hwig-muh-LEER-ee, wig-


1: a whim; notion.

2: a whimsical or fanciful ornament or contrivance; gimmick.

Friday was my one year Idahome anniversary. It was also the Lit Walk the library puts on, full of local authors and wine and cheese and a tour of downtown with activities and book readings.

Cheryl, the owner of Chapter One Bookstore, saw me in line at the post office, mentioned the Lit Walk and, maybe on a whigmaleerie, said, “And you’re a featured author!”

I laughed. She said, “I’m serious. Order more books.” She was next in line and walked away to send her mail.

I got back to my cabin, sat in the rocking chair, and smiled thinking about being a “featured author” at the Lit Walk to celebrate my year anniversary. So I ordered more books which arrived with one day to spare.


I served others wine because serving is my career these days. I handed off a Chardonnay and met a fellow author who was completely lovely and quite hilarious. Conversation with her was the highlight of my evening. She spent fifteen years writing about the death of her ten-year-old son.

“Beth, you’re up,” Cheryl said. I was the first one to read. I took a sip of wine.

My new author friend put my hand on her arm and said, “Just look at me if you get nervous!”

I didn’t look up at all and I read about a quarter of what I intended to read because I felt like I was going on and on. I felt a bit silly for having such a light-hearted book among several serious tomes. But I think it went well. What a memorable experience! Eight books have sold and even though Cheryl might’ve asked me on a whigmaleerie, I’m really glad she did.

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