Once upon a time a young girl knelt on the floor beside her mother as the woman opened a deep wooden chest. Trembling with curiosity,  the girl leaned forward to see the treasures in the chest. A shimmer of gold beneath an old book caught her attention. “What is this, Mama?” 

Mama laughed and tugged the fringe from the bottom of the chest. “Bobby gave this to me a long, long time ago.” Mama flattened the fabric across her knees and smiled. Letting the silky fringe slip over her fingers, she said, “Bobby was my first boyfriend. Long before I knew your Daddy.” The fringe was attached to a colorful picture of a far away place–Texas. 

Mama read the poem on the pillow cover.

Sweetheart

I thought that you would like to know

That someone’s thoughts go where you go.

That life is richer sweeter far.

For such a sweetheart as you are. 

The young girl sighed with the romance of it. This boy had loved her mother enough that he thought of her while he was so far away–in Texas. The pillow cover with all it’s bright colors and sweet words and gold fringe seemed to be everything interesting and romantic and adventurous to the young girl. She determined that one day she would travel to far away places–like Texas, and even beyond–and she would collect beautiful things to remind her of love and adventure. 

Mama folded the cloth and put it back in the chest. She closed the lid, trapping the glimmering golden fringe and cedar aroma until the next time the treasure chest would be opened. The girl locked away in her memory the image of the pillow cover and planned her journeys from the swing set in the back yard.

To be continued…

The Texas Sweetheart Pillow

Strolling down Kerouac Alley, we stopped to read the quotes inset in the bricks, appreciating the insight and wisdom of some of our most famous authors and spokesmen for a generation.

The quiet of the store approached reverence, though we did whisper among ourselves wondering where they kept the romance novels. Not finding a large selection of romance (actually, none) we made it to the poetry section. Finally, I settled on a copy of DHARMA BUMS by Kerouac and a great little book on defining poetry by Ferlinghetti. Unfortunately, no Ferlinghetti sightings today.

If you go to San Francisco, wear some flowers in your hair and visit the City Lights Bookstore.

The second thing on my list was an old fashioned souvenir pillow complete with the Golden Gate Bridge embroidered in glittery red and gold thread on creamy satin and trimmed with flashy gold fringe. I think I remember my grandmother having something like that on her sofa, and I just adored it. It was about the most beautiful thing my child’s eyes beheld.

As I  cruised the Geary Street shops with Mary Louise Wells and Debbie Pfeiffer (pictured left), we did find a number of treasures. Of course parasols had to be purchased for our girls back home, along with the ubiquitous Alcatraz coffee mug for my hubby, a jade dragon for my personal power and several good fortune and wealth charms for my office. Since I killed by Lucky Bamboo plant, I thought a few new good luck charms in my writing office were a wise investment.

 Oh, back to the quest for the pillow. None to be found. At least none as fabulously kitchie as the one of my memory. I settled for a rather nice pillow cover with the Chinese words for good fortune embroidered in  scarlet and gold.

And no honey, I won’t put it in the living room.

Of course, even though I’m having more fun than should be legal, I don’t usually take things at surface value. I have to examine a little deeper and what I came up with after an evening of dancing my toes off is that this party is a celebration of women–all shapes, all sizes, all ages.

On the dance floor we shed our inhibitions, our worries, our cares, our career pressures, and shake our booties like there’s no tomorrow. It’s liberating to watch small groups of dancers performing spontaneous choreography, corny though it may be. It’s fun to let loose and play with our sexuality in a way we never would’ve if the crowd were more equally male and female.

So, the next time you get a chance, I hope you, too, dance, dance, dance.

While noshing on truffle pate, smoked duck and assorted cheeses, “The Free Three” decided we didn’t really want to be publisher-free any longer. It’s time for us to get down, dirty and serious with our writing careers. In the Mark’s suave atmosphere, with a background of live jazz and the city spread at our feet, we made a pact. For the next twelve months, until the 2009 RWA Conference in Washington, D.C., we’re going to give it our all and push for a contract in twelve months. We made plans of action, along with a commitment to blog about our progress on each of our websites under the topic Contract in 12. You can follow our ups and downs, highs and lows and join the celebration as each of us sign the dotted line on a publishing contract at the end of the Twelve. At least, that’s the plan.

This meeting of minds in the sky must have been fated, because as we departed and asked for a cab, we were ushered to the hotel limo and introduced to our driver–Clovis, the beautiful Brazilian man pictured above. What can I say?

Not only was he a very, very good driver (and very helpful with my seat belt since my hand was in a cast), he was easy on the eyes with a fab sense of humor, a mellifluous voice and seductive accent. Needless to say, this was the best ride I had in San Francisco.