Sneak preview of upcoming novel.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
espresso nervesIf y'all knew how nervous and obsessive I can get over certain things, you'd probably get annoyed with me and stop reading this blog.
For instance, I live in the shadow of a fear of having my carry-on rejected at the airport. That's happened to me once in my life -- the same raggedy, navy blue Perry Ellis pilot case I've been hauling around since I was born was suddenly deemed too big by someone at Houston Intercontinental (a.k.a. Daddy Bush Airport). And it upset me so badly I almost cried. See, I go through a lot of trouble to pack everything in that one case -- even if it's for a year-long trip -- and I do that because I'm convinced that if/when I ever check a bag, it's destined to be lost.
You know?
And, apparently, losing my painstakingly selected clothing and toilettries is the stuff of nightmares for me. Never mind that those things can be found in any city I might visit -- I can't even hang with the thought. My friend Ashley pointed out the other day that I keep tight control over my image, and having my image under the control of others bothers me. That's not the most flattering trait, but I'll readily own up to it. She said this because
[tangent!]
because I was reliving the annoyance I felt when, more than a year ago, some person had the nerve to tell me that I shouldn't wear makeup. That I didn't need it. But more than that, this person seemed to be saying that it bothered her that I wore it, because of whatever "feminist" (more likely classist) issue she was struggling with.
And I was like, "Who does that? Who tells people what to wear or how to look? Who has that kind of nerve?"
Besides men, I mean.
Just kidding!
I'm just saying. I have these issues. I think y'all know that. I think y'all might have gathered that after 10+ years of reading this site...
back on topic
The other day, someone tweeted on Twitter that an airline had misplaced her bag. And then she was listing some of the things she was having to do without. And, dudes, I nearly had a panic attack on her behalf. She was very calm and pressurized grace, though. Jackie! I was so worried for you, Jackie! I hope you're okay!
coming down now
Really, I think I just get nervous over stuff when I'm about to have a reading. I had a reading this morning, and it went well, despite or because of my background obsession with my carry-on bag and the potential rejection of it.
People were like, "Oh, hi. How did you get the idea to write this book?"
And I was like, "After this I have to go to T.J. Maxx and buy a smaller pilot case."
And they were like, "Uh... Can you just sign my book, then?"
I got to read to a bunch of kids and they were pretty awesome. Some of them made the funniest comments when the bookstore owner read to them. (She's reading Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog, and one of the characters in it says, "Have you ever tasted a hot dog?" and this 3.5-year-old kid calls out, "I ate one last night!" all matter-of-fact.) And then, of course, I got to sign books for some older kids, and they cracked me up, too. This one little boy holds my book open to the back page, where there's a photo of me and one of the illustrator, and he goes, "Is one of these supposed to be you? You don't look like them."
So I told him I'd give him a dollar if he went to a Jonathan Franzen reading and said the same thing.
Kidding.
And now the reading's over, and I got something blood-sugar-restoring to eat, and typing this to you guys has made me feel better. Now I can be calm.
Until I get to the airport in a few hours, and find out that they won't accept my carry-on, I mean. Or until tomorrow's readings. Or until the ones on the day after that.
I always tell people that doing readings is easy for me -- that it doesn't make me nervous at all. But I'm starting to suspect that I've been lying all along. :)
raspberry ants
I don't have any. Yet? Everyone's talking about them today, and someone at the book store said they were all over her house. But I haven't seen them. They sound kind of awesome, if you read that article. Not that I want them around... But y'all know I have a soft spot for ants, and also for crazy people, and these Crazy Raspberry Ants sound like three great tastes that taste great together, don't they?
(Knocking on wood now.) 1:46 PM # (4) comments
Monday, May 12, 2008
Explain to meHow does this person named Six_of_Cups have one of my books for sale, when my book isn't out until May 31?
This reminds me of the last time I had a book out on Amazon, and someone was selling a signed copy that I don't remember signing.
Oh, well. This is capitalism, I guess.
flying; my pants' seat
I have several projects due pretty soon at work, and there are still parts of our project-turning-out process that I don't know how to do. Learning: Too bad it doesn't seem to burn calories.
Also, I'm going to fly to Dallas in a few days, and I don't have my plane tickets yet. And I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there. And I don't know what to wear. And I don't know what I'm allowed to take in my luggage.
And I'm too tired to look it all up. I'll look it all up tomorrow.
high school reunions
I've recently come into contact with two people I haven't seen since we went to Reagan High School together.
One seemed happy. The other didn't.
happy Mothers' Day
We celebrated the birthday of one of my kids, belatedly, instead. I kind of felt bad, for a fleeting instant, that I didn't have anyone to buy a nice gift for.
I mean, I could have bought something for my mom, but she doesn't like anything nice. She only would've been happy with:
a) a carton of cigarettes and some lottery tickets, or
b) a bunch of magazine pictures scribbled with a leaky pen and rolled up in aluminum foil, or
c) like, a black nylon coat from the Goodwill that smells like smoke or something.
Which is fine, except that I didn't feel like shopping for any of that stuff.
(To those of you who are new to this site: My mom has been schizophrenic since I was very young and I'm so calloused and jaded about it that I can make flippant comments about the uncouthness of her illness once a year or so. Apparently.)
If my Aunt Sylvia were still alive, I could have bought her anything sentimental and she would've been happy. I could have bought her, say, a white ceramic bear with a lacy plastic heart glued to his chest with the words "Luv U Mom!" and a fake carnation emerging from the back of his head. And she would've been pleased.
But I would've bought her something nicer than that.
Instead, I helped pick out flowers for my boyfriend's mom. I really enjoy shopping for flowers. I said, "How about candy to go with the flowers? She doesn't like candy? How about shower gel? No?" Afterwards, my boyfriend offered to buy me flowers, too. But I declined. Because I wanted to pick my own flowers, and no one had anything I wanted. Seriously -- the flower selection was rank this year. Prematurely wilted.
I told him I'd buy myself flowers next week, when everything's replenished. Instead, I bought myself a pedicure, on Friday. "This," I told myself, "is my Mothers' Day gift."
I mean, I would've gotten a pedicure either way. But still.
I might be secretly upset about some of this, on some level, and that's why I'm typing so much about it. If so, that's okay.
And it's okay if you don't like Matt Damon, because I like him enough for the both of us.
My kids and I had a Jason Bourne Film Festival yesterday and today. I love the hell out of those movies. Even though I hated the book, The Bourne Identity, when I read it was back in the day.
Everything is better with a little Matt Damon, though. I've always liked him. Also, did you all know that Clive Owen was in the first movie? And Eomer, from Lord of the Rings, was in the second? (That's who my son said it was. I could check IMDb right now to be sure, but I don't feel like it.)
video game news
They're coming out with another World of Warcraft expansion that takes you to Level 80, and my lazy night elf character, Xora, is still only Level 35. Khan.
We opened up a lot of new songs on Rock Band, but my voice is still sore, so I bought some new clothes for my character, Xora Jane. I cut her hair short and dyed it green. My kids said, "What happened to your hair?" Kind of like they said about my real hair, now that it's short and dyed red.
But, you know. These things happen.
We got this game called Assasin's Creed that everybody keeps telling us to get. I had a long conversation with the game store clerks, during which they each explained to me, separately, that it was about the Crusades. ("What do they call that? That religious thing?") So now I'm excited, even though I can't play console games worth a crap because my fingers haven't ever adapted to the boomerang-shaped controllers. The Game Stop guy said I should totally sit on the couch and watch my kids play, though, just to see the story unfold.
I think my kids paid him to tell me that, actually. That's their fantasy -- that I get rich and quit my job and buy them more video games and then sit there, watching them play.
okay
Stream of consciousness writing time over! It's time for bed!
Goodnight. 10:22 PM # (7) comments
