Janice MacLeod's Blog, page 5

The Paris books are only three bucks today

I admit, I get both a little excited and a little cringey when posting blatantly promo posts. I want to talk and tell you a story about something fantastic, then end with, oh by the way, the books are under three bucks today. Here’s the link.

But marketing and algorithms have other ideas.

And we don’t have time. It’s TODAY ONLY, hence the need big loud promo starbursts and BUY NOW buttons. I get it. As an email opener myself, the person emailing me has about one second of my attention before I move onto the next email. So, cringe as I do, I still need you to know that for today only, Kindle ebook versions of Paris Letters and Dear Paris are only $2.99 USD. 

I get so excited when my publishers email me with this information.

Even though I’ll only get about fifty cents in royalties per copy today. Harsh but true. Why I like the promo, besides saving you some cash which is nice these days when everything is pricey. These promos triggers the algorithm to place my books higher in search results for the next few months. This helps even more than the fifty cents I’ll get if you purchase one of my books today.

It is a little sad that writing has become CONTENT and playing the ALGORITHM.

Algorithm is such a yucky word. Like phlegm or whom.

I think this is another reason playing with my typewriters has been a joy for me. I’ve been able to write as a writer writes and not to trick the algorithm to trend my titles.

However, today is the only day the algorithm might be helpful. So even if you don’t want the books, or because you have them already (thank you) or if you prefer the print versions (which are not on sale), clicking the link is helpful. It’s free and it’s helpful. While you’re there, feel free to click on the other books just to tickle the algorithm.

Also because of a secret life I’ve been living this year.

I’ve been creating books on Amazon. Loads of books. Loads of books that are easy to make and buy and use. Workbooks and planners and such. I haven’t told you about it. I want to tell you about it once I’ve cracked the code so you can do it, too, if you are so compelled. These titles are under various noms de plum because enough with the fame already. I’m trying to figure out how to win at the Amazon algorithm, and I’d rather do it silently, without the big JANICE MACLEOD banner all over everything. Plus, I’ve been failing here and there and it’s always nice to fail silently. 

This is the art of testing.

When I was in advertising, we tested everything. We would put out two ads with slight differences. One would win. The next round, we would run that ad and test it against a new ad. One would win. And so on.

We tested everything.

The world is like a giant testing lab for an ad agency.

I bet you didn’t realize any of it when you sifted through your mail. But there it is. A society of guinea pigs, all of us, all the time, without even realizing it.

It felt like gamifying the job. Which ad will win this month? Which ad will win next month? Sometimes it was sad. We would test different ethnicities in photos and most of the time the ads with the white people would win. Then the next month, it was white vs white. And that is a sad truth. I hope the world gets better and sticks to their guns a little more with respect to change and kindness and skin tones.

Last week I ran a test with you. Did you know? Ew! Yes. I asked if you would prefer to read the whole post in an email or with a READ THE POST button to take you to the post. Most of you want to click through to the post. I prefer to read the whole post in the email, but hey, I’m clearly a bit old school… letters in the mail… typewriters for heaven sake! Getting with the times is a bit off brand for me.

However, the algorithm must be petted gently from time to time, so if you feel compelled to click through to the books Amazon, it might be good. I’m not sure yet. Testing, testing… is this thing on?

What compels makers to make one thing over another?

This picture almost makes me want to take up knitting. And yet…

I would love to WANT to get myself all up in some soft yarny-type knitting situation, but it’s just NOT ME.

My sister…. hell yesssssss. She is ALL ABOUT ALL OF IT.

I appreciate it. I wonder about it. I think it’s magical. But I don’t have enough wonder about it to do anything more than ask for knitting projects.

However, taking a picture of knitting and making stationery out of it… now that is MY JAM.

Oh yeah baby. Now we are experiencing some AUTUMNAL SPLENDOUR.

I’ve been popping these in the orders from my shop. Just a few freebies to go with the letters people have been ordering because it’s fun and I already cut them out. Plus I have a bit of an envelope situation in my office. The pile just never seems to go down.

Why yes, that is a dahlia from my garden… still blooming even though it’s November already. Is it global warming? Is it the mushroom compost? Is it the warm south wall the plant is growing against? Who knows but I am SUPER FINE with dahlias and pumpkins butting up against each other.

What makes a person want to do the knitting and another person want to make a note card of the photo of the kitting? 

For me, it is the image in my head that I have to get out of my head. The only way out is to go through the process of making the thing the only way I know how. So last week, instead of forging ahead with the enterprise of making a new course, making new things for the shop, making the needle move, I just made myself some pretty cards.

It coincided with a bad cold that has been going around…. This three-week lingering sniffle cough achy head business. Today was one of those days that I climbed back into the pjs after my morning shower. It made me so happy in my sniffly misery.

For more info on any of this:

Shop: Letters, aprons, art
Courses: Writing and organizing papers
Books: NEW 2023 Paris Planner, plus the usual Paris-themed goodness

Typewriter Letters: My favourite mistake

I’ll be ending the Typewriter Letter series at the end of 2022… with a few for a few hangers on moving into January 2023. A mere twelve-ish letters to go to my solid, loyal, little list of subscribers. Click here if you want them. It really is now or never. 

Recap: I have been sending a lightly illustrated letter from the helm of one of my …. agrhm… 12 typewriters for the last year and a bit. What a delightful good time! Clickity-clack, stamp stamp, giggle giggle.

However, it seems people really don’t care about typewriters. I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I’m kind of surprised.

Except… the few remaining typewriter repair shops have been seeing a resurgence of business. Watch this lovely 8 minute documentary:

Just look at these beautiful eyes.

They’ve been gazing inside the depths of typewriters for decades. Bet there were a lot of dead spiders in there.

Most of my typewriters had pencil shavings in them. Not surprising. Imagine the author reading over what she wrote while at the same time sharpening a pencil hovering above the keys. I found blood once. Not sure if it was related to the sharpening of a pencil…. or murder.

Oh Angela.

Seems my writerly self can’t write ALL THE THINGS. Something had to give. Since not many people have subscribed to the letters anyway… sigh… it was the logical choice.

It parallels the end of typewriters themselves.

Letters to emails… typewriters to computers… dial-up to fiber networks… cable to streaming… Mika to Harry Styles…

Sad, and yet… shoulder shrug. Can’t change change. 

I’ll still be typing… I’ll just be typing letters to friends, morning pages, poems, and fun stuff. Never a book. There is no way. Just so you know I haven’t completely regressed.

If you want in on the last dirty dozen, subscribe at the shop.

The Dirty Dozen refers to twelve of the most common human error preconditions, or conditions that can act as precursors, to accidents or incidents. These twelve elements influence people to make mistakes. Source: SKYbrary Aviation Safety

Typewriter Letters. Best mistake EVER.

 

If you’re still reading, here’s one of the letters:

Dear Reader,

Went to the fair. It is a whole different ballgame with a kid. You go through the poultry pavilion and show great enthusiasm while your kid holds her nose and says it stinks and let’s get out of here FAST.

Then you go on a kiddy ride. She is very enthusiastic in line, then white with terror as we spin around on the pink dragon. At the games zone, every kid is a winner. What the kid wins is based on what you are willing to spend. Ten bucks won us a stuffed chipmunk holding a nut. We call her Nutella. She is a girl… so Miss Nut Ella.

Acquired all the usual food items: cotton candy, fudge, caramel apple. Then we were blessed with rain, which meant no tears on the way to the car. Winning parent moment thanks to the weather.

Christophe cannot fake boredom. He is incapable of more than FINE… FINE JUST FINE face, while I am over compensating over farm animals… LOOK AT THE BUNNIESSSSSS… AMAZING!!!!!!!

Any other day of the week I wage war against bunnies in my garden, but caged up I am willing to pretend to admire them.

Writing to you on a Smith Corona Classic 12. The platen is extra wide for addressing big envelopes I suppose. This one arrived after my mom went to an antique barn. It sticks here and there, but otherwise decent, like a well-worn clutch. I have yet to un-stickify the keys with spritzes of cleaning products and scrubs with old toothbrushes. Hardly a pro clean, but hey, neither is my house. You make do with what you have. This machine comes with a QWERTZ keyboard instead of the usual QWERTY keyboard so there is always a mental leap when typing a Y or Z as thez… THEY switched places. Also includes some nifty accents and symbols so I am all set in any language… onlz… only a little trouble with English.

Back to the fair. When I was a kid, the fair was HUGE. A giant casino of bells, whistles, and fries. Now, I am amazed at how they put it together. It’s just a parking lot, and yet for a week each year it is the land of hopes and dreams. An oasis of ribbons and prize money. It is the sun and moon and stars. A glimmering galaxy of goodies. How does it happen? I suppose with a mix of lighting, layout, and a herd of over enthusiastic mommies to keep the illusion alive.

Janice

 

 

Top 3 courses for fall… the perfect trifecta of upgrades for self

Now that most of the physical healing of my surgery and Lyme disease is behind me, I’m noticing EMOTIONAL TURMOIL bubbling up.

They tell me this is normal. 

When one is surgically opened up from side to side, when one has a parasitic virus roaming about in there, chances are s**t’s gonna get real.

Not to mention the brain fog. 

To pull myself out of the funk, I’m getting schooly. Rather than teaching writing courses this autumn, I’m taking a few courses to heal emotions, upping my business skills, and relieving my anxiety. A tall order. But doable since it’s easier to be in a class than create the class.

The perfect trifecta of courses: #1 Heal emotions with Erin Kurt

I’ve worked with Erin before. I know, I know… you think I have it all together. Heck no. I feel a little messed up these days after my crappy summer and I’m hoping to sort some of that mess out. She has a live round of her course starting on Monday October 10, 2022. It’s more intense than the regular course because you’re getting the personal coaching. This is all about upgrading your life physically, emotionally & spiritually. Solid score.

Basically, let’s release all the junk now so we can start 2023 as bright and shiny new versions of ourselves. I feel SO CLOSE to ME again, but stuff is bubbling and brewing beneath the surface. Example… a friend asked what the sequel to “Paris Letters” would be and I said “Angry in the Kitchen.” Soooooo I have to sort things out. Erin hasn’t offered the live round of her course for over a year. Starting on Monday we can all be on our way to looking, feeling, and living an upgraded life.

She has some free meditations and videos on her website if you want to get a feel for all she offers. Details on the course here.

Fascinating coincidence: We lived a 5 minute walk from each other in Calgary. I didn’t know her back then. She lives in another country now and I am in another part of Canada. We met in a Leonie Dawson class. Speaking of… the next course…

#2 Upping business skills with Leonie Dawson

I wish I could give this course to every parent on the playground who is searching for a way to make extra money from home. So many moms wonder how to even START. Back in 2010 or 2011 ish… something like that… a friend guided me toward Leonie Dawson. Every bit of my business is powered by Leonie wisdom and practical skills. Every course she offers is about $99. She offers a few a year. Now she’s offering all her courses (past, present, and future) for $99 a year. It’s kind of amazing. Please, even if you don’t need this course, steer a mom who wants to make more money from home toward Leonie’s courses. Pah-lease! Send them this link. 

#3 Calligraphy tracing to relieve anxiety

This isn’t actually a course, it’s a series of Calligraphy books. I am learning that adult colouring books bug me. They are all so BUSY and FRANTIC and IRRITATING. Opposite of what they actually say they will do. But Calligraphy… tracing fancy letters with a pen… seems to do the job of relieving anxiety splendidly. The books below is a series with loads with letter tracing. I’d much rather be a good letter writer anyway. See what I did there?

 

So that’s it. Fixing it all with courses.

I’ll be practically glowing by 2023. Take the courses with me and we will glow in unison, or at least we can email back and forth about progress. It’s always nice to have someone to take these rides together.

Brain fog, being a few apples short of a basket, and the Paris planner

I’m a few apples short of a basket these days.

This morning I made it to the end of one of my writing journals. It took all summer. Now I have a book full of half baked ideas and hazy thoughts. Beaucoup de Brain Fog.

Brain fog is one of those terms people toss around a lot these days. It is almost a fad thanks to Covid long haulers and this article from The Atlantic.

Absent-mindedness is different from brain fog. That just means you have a lot on your mind. 

Searching for words when your brain has been learning something new is different from brain fog. That just means your brain is tired. Go ahead and try to speak English well after taking an intense French class. Not good. Pas bon.

Brain fog is “a disorder of executive function that makes basic cognitive tasks absurdly hard.” That’s from The Atlantic article

Brain fog also happens after you’ve been under for a long time during surgery. So I know a thing or two about brain fog, except I can’t quite remember what those things might be. The good news is that mine should be temporary and technically over soonish.

A few fun and irritating signs of brain fog:

Someone says something and, though I heard them, I didn’t understand what they said. As in, it sounded like a different language. *sometimes with Christophe it IS a different language*I’m telling a story and not just forgetting the point of the story, but forgetting the story mid-sentence. AKA “So yeah…” which is how the story ends prematurely. For a professional writer, this might be the most irritating of all.Needing quiet. More than usual for this introverted soul.Conversations are exhausting. Can’t follow along. “I’m sorry… what?”Short-term memory is weak so important details must be written down in agonizing detail. I remember writing it, I just don’t remember what I wrote and I have to reference it constantly.Long-term memory is fine so I know how to drive but I forget what I was there to buy.Routines are fine. Routines live in long-term memory so school pickups are always remembered but putting a load of laundry in the washing machine is forgotten. “Did I do that?”Details of conversations are lost. In some cases, depending on the person, this is a blessing.Relying on visuals becomes important… If I make stew, I can SEE that the carrots haven’t been added yet, but with baking… Did I put the baking soda in already?Best not to leave the kitchen when something is on the stove.Weirdness.

Though I can now bend and stretch and lift and go for walks after my surgery (and I won’t get lost on the walk because that lives in long-term memory), my brain is somewhat on hiatus. Yesterday I was home alone and took a shower with the garage door wide open and front door unlocked. Thankfully it was only my mom that walked in. “The garage is OPEN! You were in THE SHOWER?!”

Fear not, my typewriter cases were not stolen out of my garage. Laughable still there, towering above garden detritus.

So I’m a few apples short of a basket these days.

Reading through my writing journal of summer is fascinating. “I wrote this?” As you’ll learn from my Organizing Content course, it can be great fun going through your journal writing to mine for gems… even more when you have no recollection of writing any of it in the first place. Much of my half baked ideas are about workbooks and planners I want to make.

Speaking of, this one is up and out in the world:

It is a 2023 planner full of 12 Paris street scenes, one for each month. Softcover and hardcover. Both luxurious in their own way.

Plus, nice big squares because… basically I like a big squared calendar. “Be the change” and all that.

And SPACE to write all the things one week that I’ll likely forget the next:

I know… hope… doctor says… I should have my brain back to optimal strength soon… hence the three month recovery period.

No biggie. This past summer was definitely a one star review. I plan on making up for it inside the pages of my five star 2023 planner. YEAH! You should, too. Feel free to buy it for all your francophile friends and the french person you know you are deep in your soul.

In the meantime, I’ll be… stares off in middle distance I forget, but it will come back to me.

Oh September, you woodsy month of delight

If I could sniff you, September, you would smell like freshly sharpened pencils.

Dropped Miss Mini Me off to school this morning. Neither of us slept well in the night. Anxious about ALL THE THINGS but knowing it would all be okay, which it was… at least at 8:30 this morning. Then I came home and didn’t know if I should do all the things or none of the things.

I decided to change my desktop photo. Hardly screams accomplishment.

The healing of the torso is going well. There was a “sticky” moment when I had a few infected stitches, but I pulled them out MYSELF like I was Claire on Outlander.

Thank goodness for severed nerves. Numbness helps when one is standing at the mirror with a pair of disinfected eyebrow tweezers and eyes full of panic.

No one wants to unravel like a sweater.

The gracious GoFundMe campaign has actually been doing what it was meant to do: Calm me down so I stop trying to plow through and heal what needs to heal. The people in my life who have shown up during this time astound me by their generous spirit. Thank you thank you thank you. There were a slew of Anonymous donations, so thank you Anonymous, whoever you are.

I still get weepy.

Emotions are weaved into our muscle memory. My body is still flummoxed. My back likes to announce with bellowing aches when it is time to lay down. Then I lay down and feel better.

It’s a process.

During this time I have been on light duties, work wise. I have been cleaning my office… it’s a paper situation. Where do I file this paper? That paper? These papers? Why did I buy so many books at the library book sale?!?!

Many hopeful projects. Some of which I have mercifully released to the Donation box.

During this time, I also whipped this up: A 2023 dated planner.

I whipped it up because someone who bought my undated planner gave me a few excellent notes:

She wanted Paris art inside, in full technicolor dreamy hues. Done!

She wanted to dream of Paris all year long. And she wanted full colour interiors.

I get it.

These Paris street scenes are the golden oldies from my Paris books.

I wanted DATES and BIG squares and LARGE areas to write a whole year’s worth of remarkable plans that don’t involve recovering from surgery or Lyme disease.

Just look at those squares. I’m going to take my freshly sharpened pencils and jot down all kinds of big plans.

Two-page weekly spreads for ample evil planning.

I know it’s not quite yet 2023. This is very far away, but September makes us all want to buy art supplies. Right? I can’t be the only one.

I vacillate between artfully arranging my art supplies, wanting more art supplies, and Christmas shopping. Clearly, 2022 hasn’t been my year and I will be very happy to close my 2022 planner and move on to the 2023 planner. Planners gonna plan. YEAH!

If you want a 2023 Paris Planner, they are over at Amazon. Softcover and hardcover. Both luxurious in their own way.

Love letters, Go Fund Me and the art of asking

Much has happened since my last post.

It started with flowers from Barbara who is one of my Typewriter Letters subscribers. Then came a few emails about how to help during my recovery period after surgery. One person sent Door Dash. Amazing! Another sent an Amazon gift card. Amazing! Another asked “How can I pay for someone to clean your house?”

There was a lot of fielding of messages and very little brain capability to do so.

Sarah suggested a Go Fund Me campaign to make it easier for friends who live far away to help. They can’t exactly ship me a meatloaf, but they can send cash so I can order a local meatloaf and have it delivered.

It was uncomfortable feeling surrendered.

She created the Go Fund Me campaign while I sat in my house with this monologue in my head:

I don’t know how to do this, to sit with this, to ask.

So I consulted Amanda Palmer:

I remember learning about The Art of Asking and feeling cringey about the idea of asking for anything from anyone. The language of love I understood was to stay out of the way and don’t ask for much.

When I met Christophe and he had asked me to pick up a few things at the grocery story, I questioned the validity of our entire relationship.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t burden me with the task of picking up mustard and tea at the friggin’ Fran Prix! (French grocery store)

Even now, the worst thing he can ask of me is to go to the friggin’ No Frills. (Canadian grocery store)

So to admit wanting help feels like I’m telling people that I don’t love them enough to keep my head down and figure it all out quietly on my own. That is the opposite of the truth. I love my people. My people are THE BEST.

The truth is also this: In this astounding weakness after surgery, I want the help, I don’t want to admit it, I’m glad for it, and I need it. And it’s an eternal three months of recovery ahead without working.

The Go Fund Me has provided RELIEF.

Relief is an overlooked emotion, but holy goodness gracious, relief feels good. It feels like giving the the heavy lift I can’t lift myself with these dinosaur arms.

As a person making a living from creating, this is the usual exchange:

I make a thing. Someone gives me money for the thing.

So it was tough to get my head around what I thought the Go Fund Me thing would be:

I don’t make a thing. Someone gives me money anyway.

But I was wrong. It was about opening a door to let people help if they wanted to help. 

And to provide a safe website where they could easily donate without having to field me with questions… amazing.

As I saw donations come in, I felt overwhelming gratitude. More than I knew what to do with. My large circle of friends, fans, colleagues, and all-of-the-aboves were like light bulbs of love flickering on all over the world. All these bulbs of loving light made my own bulb of love grow. It started to feel fun instead of hard…

Like we all decided to rekindle our love for each other.

Then, in a surprising twist, my five year old picked up her toys. She puttered around and put all the toys away that I couldn’t bend over to reach on my own. I was even too tired to ask (and ask again) for her to do it. She just did it on her own.

Then she took flowers from the garden and put them in a vase by my bed. 

And I fell asleep feeling very taken care of.

Thank you.

Janice

PS If you want to help, here is the Go Fund Me page.

Lyme + Surgery = Not exactly a summer to remember

This is not me. This is a woman wading through the dangers of the wild.

You’ve seen a million images of ladies in dresses frolicking through a meadow feeling enlightened or happy or introspective.

All I think is, “Lady, you better have some bug spray on those legs.”

Turns out my feverish delirium of June was Lyme disease.

I knew I shouldn’t have moved that canoe out from the cedar hedge in a dress. Or pulled those weeds… in a dress. Or planted, harvested, walked though my garden… in a dress. Because a Lyme tick got all up in my business and gave me a hickey on my upper thigh. Then it gave me a slew of symptoms:

Fever, welts, body aches, and even a leg that would give out at random moments. Lyme is no joke. 

Because life is full of fun timing, it followed with my reconstruction surgery after my big bout of breast cancer.

I don’t need you imagining my “chestal area.”

I’ll give you a picture instead:

In short, they took my lovely paunch between my belly button and bikini line, configured a couple breasts out of it and sewed them on top. They rerouted the inner plumbing to make it all work. Since they removed my belly button in the process, they made me a new and improved belly button.

I won’t always look like Frankenstein.

In fact, already my body looks NORMAL again… even with the stitches. I will NEVER, EVER, EVER complain about my body again. It works and it is no longer deformed. That’s the bar. 

Living without your boobs blows.

It’s nice to have a reasonable facsimile in their place.

When I was explaining the procedure to a relative in Poland, he remarked how different our cultures were, that they would NEVER talk about such things.

As a memoirist, this is astounding, but as a woman, I think it’s also dangerous.

We have to share things so we can help the next person who goes through something similar.

This blog post helped me prepare for my DIEP breast reconstruction. 

Someone you know will have to deal with this at some point. Sharing information helps us figure out the unfathomable during a time when we can’t think straight.

When you know someone who is dealing with some health stuff, give them groceries and offer rides to the hospital. Do not say, “You got this” to be encouraging. They don’t got this. They need help. I certainly need help. I can’t even bend over.

Just imagine the detritus of a summer vacation at home with a 5 year old and I can’t bend over. 

The weeds have taken over in the garden. The toys are ruling the roost. I’ve got a 3 month recovery on the roster where I can’t work. However, I have managed to sit in my chair for the entirety of this blog post, but soon I must lay down.

The body won’t let you force yourself toward healing.

If I am not horizontal, my back aches and I start to get nauseous. So there is a lot of cartoons. We set up the comfy chair next to the couch so Amélie and I can sit together and watch TV.

I can’t even handle much more than a cartoon. My nerves are frazzled by the hospital experience where I could only eat ice chips, couldn’t pull myself out of bed, and listened to the unique symphony of sounds only a hospital can provide.

In summary, help where you can, share your knowledge, and wear bug spray.

How a fever can cure you of your ridiculousness

It started off as either a bug bite or an infected hair follicle.

Blood work hasn’t come back yet so no need to scroll to the bottom for a big reveal.

Even I don’t know what happened. All I know is I had an angry welt on my leg followed by a fever.

Self medicating ensued. A week of so much Tylenol, winter hats, wet sweaty clothes, and back again. Each day I thought would be the final day. It was just a fever.

HA!

The welts spread to an all-body situation. Clearly time to call the doctor. The pharmacist handed me antibiotics and I scarfed back my first one right there and then like I was a junkie in need of a hit.

Took another week for everything to simmer down.

Two weeks of feverish out of control angry welts. Still not sure what that was all about. It has left me creaky and weak. It reminded me of the stages of health I created for myself with the whole cancer fiasco a few years ago.

THE STAGES OF HEALTH

Stage 1: Healthy enough to exercise and then going to exercise

Stage 2: Healthy enough to exercise but not exercising and feeling guilty about it.

Stage 3: Not feeling healthy enough to exercise and not feeling guilty about it.

Stage 4: Exercise isn’t even an option. Just trying to stay awake.

I made it to Stage 4 during the chemo and radiation of treatments, then crawled myself back to Stage 1, which took A YEAR.

This fever brought me BACK to Stage 3. A two week fever over probably something as trivial as an infected hair follicle?!?!!??!

Life is tender business. It really is true when they say if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.

The fever presented me with a few gifts.

Gift 1: Stopped self loathing. Stopped the simmering irritation of not having the bod of a teenager. Somewhere in my brain, links formed in my teenage years about body image have been fused/knotted/stuck together really tight. The fever, I hope, burned some of that out of my brain. A fever-induced lobotomy. Because now I look in the mirror and think “No fever… standing up… amazing human.”

Gift 2: Book reading. When I am ill, my creativity goes silent. The other day was International Typewriter Day and I didn’t even blog about it. That is how sick I was. I didn’t even type on my typewriter. I just read books. Here’s what I read:

I haven’t read a Danielle Steel book since my early teens. I had forgotten how much the reader is spoon fed all the details. No need to put two and two together or to find out what happens next. She will tell you. Over and over again. It’s almost like mansplaining.

People go crazy for this book. I thought it was ridiculous. It was written by a man who clearly has no concept of social obligation or energy management. I would like this book to be written by a tired mommy. The fact that he was so dismissive of half the population and focused on his myopic view that everyone has all day to do anything and all the energy to do it INFURIATED me. Then I had to calm down because I didn’t want my temperature to rise. James Clear can bite me. But if he does, he could get welts.

Between life and death there is a library. That’s how this book starts and it is a beautiful masterpiece of wonderful. I liked everything about this book, from concept to execution. Reading it could actually change your life with way Life of Pi can change your life… really. Worth it!

Aw, look at that. I just used an exclamation mark. I’m clearly on the mend.

Before all this happened, I listed a 12-month subscription of the best of the best Paris Letters in my shop. One delivered once a month to anyone who could use fun mail. Of course I have been too sick to tell you about it. I created it because many people were buying single letters and asking me to send one per month. So, I whipped up a listing of it.

Subscribe over at the shop. Makes a great gift. As does life after a fever. Speaking of books… a few summer reads to slake your cravings for Paris…

May the 4th be with you… Top 10 Obi-Wan quotes

And also with you.

I just can’t help it.

Neither can you if you spent childhood Sunday mornings counting the stained glass in church… counting the pews… counting the candles… counting the people.

Anyway, May the 4th… Star Wars Day.

There are many holidays in life that make us reflective. Christmas is marinated in memories, birthdays that end in a zero invite pondering, and let us consider the natural nostalgia of Star Wars Day.

Where were you when you first discovered Star Wars?

It started on Student Appreciation Day in my elementary school. We watched it in the gym on floor mats, then were given rocket popsicles. Solid hand clap for the teachers to added a thematic snack.

 I always thought of them as rockets, but they could be lightsabers.

After Return of the Jedi came out, I was so very bummed. There were no films on the horizon. Just a lot of unanswered questions. But how does it all turn out?

Then Hollywood started investing in established franchises and “sure bets.”

Prequels while we wait for the original cast to age. 

I went to the midnight opening of the Star Wars prequels. Now that I’m a mom of a little kid, I look toward Disney+ for my Star Wars fix. Star Wars in pajama pants. Plus, I’m already up at midnight with a kid squished against me and an elbow in the face. Not all night, just long enough to bed hop a few times.

On one May the 4th, I was sitting at a train station with the lovely Aine. There was a comic book conference nearby. Everyone was dressed up. I thought, yep, this is how it would actually be in Star Wars. All these creatures showing up at a train station from other galaxies on their way to other galaxies. We were the earthlings.. as weird to them as they to us.

It is nice to know how it all turned out with Star Wars. It’s satisfying to know who lived and who died in the film and in real life. As weird as that sounds. It’s like living IN THE FUTURE right NOW. There are even a few people I couldn’t speak to until after they watched because… because I couldn’t be the one to tell them… what happened.

I even had a carpool buddy who wouldn’t carpool with me unless I caught up. 

He just couldn’t NOT talk about it. That’s what Star Wars does to us.

AND… amazingly… because life is so incredible… Ewan McGregor’s books sit next to my books at the bookstore. Best. Part. Ever. There are times when you think “OMG I have a book in a bookstore!!!” Then you stop and say “OMG I have a book in a bookstore NEXT TO Ewan McGregor’s books!!!!”

But not at Shakespeare and Company. I’m not in the travel section with Ewan. I’m in the Paris section with the other Paris books. Fair enough.

Shakespeare and Company, the first time I saw Paris Letters on a shelf.

To celebrate May the 4th, my Top 10 Obi-Wan Kenobi quotes.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi: So that’s your plan: Just fly there, land, hope they don’t spot us, and walk in the door?

Anakin Skywalker: Basically.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Oh, brilliant. Let’s get going.”

“You can’t win, Vader. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”“Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”“Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you.”“Why do I get the feeling that you  are going to be the death of me?”The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.“Why do I get the feeling that we’ve picked up another pathetic life form?”“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”“Skill is the child of patience.”
and of course…The Force will be with you … always.