There’s a chipmunk outside my window, and boy, does he have a LOT to say. He’s chirping and dancing and chirping some more. It’s good to hear him. And see him. He and his friends hide during the cold months. His return is a sign that winter’s over.

That has nothing to do with today’s newsletter, except he’s making it super hard to concentrate. He’s so freaking cute and he’s also freaking distracting. I’ve got flowers on my patio that need planting, and it’s like he’s exhorting me to get outside already and take care of it.

I will, Alvin. Just give me a minute?

Alvin. Do you remember Alvin and the Chipmunks? Did you know they had a Christmas album? It was my grandpa’s favorite, and every year we’d hear those high-pitched voices belting out holiday tunes. Who knew that little girl singing along would end up writing a book set in a fictional town named Alvin’s Landing, which would also inspire my second mystery series?

It only took me a few decades.

I’m not complaining. I’ve had a very busy life, with enough twists and turns to require a pro-level detangler. Yet somehow, I’ve ended up exactly where that little girl wanted to be.

See, she loved to read. Flashlight under the covers, ignoring relatives during those holidays, etc. She knew she wanted to write. She knew she wanted to tell stories. But it seemed see had to live a few of her own first.

Yesterday I celebrated my 55th birthday. On March 14, I began a whole 55 to 55 project. The details are private, but I did mention that I knew I wanted to start my birthday watching the sunrise on a beach. I didn’t know where, but I’d make it happen.

And I did! We stayed at the only hotel on a beach in Illinois. I got up at 4:13am, did my morning ritual, and by 5:30am I had toes in sand waiting for the sun to crest the horizon.

It was absolutely glorious.

I cried. With joy. The last 55 days have been transformative, and I was exactly where I needed to be.

Just like I am now. Many of those twists in my life have been rough. Cancer and diabetes are the most recent travails, but like everything else, I’ve survived and they’ve made me stronger and, I believe, wiser.

And they’ve all given me plenty to write about. “Fodder,” I like to call them.

One item in the fodder file is the time I rode Amtrak Empire Builder and we got stuck in the Rocky Mountains for four hours. Alex Paige told me she was on that train, too, and there was a murder, and I needed to write about it.

Well, last night for my birthday we rented Murder on the Orient Express. Although I’ve read lots of Agatha Christie books, I hadn’t read that, nor seen the movie. Imagine my surprise (and distress) when her train got stuck on the tracks, too. “No!” I shouted to Jim. “It’s going to look like I’m riffing off of Agatha!”

I suppose that’s not the worst thing I could do. People are creating “retellings” all the time. I guess it’ll go in the author note at the end of the book.

Where is this all going? I don’t know. Apparently, like my noisy friend Alvin, I’ve got a lot to say. I could probably fill you in on a few more details, but it’s Friday and I know you’ve got things to do.

And I better plant those flowers, if Alvin’s got anything to say about it.

Happy reading!

Theresa