Before I was so rudely interrupted,

I was telling you about the Manor Ball. I know it's been over for days, now, but I'm still glowing a bit -- I mean, who wouldn't be?


As I was saying, we arrived at the door, where Willow greeted us warmly. A quick look around revealed a party in full swing. I saw George Sanders twirling Zsa Zsa Gabor around the floor, dancing dangerously close to the bar - oh, maybe that's where that stain on Zsa Zsa's dress came from. I must say, she didn't seem fazed by the stain. She was dancing and laughing, then leaning in close to George's ear.  George, meanwhile, was looking across the dance floor, seemingly entranced by the lush figure of Marilyn Monroe. My, my.

Denzel, on the other hand, had eyes only for me. We danced and danced, until I simply had to take a break. I had long since lost my near-naked shoes (under a potted plant somewhere, if I remember correctly) and was dancing barefoot. We went out to the terrace. I collapsed into the nearest chair. Denzel gallantly took my left ankle in his hands and massaged my aching foot while I did my best not to moan.

Oh, dear. This is bordering on TMI, isn't it?

Fast forward, then, to the end of the party, the delicious brunch, the much-needed coffee, the startling sight of Marilyn holding court in the altogether -- this was indeed a night to remember.

Willow, you are indeed the hostess with the mostest. Thank you again for your gracious hospitality.

At last! At last!

I just glanced outside, and there it was -- my chariot, as Denzel called it -- the gleaming black Lear jet that will whisk us off to Willow's Manor for the Annual Ball. I'm still basking in the glow of last Autumn's party! I can hardly believe that a whole year has passed.

Just a moment. I am dressed, but I need to fasten the clasp of my diamond necklace...such a nuisance. It must be my excitement that makes it so difficult. I know. I'll just ask my handsome escort to fasten it for me.

 What do you think of my shoes? I decided this year to be completely impractical. These shoes had a lot to do with that decision -- I simply couldn't resist them.  They will show off my delicate ankles when I lift the hem of my gown in one of the livelier dances.

Oh, and speaking of gowns, this is the one that stole my heart. I know it's daring, but I'm feeling strangely free tonight, as if my time has come to shine.

 
It was the back of the gown that I found irresistible. I hope it has the same effect on my date.

Oh, yes. Judging from the expression on his face, I'd say the dress is a success, wouldn't you?

"Denzel, would you mind?"

"Not at all, my dear. It's my pleasure."  And he fastens the diamond necklace around my neck, then twirls me to get a proper look at me in my dress.

"You look fabulous," he says, and we're away. Our pilot helps us both into the plane and, at a nod from Denzel, goes to the flight deck, leaving behind a chilled bottle of Bollinger and two glasses. Denzel pours. Oh, my. Champagne. My head was already spinning with excitement, and now this!

It seems as if we have just left the ground, and already I see the lights of the runway below us.  We land perfectly, and when I look outside I see a friendly face. It is our chauffeur, who will drive us the last part of our journey. He waves and smiles.

In moments, we pull up outside the Manor. Oh, just look at it -- the fairy lights are enchanting, and I can hear the music. Is that Leonard Cohen I hear?  Yes! He's singing "Dance Me to the End of Love." Oh, what could be more perfect?

"Shall we?" says Denzel. He gives me his arm. I feel like a princess. As we reach the door, our lovely hostess appears, beaming, and hugs us both.  "Come in, come in," she says. Then she whispers "A few people arrived rather early, so don't be surprised if the party is a little lively already!"

To be continued......

Preparing for the Ball

I have had the most wonderful time getting ready for the ball, probably setting a world record for speed shopping. I would show you my dress, but I don't want Denzel to see it until he arrives at my door.

Speaking of my door, we might have had a little problem in that I'm not exactly sure where I'll be when it's time to leave for the manor. I confess that I was a little worried,  so I called Denzel. "No problem, my dear," he said. "I'll find you wherever you are." The next thing I knew, this photo arrived on my phone -- with a note reading "Your chariot,  madame."  Isn't Denzel a darling? I needn't have worried. No matter where I am, we'll be able to get to the ball on time.

*****************************************************************

Update:  We drove to Butte this morning and took The Turtle to Brooks-Hanna Ford. To our delight, they were able to put poor Turtle together again in just over two hours, at 1/10 the amount it cost us the last time we had an exhaust problem.  During our layover, we walked over to something called Montana Club and ate lunch. Our sandwiches came with a choice of salad, soup, or fries. We asked what the soup was, and the waitress answered "Spinach - cream of spinach." Predictably, Robin made a face and I said "Yumm."  When my soup arrived, I gave Robin a taste; he changed his mind, and soon he had his own bowl of soup. My impression was that the kitchen had skipped the cream and gone straight to butter, the soup was so rich. I think it was a 4,000 calorie lunch, but oh, my. (Who was it that said there's no such thing as "too rich"? Wait. I think that was me.)

In the course of the day, we left behind all traces of the Great Plains and moved into the North Woods. We've stopped for the night at Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, not far from the Washington border and only 399 miles from Angel May's house, where we hope to spend the next couple of nights before we take the ferry to Vancouver Island and head home.

That means that  I really should be resting for tomorrow's drive -- but what are the chances? Oh, look at the time! Denzel will be picking me up in the Lear jet any minute now, so I'm off to make myself gorgeous.

This is what happened: My sad tale of woe


Yesterday, we drove from Jamestown, North Dakota to Miles City, Montana. I had begun to get into the rhythm of the trip, and I rode contentedly along, noting changes in the topography, thinking about what I would wear to Willow's Manor Ball and who my escort would be, planning to write about it when we settled in for the night.


At Miles City, the very kind lady who ran the RV park assured us that yes, there was wi-fi. She was right. There was indeed a wi-fi network, and we did manage to log on to it for a minute, but then we were thrown off, and we never did manage to get back on -- so there went my plans. On the bright side, we had stopped at about 1:30 in the afternoon to check out Theodore Roosevelt National Park -- specifically Painted Canyon -- and I had taken a lot of photos there. In lieu of trying to remember what happened yesterday, a lot of water having gone under the bridge since then, I'll show you those. Then I'll tell you about today.

So that was yesterday. Today, we left Miles City at 8:30 in the morning. Everything went well until mid-afternoon. Highway 94 had given over to Highway 90 at Billings, Montana, and we had got as far as Livingston, just a few miles east of Bozeman. Suddenly, the engine quit. Deja vu. The last time we drove through this part of the world, the same thing happened. And happened. And happened. We knew what to do. "We should loosen the gas cap," I said.

"I did that this morning," said Robin.

Hmmm. After a dozen or so false starts, we managed to limp off the highway and into the lot of an RV dealer/repair shop. They had a look, said it was probably vapour lock, but advised us to take the machine to Silent Knight Muffler Shop (I love that name) in Bozeman and have our exhaust leak fixed. Sure enough, we had noticed a noise -- but we just had the exhaust fixed. Oh, well. Never mind. Off we went to Silent Knight. The fellow there sent us to the Ford dealer in Bozeman, who in turn set up an appointment for tomorrow morning at the Ford dealer in Butte, about an hour and a half from here. Tomorrow morning, then, we will find out whether this is a quick fix or whether we have to cut our trip short and head into Canada.

So here we are, at a very pleasant place called Sunrise Campground, baking in 30C heat but otherwise comfortably settled for the night. The wi-fi actually works (a big plus) and the office offers a no-charge loan of dvds for the night. I chose "Crazy Heart" on the manager's recommendation -- (When he came  back to the office after showing Robin to our site, he said "Your husband said you would be bringing back a chick flick." so I asked him to pick one we might both like.) And --- I got "Letters to Juliet", which was recommended to us just the other day.

Meanwhile, there still remains the problem of getting ready for a ball -- and by the way, my apologies for not linking to Willow's blog when I first brought the matter up.  So far, this is what I've decided:

My date. As soon as I let it be known that I would attend, the invitations came flooding in. (So little time...)  Colin Firth was on the phone within minutes, wanting to repeat last year's frolic, but that would be so -- last year, no? I considered going with Robert Downey Jr., but he's been doing all that Iron Man stuff lately, and I wasn't sure that was the kind of image I wanted to present -- then I came across Denzel's note, scribbled on the back of his calling card (Isn't that delightfully Old World? I'd never have expected it!).  "Let's dance the night away," he wrote.

Oh, yeah. Denzel it is. Here he is with that other redhead at the Academy Awards, looking as if he'd much rather that I were there.

Speaking of redheads, I should confess that I've let my redness slip of late, opting for a more Distinguished (old) look -- but for the Ball, I can reverse that process. Also, it should be said, I tend to wear my hair quite short (like this)

but again, the Willow Manor Ball is a magical event, and for the occasion, I intend to look more like Rita Hayworth in Gilda.

There. I have a date, and I know how I'll be wearing my hair. Now I really must start shopping.

We've arrived!



Isn't it splendid? My heart is absolutely pounding with excitement. Just look at the beautiful gardens, all aglow with fairy lights - and the brilliant entryway.






Oh, Willow has done herself proud! We just climbed out of the Bentley and left it in the capable hands of Willow's parking attendants. Oh, wait - I nearly forgot my hostess gift. Here - have a look. I think I chose well - a literary gift for a literary hostess. It's a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice - fitting, don't you think, considering that I have Colin Firth, the definitive Mr. Darcy, on my arm?

Listen! Can you hear the music? Oh, I can hardly wait to be twirling around and around the ballroom, my ears and my heart filled with that wonderful sound. Is that Herr Mozart's orchestra? Splendid, indeed!

Shall We Dance?







It's here at last -- the Willow Manor Ball! I wasn't in town for last year's ball, so this year's invitation came as a delightful surprise. As soon as I read it, I set about my preparations - shopping, making arrangements for transportation -oh, by the way, what do you think of my Bentley? I've had it detailed for the occasion (gilding the lily, I confess. The car is pristine.) and the rear-seat bar is stocked with champagne and strawberries, to tide us over on the way to the ball.





I took an inordinate amount of time picking out my dancing shoes. I wanted something elegant, but something that I could comfortably wear while I danced for hours and hours in the arms of my partner. In the end, I chose these. They are satin pumps, designed for dancing, in a neutral colour with just a bit of sheen - not so much as to compete with my dress:



Speaking of dresses, I've been so excited, and also terribly worried that I wouldn't be able to find something to wear. I don't know why I worried so much, though. I found the absolutely perfect, perfectly splendid gown. It suits me very well, don't you think? Not only does it highlight the wasp waist I've worked so hard to attain, but it shows off my new, youthful face and skin (By the way, there was no surgery involved - just a bit of magic that I learned on the set of Bewitched).






And here is - Wait - are you sitting down? Get out your fans, ladies. First, I must tell you a secret - well, two secrets - First, I thought of asking Matt McConaughey to the ball. He certainly knows his way around the dance floor, as those of you who have seen The Wedding Planner will agree, but I was afraid that we would start talking about his role in my book, and this evening is meant to be a break from all that. Then, Antonio Banderas was hinting about escorting me, and I confess I was tempted, as he dances divinely. He is particularly adept at the tango.



In the end, though, a way with the tango just wasn't enough. I needed the perfect partner, and there was only one man who fit that bill. There were other ladies who felt the same way, but when he saw me, my dream partner would hold no other woman in his perfect arms, twirl no other across the ballroom to the swelling strains of the immortal Strauss waltzes.


You may not be able to pick us out of the crowd, but we have danced together before, and if you know where to look, you'll see us, and you'll see how happy we are to be dancing together.

So, without further ado, I present for your admiration (and your envy, if I'm to be perfectly honest) my escort for the evening, the glorious Colin Firth, Darcy himself.


Eat your heart out, Elizabeth Bennett!

Theme Thursday - Collections




I know. I know. The photo on the left isn't what you would expect from a post about collections. But as it happens, I had forgotten that it was Thursday. My dear friend Angel May reminded me by sending me an e-mail that said something like "So. Are you going to do a Theme Thursday post today?"

Originally, I was going to post something called "Serendipity." That will have to wait. It's Theme Thursday! Meanwhile, I've been invited to Willow's Manor Ball, and I'm very, very excited about that. Not only do I get to go to the ball, I also get to show off my collection. (You thought I'd never get to the point, didn't you?)

What do I collect? Actors.

Yes, actors. I haven't been collecting actors for a long time -- just since I started working on my preparations for NaNoWriMo. I am trying to remember who first suggested that one way to get a handle on your characters was to cast a well-known actor to play each of them. Perhaps it was Willow herself. (Whoever it was, if you read this, please please let me know in the comments section, so that I can properly credit you!) So. I will choose an actor from my collection (I think I know already who my date will be!) to accompany me to the Manor. The rest of my collection of actors will ride in our wake, singing loudly, poking their heads out through the roofs of their limousines, disturbing the peace -- except for the ones that do their celebrating at my own super-hip satellite location, waiting to meet the revelers when they arrive for the after-ball.

Would you like to see a few of the actors in my collection? I'd be delighted to show you.


This lovely lady is Nicole Kidman. (By the way, who is that man that's ogling her?) She will be playing Bridget Connelly, my MC. Nicole would be shocked to know how much de-glamourizing she will have to do for this part. Bridget is not a movie star.

Nicole was actually the first actor I collected. Long before I considered casting her in Fly Away Home, I snagged this photo of Nicole so that I would have something to show to hairdressers. Beth, who cuts my hair when I'm at home, can't be expected to accompany me on all my travels, so I needed a cheat sheet to show the substitute hairdressers just what I wanted to look like. "A foot taller, forty pounds lighter, thirty years younger -- and oh yeah, with hair like this." So Nicole takes up residence on my laptop -- as my wallpaper, in fact -- whenever I travel.

Then came NaNoWriMo and that marvelous suggestion. The first character I thought up was Billy Mitchell. I had no idea who he was. I knew only his name. As I thought about him, though, he began to take shape. This is the shape he took. Not bad, eh?


Yep. The delightful Matthew McConaughey. Shimmering in the sunlight. Oh, dear. I must say, he was wearing clothes when I collected him. Won't he make a beautiful Billy Mitchell, though? Once I had a face for Billy, his character was a lot easier to map out. I think I thought of Matthew right away because my baby sister actually knows him. What's that? Two degrees of separation?



The only actor (so far) who has failed to fit right into the collection is John Cusack, who will play Hugh Beachley. This is not to say that John isn't a lovely man. He is. That's the problem. He's a little lovelier than Hugh -- or a little lovelier than Hugh started out to be. The upshot of that is that Hugh is changing. In fact, a lot of things about the story are changing. Half of me wanted to put John back on the shelf and find another actor, but the other half just adores John Cusack. If he wants a script change, who am I to argue?

I just went to check. There are thirteen actors in my collection, and I have bids in on a couple more. Wouldn't it be great to have shelves full of actors (I think that's called a stable, actually) to call on when you need faces for your characters? I'll save the rest of my collection for the night of the ball, and I won't tell you which one will be escorting me. All I'll say is Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.

Meanwhile, you can find more Theme Thursday posts here. This week's theme is hosted by Alan. Thank you, Alan.