes and felt a bit guilty about wearing new clothes to sweat in. I have plenty of old outfits that would serve just as well. The music started as we circled the room, moving from one machine to the next, laughing ourselves silly as we learned how to properly exercise each part of our body.

By the time I arrived home I was pooped–too pooped to cook dinner. Besides, "American Idol" was on. So Wayne and I had guacamole and chips for dinner, with a popcorn chaser. I weighed myself this morning and was shocked to learn I hadn't lost anything. I can't imagine where I went wrong.

I'm humming that old song from the rock group Queen this morning: "We are the champions, we are the champions . . ." There's an excellent reason why, too. My team, Debbie's Killer Bees, took third place in Kitsap County's15th Annual Corporate Spelling Bee, which benefits the Literacy Council of Kitsap County, Washington. My team consisted of Doug, our maintenance man; Ruthanne, a local bookseller; and Audrey, a friend. Lest anyone assume I was part of the team, I must confess that I was not. Like most of us who are dyslexic, I'm an extremely creative speller. I did, however, lead an enthusiastic and vocal cheering squad. We certainly had a good time, and after fourteen years of sponsoring a group, this is only the third time we've walked away with a trophy. Yea, Team!

I've been on the road for the last week or so in Knoxville, Tennessee and Chattanooga, too. Wonderful people live in this fine state, which is green and lush and lovely. The autographings went well, and I was able to meet up with other writers, too. The highlight of the visit was a tea with my dear friend, June Scobee Rodgers, and her friends, The Floozies. The Floozies have made me an honorary member. Over the years, I have received any number of awards and acknowledgements, but being an honorary Floozy ranks up near the top.

The latter part of last week was spent in our nation's capital, where I attended Book Expo America, a huge bookselling convention. Not only did I pick up enough free books to sink an aircraft carrier, but as a fun aside I was able to tour the White House. Lest you assume Laura and George were there to greet me at the front door, let me assure you I was one among many. We have been blessed as a nation, and being in this truly inspiring town was an incredible experience.

My problem, I've decided, is that I simply don't have time to be a writer. It's true. First off, I had three doctor appointments this week. Nothing serious—just routine stuff—but physicians expect everyone to work around their schedules. Go figure. So, each one of those appointments was a chunk of time out of my day.

Then there were three lunches with long-time friends I haven't seen in ages. Add to that a couple of speaking engagements and the fact I'm getting ready for eight days on the road. Just ask Renate how much effort it takes to get me ready for a trip—it's amazing. People often ask me how I was able to write when the children were young and had constant demands. Those were the easy times compared to my life today. Although, rest assured, I wouldn't change a thing, even if I could.

Wednesday is my administrative day, which means I take care of all the things that pile up on my desk that I didn't have time for at the end of a writing day. Today I'm writing a 500-word article, as part of my upcoming "Ask the Author" feature on www.romantictimes.com; a letter for my webmaster, and a letter to my precious 95-year-old Aunt Betty for Mother's Day. Following that, I'm off to lunch with a friend.

Then my daughter, Jody, and I are going to check out Curves to see if we want to join, and following that we're getting our nails done. Jody has Wednesdays off, so this works out well. On my way home I'll stop off for groceries. I'll be out on tour all of next week, and Wayne needs a fresh supply of peanut butter and crackers. Being the generous, sensitive wife that I am, I might even buy him some cheese to nibble on, too.

For the first time in two weeks, I had a bath without my arm swaddled in plastic wrap. Boy, was that nice! After the stitches came out, I stayed at the office until almost 6 p.m., answering e-mails, which had accumulated to the point they were about to overload my system. I'm ALMOST to the point that I can see the top of my desk. I feel incredible. The thing about writers is that we're happiest when we're writing, and I haven't been able to do that for nearly two long weeks.

The stitches are out, and I'm typing with all ten fingers once again. Boy, does it feel great! I can go back to writing. I found it utterly frustrating, pecking away with two miserable fingers. I might as well have been attempting to chisel it in stone. I'm home this week and then off again to tour for SUSANNAH'S GARDEN, which, thanks to all of you, is selling fabulously well. It's a terrific Monday.

I'm still walking on air after my near meeting with the four finalists from American Idol (they were in a different studio) and the actual meeting with Rob and David yesterday. Last night included an incredible dinner in a posh Beverly Hills restaurant.

Today I had the opportunity to browse in several yarn shops, which is still exciting for me. I have yet to become tired of visiting yarn shops, and today was no exception. But, after two full, full days, I'm glad to be on my way home.