I remember when I was little, I had a book of addresses to different companies that I could have, what I considered prizes, sent to me (though most mothers would probably consider it junk).  It was completely centered around the experience of receiving something in the mail.  And we all know how much kids LOVE to get mail.  It’s sad that such excitement changes over time…those letters from cousins, cards from grandma and stray Christmas presents from loved ones across the country suddenly morph into the mortgage bill, a summary of winter taxes due, the water bill, the plethora of magazines you never signed up for but mysteriously get sent anyway, etc. etc.  The shine of getting mail begins to dull. And then you publish your first book…

Excitement bubbles inside of you, like a lonely house pet that turns hysterical when its owner approaches the door.  You watch through the window like a true stalker as the mailman climbs out of the vehicle.  Your heart hammers.  Which house is he going to?  Mine?  The neighbor’s?  He rounds the back of the little…mail car.  The salty taste of blood coats your tongue where you’ve bitten your inside lip too hard.  He pulls out a good size box and glances at the house across the street.  No! 

He turns to check out the address on your mailbox, comparing it against the number on the great mystical parcel in his arms.  Yes!  Yes!  A smile lights his face and he does one of those cheesy nods that only television commercials can pull off…as if every mailman gets a thrill out of delivering a big package.  In slow motion, he makes his way up the driveway.  A gust of wind blows through his comb-over, tipping it completely upright on his head.  What an ass.  He climbs the stairs to the front porch.  You stand behind the curtain with a ridiculous grin on your face; your hand balled into a fist, caught between your teeth.  He drops the package on the porch, winks at no one in particular, then skips down the stairs…all still in slow motion.

You wait.  Mustn’t open the door while he’s still in view.  You’ll look too much like a scavenger.  Desperate.  A bit nutty. 

He putters off down the block and you shoot across the living room to the front door; a sprint that would have made your track coach proud.  A golden light shines down on the package, sitting magnificently on your doorstep.  You reach down to nab it up and shake it a little.  Yep.  YEP!!  They’ve arrived.  Without bothering to close the front door, you race to the kitchen and scour your junk drawer for a box cutter.  Damn it!  When the hell did I use it last?!  So you grab one of your abnormally sharp Cutco knives from the block, nearly removing your fingertip as you slice through the packaging.  Honestly, would you have felt any pain?  Probably not.  You’d have dug a bloody, fingertipless hand inside the box and still held up one of these beauties in all its gory (glory):


Yeah baby...the bookmarks arrived!!  Thanks to Su at Earthly Charms Graphic Design and Printing, they turned out, BETTER than I imagined!!  If you need bookmarks, she's reasonably priced, does a nice job and collaborates on the design.

And so I decided to see if any of the local businesses would be willing to set them out.  I recruited a couple family members to help me out with this.  Well, turns out a lot of places were willing to set them out and I want to give them a big HUGE thank you! 








You guys rock!!  Also thank you to Caribou Coffee in Ann Arbor, Panera Bread in Green Oaks and Grand Blanc, and Tropical Smoothie Cafe in Grand Blanc for setting out my bookmarks.

So...think you might like to have some Halos bookmarks for your local coffee shop, books store, or even hair salon?  Let me know and I'll send ya some!  Fill out the form on the Contact Me page :)