Maddy, my six-year-old granddaughter, is spending the night with me tonight. Maddy and I share a special bond in that we share a birthday. I tell her she's the best birthday gift I ever received. The last time I picked up Maddy for a special night together, she rode in the back seat and was muttering something under her breath. When I asked her to repeat what she'd said, she sighed with long-suffering patience and explained. "Sorry, Grandma, that wasn't for adult ears."

Okay, I'll admit it. I have the thighs that ate New York. For an entire week, I ate in posh New York restaurants. Saturday night before Mrs. Peale's birthday bash came the moment of truth: panty hose. Putting them on isn't a pretty sight. They have to feel right, so I do these rather complicated stretching exercises and prance around the room like a high-stepping horse. Bend over, squat down—that sort of thing. When I found my daughters staring at me with a look of utter befuddlement, I explained what I was doing and why. Then I added that I don't even let their father see me put on panty hose. Jody looked at me and said, "Gee, Mom, how did we get so lucky?"

My nine-year-old grandson, Cameron, is walking on air this week. He's made a life decision. Cameron has decided to be a general in the Army. It all started this summer when he arranged little green army men in his brother's sandbox in battle formation. He was so proud of his accomplishment that he insisted his mother take a photograph of his work. The idea was that she should hand over the picture in case Jenny happened to run into someone from the Army on our recent travels to New York.

As it happened, my friend, June Rodgers, is married to a retired three-star General. Jenny shared Cameron's picture with Don. Good man that he is, Don Rodgers wrote Cam a letter praising his efforts and asked Cam's permission to share the battle plan with his friends in the Pentagon. Yup, it won't be long now, and I'll be grandmother to another Colin Powell.

New York was incredible, and the weather couldn't have been more perfect. The trip was centered around a celebration, and my daughters, Jody and Jenny, and I kicked up our heels. Mine didn't go quite as high as they once did, but I did manage to keep up with the girls. Mrs. Peale's 100th birthday celebration is one I will long remember, along with the three (yes, three!) Broadway shows we took in while there. Today I'm back in the office and taking time to savor how good it is to be home again.

Debbie is in New York with her daughters Jody and Jenny, along with her Guideposts family, to celebrate the momentous event of Mrs. Norman Vincent Peale’s (Ruth Stafford Peale) 100th Birthday.

Wayne is here at the office, patiently waiting for me to write this blog so we can leave for a Costco signing in Lacey. I love Costco, and doing a signing there is a real bonus. Not only do I get to write off the trip BUT I can shop afterwards. Heaven knows I need that gallon of Kikoman soy sauce. I can divide it up and give some to the kids. The same with that hundred pound bag of flour, although I don't really bake as much as I once did. Still, flour is handy to have around. I love the fact spices are sold by the pound. I can really use ten pounds of cinnamon.

I'm meeting with four writing friends this afternoon for a plotting session. We do this intermittently when one of us needs to brainstorm ideas. I find it both fun and invigorating to throw out possible twists and turns along with plot points.

Wayne never really has understood the plotting process. A while ago, he settled back in his recliner, closed his eyes and announced he wasn't to be disturbed. He was plotting.

Today my daughters and I are going shopping for our trip to New York City. We're headed off to the big city to celebrate Ruth Stafford Peale's 100th birthday party. (Her husband, Norman Vincent Peale, wrote The Power of Positive Thinking.) His book was a tremendous help to me as I struggled to sell my novels. I wrote Dr. Peale after my first sale, and he wrote me back to congratulate me. I've never forgotten his kindness, which is one reason I'm proud to be part of the Guideposts family.

Wayne and I are heading across Puget Sound this evening to meet friends from our old neighborhood. I can't even remember the last time we ventured to Seahurst.

Both of our boys were born when we lived in the corner house that Wayne painted bright yellow because it's my favorite color. (We already had two girls when we moved in.) It was a two-bedroom place with a hedge and a wrought iron gate. (Two bedrooms and four kids!) The neighborhood was filled with wonderful friends. We're in contact with them even now, although the keeping in touch has mostly dwindled down to a card at Christmas. It's nice to look back every now and again and appreciate where we came from and all that we shared.

I was at a Readers Luncheon in Sacramento on Saturday. I flew in on an early morning flight and took the last flight out that evening, after a full and wonderful day. Unlike almost every other flight I've been on recently, there were only NINE passengers on the 737, so the flight attendant moved us all into first class.

Along with the automatic upgrade, we could have all the liquor we wanted. I enjoy a good class of wine, but it was too late and I was too tired, so I asked for tomato juice. On second thought that sounded rather bland, so I asked for a glass of Bloody Mary juice. The flight attendant asked me if I knew what those were called. I did. I said, "A Virgin Mary." I was corrected. They're referred to as a Bloody Shame!