Random Sunday: The Not Dead Yet Edition

The "not dead yet" is me, not Lyle, although Lyle's still going strong, too. The partially dead is because, through a terrible convergence of internet failure and travel, I have not had access to Argh for eons. Or to the forums. Or to PopD. Not that anybody missed me. I'll just sit here alone in the dark. I would tell you of my travails, but that would be meeping, so in no particular order, here's some good stuff that happened while I was out.

Lyle, who on the first visit to the vet's when he was diagnosed as terminal weighed 9.9 pounds and was labeled anorexic, is now 14.8 pounds. So the anorexia is over and he's pushing into lardbutt territory. His blood counts are still vile, but they're the best they've ever been. My vet, who is fabulous, just cheers when she sees them even though we all know it's futile and Lyle's doomed. Of course it also means that Lyle's feeling fine and living large and as of this moment has leaped onto one of the giant bean bag chairs which is a good 30″ off the ground and is demanding mush. Lyle's mush and Cheesus's sub q: miracle workers. Also huge thanks to Lani-Lucy and Cheesus for dogsitting for eight days; they were wonderful.

I went to dinner at Maialino in NYC with my editor, mass market publisher, and the head of marketing. Or as you know them, Jen, Matthew, and Anne Marie (yes, of Frenching-Anne-Marie, although she wisely did not bring copy edits this time). Matthew was the only one who mentioned the three books I have that are past deadline ("Some of our authors turn books in"). I said at one point that I'd always wanted a brownstone in the West Village. Matthew said if I'd turn a book in, they'd buy me one. I said, "Really?" He looked at me with what was either contempt or sorrow, but I'm not getting a brownstone. He is, however, getting a book. Soon. Probably.

I met Krissie in NYC and we roomed together before driving back to Ohio together. I got Alastair the Uncle Fester T-shirt that says "There's One In Every Family." Well, it made us laugh. While I was searching for a picture of that T-shirt using "There's one in every family," I found this:



I believe that's Famine, War, Pestilence, and Death.



I think I must buy it. (Actually, the one I found using "There's one in every family" was "Flopsy, Mopsy, and Conan," but the next one was this one.)

So I'm driving across Ohio with Krissie on the way home, and suddenly I look down and I'm going 98 miles an hour, which freaks me out because it doesn't feel like 98 MPH and then I realize: that's kilometers. I look across at Krissie in the passenger seat and say, "Did you push a button?" "Nooooo," she says, looking the other way. So I make her get out the car manual and find the button she pushed because we can't see it. Except when she finds it, it's right there on dashboard in plain sight. Half an hour later, Agnes, my car, begins speaking Spanish. Never go anywhere with Krissie: she pushes buttons.

Krissie wanted to buy Alastair some underwear (don't ask) so we went to Walmart. I found "Superman, Man of Steel" stretch boxers that she immediately grabbed out of my hand. I'd have gone for The Flash, but it seemed like pushing my luck after the Uncle Fester T-shirt.

Speaking of T-shirts, I loved this one, too:



I typed my master's thesis on an electric typewriter. I remember typewriters. If the MacPlus hadn't come along, I'd never have written novels. My god, remember WITE-OUT? The horror.

Times Square is now officially awful: I got mugged by Muppets. The Disney store has giant Muppets on the street and they want to interact. When I'm on my way to a conference full of tense romance writers, I do not want Elmo in my way. Bring back the hookers, that's what I say.

I got to see a lot of old friends at RWA National which was great. Spent a good two hours with Cathy Maxwell just by accident and we laughed like loons the entire time because Max is the funniest person I know. Felt sick and cancelled my coffee with SEP which is really awful because I never get to see her, but falling asleep with my head in a Danish didn't seem like a good idea, either. Sat and talked with my old grad school pal, Daphne Durham, who is now acquisitions editor for Amazon's new publishing arm. We had a moment when we thought about all those drunken nights in Larry's bar when it seemed clear we'd never amount to anything. I told her they'd closed Larry's and we had another moment. Then I told her Julia Keller had won the Pulitzer. Who knew OSU's English grad department had such potential? Also had coffee (well, water for me) with Michael Hauge whom I hadn't seen for years (I don't get out a lot). We were talking about Hitch (see the PopD post) and I said it was an awful romcom and he got this funny look on his face, and I said, "If I go to the IMDB, will it have you listed as a script doctor?" and he said, "The IMDB doesn't list script doctors," but it turns out he only started consulting with Will Smith after Hitch although he insists it's excellent. We went on to amiably agree on almost nothing, which is okay because I owe him big for everything he taught me the two times I took his class.

And of course I roomed with Krissie which mostly consisted of us lying on the beds and moaning about how tired we were and gossiping about what we'd heard. RWA is exhausting. We did have the brains not to stay in the conference hotel because that place was designed by Satan, although their elevator system is much better now. But that meant walking through Muppets to get to the conference so that was bad, especially since Krissie can't walk that far without great pain. But then she discovered the cinnamon thingies they have next to the register at Duane Reade and all was better.

I'm looking at houses in New Jersey (long story) so I spent two days with a realtor, one on the way to the conference and one, with Krissie, on the way back. Coming up from measuring the downstairs at one house, I heard Krissie say, "Jenny won't care about the water, her water in Ohio tastes like toxic waste." I LIKE the water in Ohio. Jeez. I took Krissie along because the house was in very bad condition and it would need to be totally rehabbed, and her job was to talk me out of it. She dutifully told me all that was wrong with it, and then said, "I love it. Buy it." Then somebody else bought it. But now I am fixated on moving to New Jersey. An hour from my daughter, an hour from NYC, four hours from Gaffney, seven hours from Krissie. And twelve hours from Lani and her family, but they'll come to visit. Assuming I can pull this off. Very exciting.

The SMP cocktail party in their offices at the Flatiron Building was a crush, but I saw a lot of good people there, so it was well worth it. One lovely moment: I ran into Brenda Copeland whom I had not seen in years, and we did the squee thing. I almost said, "You should quit your editing job at [publisher redacted] and come to SMP because the people are fabulous," but that wouldn't have been polite, so I said, "What are you doing at an SMP party?" and she said, "I quit my editing job at [publisher redacted] and now I'm here at SMP and the people are fabulous!" Synchronicity. I also saw Toni McGee Causey who looked gorgeous, and a ton of other people so lots of squeeing.

I went to that party with Mollie in a cab and cabs make Mollie carsick, so she asked for gum and I gave it to her, just like when she was little. Then we got out of the cab and I spit my gum into a tissue and said to her, "Gum," and she leaned forward and spit hers into my hand, just like when she was little. Earlier at a booksigning, she'd asked if I had any candy, and I found a Hershey bar in my purse and gave it to her, and she made the same sounds just like she did when she was little. I loved it. Then we went to the SMP party and she was talking to a PR guy she works with there for several of her clients, and he said, "I saw you come in with Jennifer Crusie; I didn't know you worked with her, too," and Mollie said, "You mean my mom?" He said, "I did not know that," which I really love because it's tough for somebody to establish her own identity in any business when she starts out working for the family, and Mollie's so there already.

Which reminds me, I also got to see Sarah Wendell, Mollie's business partner and, of course, fabulous Smart Bitch, and at one point she came at me with a camera and barked, "Say 'LOVE'" so I yelled, "LOVE!" and she videotaped it. It was only about two seconds, but I worry about what she's going to do with that.

Then we got back to Ohio and I had to go to the blood doctor to put me down a quart (well, 500 ml), and I was driving along the highway that Liz drives down in the opening scene of Lavender's Blue thinking, Wouldn't it be funny if I got picked up for speeding in the same place Liz did? and I got picked up for speeding in the same place Liz does. Sixty-eight in a 55 zone. The nice cop let the little old lady go with a warning, and I promised I'd never do it again, and I meant it because I'm very grateful. Come to think of it, Vince lets Liz go with a warning, too. It's like the universe is saying, "FINISH THAT DAMN BOOK!" Or maybe it's Matthew; he has a lot of power.

I am desperately trying to get rid of all the crap in this house–Krissie coming to visit always helps because she takes back a lot of stuff and we must have ten or twelve Goodwill donation receipts around here by now so I am working on it–so when I saw the purple metal dress form with hooks at the top at Home Goods, I did not buy it. Then after I got stopped for speeding and before I went to my blood-sucking but after my car spoke to me in French (you just cannot trust some people to stay away from buttons), I thought, "I'm under a lot of stress and I need that purple dress form with the hooks" so I stopped on the way and bought it. And then I thought about the scorn and derision I was going to get from Lani and Krissie who have to put up with me meeping about how much crap I have, so at dinner I said, "You know that purple dress form at Home Goods?" and they said, "Yes," and I said, "It's in the back of the car," and waited for the eye-rolls but they both said, "Oh, GOOD." These are the friends to have, folks.

Along the same lines, we hit JoAnn's for fabric and scrapbook stuff. I love fabric but I'm drowning in it so I can't buy more except to cover my couch which is disgusting at the moment, but it's really not that much of a sacrifice because there's not that much fabric I want. Until I go to Spoonflower, where designers enter contests and put up the most scathingly beautiful designs like this one:

Those are bunnies in those waves, folks.

Or this one:



They have lots of fabrics that aren't border prints, but I love border print sundresses, so that's why I'm lusting after those. And if you're feeling helpful, punch that button to vote for them for the Big Breaks thing because their business is a genius idea. Thank you.

Speaking of buying things, I think this is my favorite T-shirt (yes I ordered all three):



You really have to laugh at that, it's such a ridiculous thing to say under any circumstances. How does anybody know who'll be sorry and who won't? And what's wrong with being sorry? You're supposed to make mistakes, that how you learn. Well, that's how I learn. Sometimes it takes several times before I learn, but that's how I learn.

I'd write more but this is already really long and Lyle needs his mush. I didn't mention seeing Susan Scott and Alisa Kwitney, two more wonderful people I would be closer to if I moved to New Jersey, at the Rotrosen party which was fabulous, or lunch with Meg and Mollie which was lovely–ravioli in a light parmesan cream sauce with ham and peas at Trattoria Trecolori (do too many links make me look like I'm namedropping or are they helpful?)–or that the waiter at the fancy restaurant Jen and Matthew took me to who served their wine and then presented me with my bottle of Diet Coke, saying with a straight face, "This is a very good year." I said, "November?" and he cracked up, so my work was done. It was a lovely, lovely time, but now I'm home and I must get to work because if I finish this book, Matthew might give me a brownstone. And if I don't, he's going to make sure I get picked up for speeding every day until I turn it in. And Matthew, if you're reading this, please note that I did not mention your fear of being gunned down in the Hamptons. Which reminds me, Matthew thinks I blog too much.

Back to Lavender. Love to all. What have you been doing? We need to catch up.