Allison Pittman's Blog

This arm belongs to a man named Marty.

This summer, I'm finding myself taking an unexpected journey. Not a road trip, not a flight to an unknown city, no cross-country trek to the tune of "This Land is Your Land." No, my journey will take place within four walls (give or take), and I think I'm more nervous about it than I would be if I were to hit the open road without a road map.

You see,

(the following is nothing more than my humble opinion...)

Let me say first of all, that Mikey and I watch Downton Abbey like it's an episode of Mystery Science Theater, with our own self-indulgent and frankly PG-13 witty commentary. I knew going in to the episode that Matthew was going to --wait for it-- be "written out." And I understand. On any given serial, you have to cut the dead weight

(Re-sharing from last year...)

Every year for Valentine's day, my Mikey finds some quirky way to present me with my box of chocolates. Years ago, I opened my eyes to find myself staring right at it as it nestled on his pillow. I went straight from dream-land to treat-land, popping two or three before I even crawled out of bed. What a yummy, decadent way to start the day, even though it would

My favorite time of the entire Holiday Season is this week between Christmas and New Year's. Pressure's off, house is in a big enough to make you really want to do something about it. The days alternate between accomplishment and laziness. It's a time to look back and look forward. Transition, if you will. And while it's tempting to post my resolutions in some attempt at accountability, I'm

All month long I've been reading my friends' and family's posts on facebook for the 30 Days of Thankfulness. And, with every post, I've felt more and more like a slouch for not participating. But, that's me--this frustrating combination of hating to be late, but always missing deadlines.

So, as we cling to this final day of November, I'm clinging to the caboose of gratitude and giving it a

Last Saturday night, 700 people witnessed a miracle. Me, speechless.



Gals at the gala: (l-r) Raquel, Anita, Moi, Sandy, Elizabeth

I was on the stage at the banquet that caps the annual American Christian Fiction Writers Conference. Moments before, I had the honor of being named ACFW's Mentor of the Year. I knew I was a finalist for the award, but as I never really pictured myself winning, I

Earlier this summer, women were flocking to theaters to see a little film called Magic Mike. I don't know much about the story line, but then I'm pretty sure few of the women dragging themselves out of the theater did, either. Something about strippers and oil and that odd fashion choice of opting for a tie and vest while eschwing the shirt. (That's ESchewing ladies, not chewing...)

Anyway, not

Notebooks, pens, Fiskars scissors--ahhhh...the great big bins of back-to-school. It is the only form of shopping that I actually enjoy. In our household, it is a celebration of near holiday proportions. Or, was. With two boys going into their Senior year, and my taller-than-me "baby" in eighth grade, our supply lists have diminished to little more than a few composition books and fancy gel pens

My Stella-bella had a bad day yesterday. Her nose was warm and dry, her belly swollen, her walk--when she walked--a bit unstable. All of those would have been symptoms enough to let us know that she was sick, but I didn't feel really worried until one other symptom popped up.
She wouldn't leave my side. Or my feet. Or the room.
Stella, you see, is not a clingy dog. She likes to be tucked into

Let me tell you about a beautiful, private, inspiring moment at the 2012 Christy Awards--something that no blog-follower, no attendee, no photographer could have posibly captured. As many of you know, the beginning of the evening consists of each nominee walking across the stage to receive a finalist's medal--this wonderfully heavy ornament suspended from a thick, royal purple ribbon--while