Archive for September, 2007
Terry Pratchett took one look at me and decided he needed a drink right away.
I’m assuming that this was a mere coincidence and that the phrase “send the ice water NOW” wasn’t code for “I need tequila immediately or I’m never going to get through this.”
On the other hand, I do tend to have that effect on men, so it could have been me. (Well, maybe her too.)
Confession time: I did not spend the whole evening in the company of Mr. Pratchett, neither were we alone very long. There were a couple hundred people packed into the book signing area at Powell’s that night. Mostly harmless. The woman next to me regaled me with talk of her very strange cat, who apparently has to spend most of his time on anti-depressants. (Yeah, I know, like you want to hear about that. Stop dithering, Mary.)
Pratchett came to Beaverton to promote his latest Discworld book, Making Money, but he also talked a lot about his latest children’s book, Wintersmith. In his opinion, this was the best book he’s ever written. (And considering he’s written over 50 books, that’s saying something.) He said he chose the heroine’s name Tiffany, because it was the “most non-magical name” he could think of. He said it sounded like a woman who was a pole dancer. Then he turned to a little girl in the first row and gravely said, “when you get home, be sure to ask your mummy what a pole dancer is.”
He seemed a lot more tired than from when I’d seen him last (it’s been a few years). He spoke about the death of his father, his mother’s illness, his own angioplasty, and how he’d kept writing throughout. It was as if a part of him were detached from all the things that were going wrong in his life, a part of him that stood back and wrote about what was happening.
From the part of the talk that he called “Questions and Lies,” here are some of the things that I remember:
- He said he read mostly non-fiction. To him, reading fiction was like a car maker looking at a car; you keep thinking about it in terms of how it was assembled. The fiction he read was George McDonald Fraser, Donald Westlake, Carl Hiassen. The non-fiction he was currently reading was A history of pigment, which sounds like the dullest book in the world, but has some fascinating (he said it) information about how we perceive color.
- He has no plans to write a final Discworld book; the stories have developed to the point where it would not be possible to wrap everything up in one book.
- A tall red-headed man in the audience asked if Carrot would ever claim the kingship of Ankh-Morpork. Pratchett said he thought not, but if Carrot did, there would instantly be a civil war, with Vimes on the opposing side.
- He writes by listening to two characters talk; he writes down what they say. Most of these conversations doesn’t necessarily appear in the book, but it tells him about the story.
- Someone asked if he would ever work with Neil Gaiman again on a book. Pratchett thought it would be good and bad to try another collaboration. It would be faster, certainly. In the old days, when they wrote Good Omens, they tried “modem-to-modem” communication, but it was slow and frustrating. In the end, they just ended up trading floppy disks back and forth. On the other hand, both he and Gaiman were a lot more time-crunched these days. “In the old days, he wasn’t ‘Neil Gaiman’ and I was barely ‘Terry Pratchett.’ Now, I’d have to clear six months from my schedule.” My own impression was that he had books he wanted to write, and collaboration wasn’t really high on the list of things he wanted right now.
Powell’s was so packed that they ran out of books (and they’d brought out quite a lot initially). I managed to get one of the last seats, because I was half an hour early, but people were thronged all around the seating area. I think Pratchett was, understandably, a bit intimidated by the thought of signing that many books. He told me to tell OH not to feel too bad about missing him in Kepler’s; apparently they’d run out of books even earlier than Powell’s.
Yes, I did get my picture taken with him, but the guy taking the picture had a lot of trouble with my camera. He kept telling me my batteries were dead, so by the time he actually managed to snap a photo, I had my eyes closed and Pratchett was inscribing a note in the book. Besides, we ain’t all photogenic like Jen-T. So you’ll have to use your imagination. Somehow, I don’t think this will be a problem. 
September 29th, 2007
I am terrible at Song titles and knowing who writes what song. When you all talk about songs with Jenny and setting the mood for your WIP’s, I am fascinated and so jealous. I can sing a lot of lyrics, but as to the other questions….clueless.
But the above song lyrics have been running through my head a lot lately, when I don’t want to beat my head against the wall. Why, you say? Because I am working on a political issue for the November election.
Like I don’t have enough to do. But in Ohio, you have to vote for EVERYTHING to fund the schools….no taxes are just levied. So the only tax (besides a state tax issue that no legislator has the guts to put on) that people get to vote on is school taxes. Swell.
So they hate the Iraq war- vote no on schools (clowns). Mad about the choice of football coach and that our team sucks- vote no on schools. (jokers). And here I am, wading my way through all the objections to try to get to the heart of the matter.
Schools built in 1939, and 1967, and 1948 are not equipped for today’s needs. We can get 31.6 million dollars from our state Tobacco Settlement, if WE pass a levy to match 1/3rd of that cost. One time offer - good for a year only. We can rebuild those elementary schools with that money and add an auditorium to our beloved high school
I won’t got into all the levy intracasies, but I am the one woman PR machine, cranking out fact sheets (weekly), informational booklet for the volunteers(whew- done Sunday), mailings to every voter in the district, (weekly starting next week), door hanger thingys with info on them for 2 pamphlets I need to write by Oct 17th. Yep- just me, my computer, my two girls and the cat. Oh- I forgot getting a website done before the developer went off and got married.
Now, you all have been a great inspiration as usual. Whether life is dealing you lemonade or roses(with or without thorns) the CB’s are always there. Yes, frightening but true, you are the sanity in my day. I can be running all over dropping off info and I think about the party in Dayton, and where everyone was sitting in the room and I smile. I think of OH and her airports, and the postcards so carefully done for everyone and I know that out there, are my real and imaginary friends!
So by November 6th, sleep deprived and sore fingered, I am going to be a nervous wreck. I want to punch some people and kick others in the shin. And then high school kids donate $2 so that we can raise enough money to publicise the thing and get that auditotrium. They need that money. I love them all.
Jokers, Clowns, be damned. We need stuff for our schools and I am going down swinging. After all I volunteeered for this.
What are your causes near and dear to your heart? How do you handle the clowns and jokers? Play nicely amongst yourselves. I’ll be lurking……
Oh I almost forgot- MAX! Our College mascot is the Falcons– his VERY crafty mother made this for him for Halloween. We can hardly stand the fun.
Bryan–calling Bryan?
September 27th, 2007
This is a little game that is, basically, a footprint calculator. A footprint calculator tells you how much land (footprint) it takes to sustain YOUR lifestyle. What’s fun about the game
is that instead of just TELLING you “10 acres” or something (how many earths it would take for everyone to live as you do), it shows a pretty earth with lots of nice trees and critters, then starts adding streets and shops and things in response to your answers.
So I thought it was different enough to be worth telling you about. I hope it’s not someone else’s turn - I didn’t check. My apologies if something else is due or just went up or something.
September 26th, 2007
I don’t want to step on Jen-t’s post time, but this is important. On-topic discussion only, please. Here’s an email I got today:
FROM a nurse:
“I’ll never forget the look in my patients’ eyes when I had to tell them they had to go home with the drains, new exercises and no breast. I remember begging the Doctors to keep these women in The hospital longer, only to hear that they would, but their hands were tied by the insurance companies.
So there I sat with my patients, giving them the instructions they needed to take care of themselves, knowing full well they didn’t grasp half of what I was saying, because the glazed, hopeless, frightened look spoke louder than the quiet ‘Thank You they muttered.”
A mastectomy is when a woman’s breast is removed in order to remove cancerous breast cells/tissue. If you know anyone who has had a Mastectomy, you may know that there is a lot of discomfort and pain afterwards. Insurance companies are trying to make mastectomies an outpatient procedure. Let’s give women the chance to recover properly in the hospital for 2 days after surgery.
It takes 2 seconds to do this and is very important .. Please take the time and do it really quick! Please send this to everyone in your address book. If there was ever a time when our voices and choices should be heard, this is one of those times. If you’re receiving this, it’s because I think you will take the 30 seconds to go to vote on this issue and send it on to others. You know who will do the same.
There’s a bill called the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act which will require Insurance Companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hosp ital stay for patients undergoing a mastectomy. It’s about eliminating the ‘drive-through mastectomy’ where women are forced to go home just a few hours after surgery, against the wishes of their doctor, still groggy from anesthesia and sometimes with drainage tubes still attached.
Lifetime Television has put this bill on their Web page with a petition drive to show your support. Last year over half the House signed on.
PLEASE!! Sign the petition by clicking on the Web site below. You need not give more than your name and zip code number.
***********
That link didn’t work for me the first few times I tried, but when I Googled it, I got the page with that link.
My mom had a lumpectomy for breast cancer about 20 years ago. There is no way she could have gone home the same day, and that was without having a major portion of her anatomy removed. That’s major surgery! Sending someone home after an ordeal like that is just barbaric. Which made me wonder if this was just another “urban legend.” So, I went to Snopes and checked it out. Here’s what they had to say:
[[[Home –> Politics –> Medical –> Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act
Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act]]]
Claim: A bill known as the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act seeks to require insurance companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hospital stay for patients undergoing mastectomies.
Status: True.
The examples they gave included the email I received.
Origins: In January 1997, Congresswoman Rosa DeLauro of Connecticut sponsored H.R. 135, the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 1997, in the 105th Congress. The bill sought to “amend the Public Health Service Act and Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 to require that group and individual health insurance coverage and group health plans provide coverage for a minimum hospital stay for mastectomies and lymph node dissections performed for the treatment of breast cancer.” Among other provisions, the proposed law mandated that the benefits of patients covered under group insurance plans not be restricted “for any hospital length of stay in connection with a mastectomy for the treatment of breast cancer to less than 48 hours.”
This bill was never brought to the floor for a vote after its introduction to Congress. It was referred to various congressional committees, where it languished without action until it expired with the end of the 105th Congress. Rep. DeLauro has since sponsored the same bill four more times: as H.R. 116 to the 106th Congress in January 1999 (the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 1999), as H.R. 536 to the 107th Congress in February 2001 (the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 2001), as H.R. 1886 to the 108th Congress in April 2003 (the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 2003), and as H.R. 1849 (the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 2005) to the 109th Congress in April 2005.
In each case, the bill’s fate was the same: it languished in committee, never being brought to a vote. It was reintroduced to Congress (as the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act of 2007) in January 2007 — the House version (H.R. 119) was referred to the Subcommittee on Health, Employment, Labor, and Pensions in May 2007, and the Senate version (S. 459) was referred to the Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions in January 2007.
Although most efforts to see this bill passed urge supporters to affix their names to some type of petition, we believe the most effective course of action is for advocates of this legislation to contact their congressional representative(s) directly, by U.S. mail, telephone, fax, or e-mail.
Additional information:
AMA letter in support of H.R. 536
Last updated: 7 June 2007
Urban Legends Reference Pages © 1995-2007
by Barbara and David P. Mikkelson
**********
There are links on the Snopes page to the various bills and to Rep. DeLauro which didn’t come through. If you want to use them, click the link above this section to get to their original page.
So, IMO, it won’t hurt to sign the petition, but the Snopes page advice to contact your elected reps personally sounds like the best way to support this legislation, should you be interested. Or both.
September 24th, 2007
I’ve always loved the idea that life is a rose bush. Beautiful. Wonderful. Great smell. And full of thorns. Seems the great rose bush of life has been sticking me with its thorns lately.
Generally speaking, I’m a positive person. Pragmatic and realistic, but positive. I believe in staring down adversity and always moving forward, only looking back when one needs to remember past mistakes so we do not repeat them. Usually, I do not dwell on those things I cannot change and focus on what I can “do”.
We all know what happened to the publisher I was with. Totally out of my control, but I’m still having to deal with the bankruptcy court. It’s a pain in the ass and I’d really like to just forget about it. Move on. But, I want the rights back to my books, so I have stay on top of it and do the things that will help me get my rights back. I also have to keep writing. Work on new things and keep submitting to other publishers. I still dream of being able to hold my book in my hand someday. It’s nice to dream, but sometimes a thorn wakes me up. Annoying damn thorns.
Since February of this past year, I have been dealing with some medical issues. I’ve had two procedures that “should” have taken care of the problem. Should being the operative word here. Did you know should is between shit and syphilis in the dictionary? Well it is. This last procedure has decided to make sure I have every possible complication it allows and few that the doctors have said, “you know Jen, you are not an easy case and this shouldn’t be happening.” There is that should word again. As you can tell, the positive thought process is breaking down here. I’m frustrated. I’m down for the count again and with no real answers to what is wrong. That is just annoying. Damn thorns.
I have been told to “take it easy”. What does that mean? I’m a busy mom with three kids who have very active lives. I have a husband. I have to drive people here and there. I have to cook for them, clean their hockey equipment so it doesn’t smell up the house, help them with their homework, and the list goes on and on. It never ends. It’s not easy for me to “take it easy”. I also don’t know how to ask for help. I’m used to being Wonder Woman. Really, not trying to complain here since I know most people would love to spend a few days, or weeks, or maybe even months “taking it easy”, but enough thorns!
The other day I was sitting in the passenger side of my minivan on the way to the hockey rink with my DD16. I looked over at her and she glanced my way with a smile and said, “Mom, I’m driving.”
I said, “I know.” Then proceeded to cry.
Why? When did my baby girl start to grow up into a warm and wonderful young woman? I can still remember how she smelled when she was born. I can still hear that newborn cry. She was less than 5 pounds when I brought home after fighting like hell to keep her inside as long as possible. I spent 5 weeks in the hospital before she was born over a month early. She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Still is.
Then there are my boys. DS13 – who will be 14 in October and is growing leaps and bounds right now. I look him in the eye. Strange feeling. He looks just like his father. Handsome little devil. He’s starting to change. When did he start to become a young man? What happened to the inquisitive little boy who had to touch everything? Ok – so he still has to touch everything, but he’s growing up so fast. We have grown up conversations. I’m amazed at who he is becoming. I’m in awe of him.
The youngest, DS10 is in his last year at the elementary school. After this year, I will never again have a child in that school. All my kids went there. I know all the teachers. They know me. DS10 is also growing so fast it hurts sometimes. He’s losing that baby look. He doesn’t want me to cuddle as much anymore and God forbid I kiss him in public. I was at the school the other day listening to his teacher tell me what a great role model he is for the other students and what a joy he is to have in class. I cried. This my baby boy someone is taking about. What happened to all my babies? When did I turn 41? How did all this happen?
Of course, when you are stuck in bed on and off for months, you tend to get a little weird. Maybe even a little sentimental. For me, it just showed me that I need to focus on what is truly important to me. Life is truly a rose garden. Thorns and all.
September 23rd, 2007
It’s September. Which means next month is October. Which means it’s almost Halloween. And I need to figure out what my costume is going to be. It has to be something work safe. Something comfortable. And something that I can make from things I own or can easily acquire since I live in a small town which no Cherry Bombs ever visit.
Some costumes from the past include:
A potted plant- khaki pants, green turtleneck, a flower petal headband, and for the pot- a circle of irrigation tubing held waist high with green suspenders that had a tube of brown cloth that hung down and tied at the ankles
The ocean- made a scrub shirt from ocean print material, wore a headband that had killer whale bobbers on it, and made attached pin backs to plastic sea life and scattered them all over me
dust bunny- bunny ears, black jeans and black turtleneck accented with cobwebs, spider rings, baby powder, and a stray sock or two
lady bug- black sweat pants, red sweat shirt with black felt circles sewn on the back, and antennae
This year I’m thinking I want more of a play on words (okay, I really, really, really want the flamingo costume but I can’t see anyone taking me seriously when I’m trying to tell them how to care for their heirlooms or that their child shouldn’t be playing with the plow and beet knives if I’m wearing that.)
My brain has been on other things- All I’ve come up with so far is:
Deviled egg- white shirt, big yellow circle, maybe with a little paprika sprinkled on, with devil horns and devil tail
Holy cow- white sweat suit, black spots, angel wings, and halo
I really want to do a One Night Stand- box decorated to look like a small side stand- head through the top, lamp shade, beer bottle on the side, alarm clock, string of condoms hanging out of the top drawer- but not too work safe
CMS- I have some great ideas for baby costumes- will the kid be here by then? Jack-O-Lanterns are always good for little ones, no matter how divine they are- also lambs, Oompa Loompas, and puppy dogs
Please- I’m begging here- don’t make me do either of those- help me come up with something fun, interesting, and inexpensive.
Daytoners, thank you, thank you, thank you! I have the postcard from the four letter state and my book signed by him and her- y’all are the bestest!!!!!!!!!!
September 18th, 2007
now, i’m not saying we should do another CB writing exercise together (i’m liking the old one, personally), but we’re running out of room and i didn’t want to put a blank post (though bob knows we wouldn’t have any trouble with that). but i just ran across this exercise and i think it would be a good one for writers, since most of us at one time of another have fallen upon a cliche that shouldn’t be in our story:
Choose an object and write down the ten most obvious words you’d use to describe it. (ex: rose= red, thorned, sweet-smelling, etc). Then write a paragraph describing the object without using any of the ten words. (ex: The rose’s petal fell gently off, and Katherine watched it with sick forbearing. Johnathan had given her that rose. Just one, instead of dozens. You only need one to see the beauty in it, he had said, and she had nodded, because she could. The way the color crept from the tips down, fading into the the thick stem. The color of blush, with just a hint of fierceness at the tips, as if all the color had been contained right there at the edge of each petal, and there was a slight leak. She inhaled the scent now, and it was still there, even as another petal fell. It made her feel a little bit better- maybe Johnathan would be kind to her again.)
so anyways, back to mary-beth….
Update:
blame MCB. (and just cause, lori too). i was going to pick a couple of objects and write out the ten adjectives, but i couldn’t think of the ten adjectives. seriously, for rose, i got up to seven (red, thorned, sweet-smelling, pretty, thick-stemmed, delicate, bouquet) before my mind went “no”. so never mind that. seriously, stick with mary-beth. she just got a beer-smelling kitten. go with that.
September 14th, 2007
A while back on another blog, someone (yes, I know who it was and where) mentioned a writing exercise that involved writing a story consisting of 26 sentences, each one beginning with a different letter of the alphabet, used in order. I thought the concept was intriguing and meant to try it, but haven’t gotten around to it. Since I am too hot to think up anything more complicated than that, I thought it might be fun to do as a group. Sort of defeats the whole purpose of an individual pushing their own parameters to do it, but whatever. I figure once we get to the end of the alphabet, if we do, we can either stop or start over again with A.
I’ll start, the rest of you can follow. Or not. Hey, feel free to just keep on commenting about CMS’s impending motherhood. Impending is a synonym for imaginary, right? I’m sure it is.
- Anger management had never been an issue for Beth Ann Davis until the day Jake Turner moved back to town and her dog came home smelling like beer and fish guts.
Have fun!
September 12th, 2007
That’s a line from a very old song. I can’t quite remember the whole thing, but that part stuck with me because I do believe that attitude is a big part of getting through this life; it’s also the only thing that you really have a choice over. What got me thinking about it just now is Jenny’s posts over at Argh Ink. about cleaning her office.
I’ve got stuff that, similar to Jenny’s office, needs doing. Rooms that have gone unattended way too long and ideas for spaces if I ever get them cleaned out. I am not, however, a terribly ambitious nor obsessive person so I find it all to easy to over look a lot of things. And you know what happens when you do that, right? Those gremlins come in when you aren’t looking and make the whole thing so much worse.
A lot of my trouble is a tendency to think “I’ll put that away in a minute” or “I’m going to do something with that when I have the time.” So things don’t get put away right away and they start piling up. I could kick myself when this happens because I know how my mind works. If it’s tidy and clean I have no problem with housework. But when it piles up and gets dusty I avert my eyes and promise to tackle it … eventually. Clearly I need to have some sort of system in place here, and I’ve known it for a while. And this is where the attitude thing comes in.
I’m not a lazy person, I know this stuff needs doing but there’s just a lot of other stuff I’d really prefer to do. Spend time with friends, read, crochet, garden, nap … not necessarily in that order. My “me” time is very important to me. It’s not as though I’m negelecting everything. My bills are paid and laundry is done and we have clean dishes. Mentally I have assigned these things to a higher priority. They are my “must do’s” as opposed to my “need to do’s” and “should do’s.” MD’s have to get done because there are consequences if they aren’t. NTD’s are things like cleaning the bathrooms and cutting the grass. I consider them essential but the consequences aren’t as immediate. And then there are the SD’s.
SD’s are things like culling paperwork, dusting, decluttering the closet and so on. I know that if they are done my life will be more pleasant. I’ll enjoy my environment more and be motivated to maintain them. I’ll also be able to have guests visit. But let’s face it, dusting can always be put off another day. And a little clutter never hurt anyone. Well not seriously anyway. But that attitude has a tendency to backfire on me because I actually do care how things look and I’m much happier when things are well organized. So it’s time for an attitude shift. It’s time to make this stuff a priority at least for now.
In order to change your attitude, however, you have to know yourself really well. You have to be willing to face your faults and weaknesses and see them for what they are. In my case it’s knowing that I find it too easy to put things off and am daunted by jobs that are too big. Some people find it energizing; I am not one of them. Once you face your foibles, you have motivate yourself to change. It’s not enough to say “I’m going to be different.” If it were that easy then change wouldn’t be necessary, right? I use the word motivate but in all honesty it’s more like manipulating. Yes, I manipulate myself. I play mind games to nudge my thinking around the way I want to be. Why not? We do it with other people, right? Your spouse or your kid or your boss … you figure out how to get around them in order to get what you want, right? So why not use that same methodology on yourself? Who better if you think about it, since you know you better than anyone, if you’ve been honest with yourself. Okay, that’s an awkward sentence but you see where I’m going, right?
This works for many things and trust me is worth trying. I’ve manipulated myself into losing weight, learning something new, dealing better with people … and now I’m putting it into practice to get my life sort out.
I’m going to focus on one element at a time. This system has two benefits: (1) it gives you smaller, more manageable tasks that are less overwhelming, and (2) as you check off each chore you get a feeling of accomplishment that helps sustain you through the next task. I have to do it this way because otherwise I see the job as just too big. Attitude again. I actually started last night but taking a garbage bag into one room and going around grabbing things to be thrown away. And I used the smallish kitchen can liners for the job rather than the bigger rubbish bags because filling a bag and carrying it out again make me feel like I’ve accomplished something … hey I got rid of a whole bag of stuff! It’s like the joke about being able to eat an entire cow - one bite at a time. If I focus on doing just one thing at time and keep going I’ll eventually get to the end.
If you need a jumping off point, the topic is times and ways you’ve decided to make changes for the better.
September 10th, 2007
First and most importantly, we needed more time and all of the CBs together to do the event justice. Secondly, we packed a heck of a lot into twenty-four hours.
Scope and I left home Wednesday night after work. When we reached the border at 1am, it was a welcome sight. We gave the border guard most of the talking points. Scope wanted to give him all of Bob’s aliases but alias isn’t a word I’m comfortable using with a Customs and Immigration officer.
Me was her usual gracious, and gloating self. Apparently, Mike Rowe, from Discovery’s Dirty Jobs, had just finished his segment on a late night talk show. She was amused while she waited for us. I was disgruntled at missing out on him. Go to the link and you’ll see why. But I digress. Me made it up to me by gifting me with my very own Spartan. So while my dream time was short, it was very active - CBs and Spartans and Mike Rowe, oh my!
The drive to Dayton was punctuated by much hilarity. The Alcatraz Gentleman’s Club provided many questions. Who names these things? How is that good marketing and most frequently, WTH? My favourite was the CB Shop. It offered repairs and installation. How perfect. And every few miles I petted my Spartan.
Getting into Dayton was an adventure but once we walked into the hotel, it was obvious that the CBs would never make good covert operators. The front desk handed us our room keys before we even told them who we were. Scary.
Jenb was waiting for us. My initial impression was that she was going to raise our class quota considerably. She was gracious and kind and I had no idea why she and Scope were giggling while I was stacking our bags in the other room.
A few moments later the door opened and people spilled in. I recognized RSS, then arms enfolded me, Wapak, then a brunette, OH she said, I screamed, deafened her, then GP. Hugs and squeals all around.
This is when I started bargaining for someone else to go get Bryan. I was afraid that I was going to miss frivolity and merriment. I was assured nothing would happen while I was gone. So I changed into my CB uniform (In the darkness tee, black skirt and cherry heels) and dragged Me off with me to navigate. More assurances they would sit quietly and wait for us, a map from GP in case we had to meet them at The Cheesecake Factory instead of back at the hotel and off we went.
We met some strange Spartan-less woman who introduced herself to us as Lori. It was a brief meeting as we were already late for Bryan’s bus. Lori’s friend waved, the ships continued in different directions with more assurances that no one would have a good time until after we returned.
Poor Me was in a horrible state when we arrived at the terminal to find a distinct lack of Bryan. I was confident that if he wasn’t on the bus and hadn’t called me he was dead. One way or another. He’d tried to call my cell phone but I hadn’t heard it trill beneath all the squealing from two paragraphs back. Apparently his bus had been half an hour late. I assured him we would wait for him. I’m not so sure about Me. If it had come down to Bob or Bryan, it was a no-brainer. CBs are resourceful. Fortunately for Bryan, we had plenty of time to load his stuff into the car, jump up and down because he brought me, not her, a PopTart camera, and navigate the detours.
This is the picture taken by said PopTart camera, of Me as we crossed the parking lot to The Cheesecake Factory. Look at how Bryan is already distancing himself from us.
Was it my excitement over the camera, or Me’s anxiety about missing the book signing? I think it may have been the squealing.
As our reservations were set for 5:30 pm, we were directed to the bar to wait for the rest of our party. I looked over Me’s shoulder and saw a lovely young woman with a huge smile approaching us. It was Mandy and honestly she was exactly as I imagined her to be. She’d dusted off the cobwebs and joined right in with all the conversations like she’d known us forever. I felt bad that I had my back to Bryan but that’s the trouble with bar set-ups. It’s difficult to engage everyone simultaneously.
My phone rang. McB. Sounded like lots of frivolity and merriment in the background. She insisted I was mistaken. They were en route, had Scope so we should prepare ourselves. The excitement was high. We watched them parade past the window. Once they trooped in and we were all seated it was like a papparazzi convention. Cameras and flashes. Most of my pictures are blurry because people simply could.not.sit.still. Check out OH’s earrings.
Despite the fact that I didn’t think it was possible, the energy level ramped up to nuclear meltdown. Bob and Jenny had been spotted. They walked around the corner of that short wall and stopped dead. I wish someone had taken a picture of their faces. There’s no way I can describe the shock, honor, humility and affection in their expressions. Then Jenny stepped forward, spread her hands to indicate the 15 of us and asked, “Is this the best you could do?”
I was seated halfway down, between the two sets of tables so I was out of almost all the conversations. Bryan and GP discussed cameras, I had salad envy over Mandy’s dinner choice, and OH was beside me. OH!!!I kept rubbing up against her shoulder the way the cat does when I return home from a trip, reassuring myself she was real.
Bryan went down to sit with Bob, backup I suppose.
I imagine the conversation was minimal.
Bob:You with them?
Bryan: Maybe.
pause.
Bob:Thanks.
Bryan:Welcome.
~ I can’t believe CMS was eavesdropping - bjw
or vice versa.
Everyone gave Bob and Jenny gifts. I’d made cherrybomb bracelets for everyone. Bryan and Bob’s were made of black hemp. Bob wondered if it was a wrist strengthener, from The Colbert Report. I noticed he kept it on the table throughout the book signing.
I gave Jenny a stuffed flamingo dog toy from Ky to her dogs. She said Wolfie in particular would love it. After GP’s comment about Bob’s monosyllabic conversation, he opened right up; circulated around the table interacting with everyone.
It was all too soon before they were rushing to the bookstore across the street. Wapak herded us up and out of our seats, took care of the bill and all the CBs. She truly is the best hostess, most efficient, organized and dare I say it? punctual.
Dee and I broke free of the whack to retrieve Scope’s present for Bob from the car. By the time we got to Books and Co, the displays had been picked clean. It was a revelation to see McB’s pictures and all of the books on the table. Fortunately Scope had scooped some for me, not Me, she’d filled a basket of her own.
There were so many conversations swirling around that all I can truly remember is joy, and yes merriment and frivolity. Lots of it. I’m going to let the pictures tell the stories. Bryan telling stories…
I was laughing so hard at the way Bryan was trying to hide behind Agnes and everyone’s desire to be incognito…
Bob and Jenny were spot on, the best I’ve ever heard, and ever so gracious to those nonCbs.
We let other people in front of us in line so that they wouldn’t have to wait until midnight. Check on out the look on everyone’s faces as they watch Bob and Jenny interact with their fans.
Jenny was funny as always. Told everyone to ignore us. Ate one section of Bob’s KitKat then rewrapped the rest while he expounded on the joys of collaboration. It was such a treat to hear his voice. I think he was using the verbosity as a disguise.
I’m a horrible storyteller. I was simply full of joy to be surrounded by people who have held tight to my sanity when that was a task too big for me to undertake alone. I did notice how Bob held the corner of the mantle every time someone came around the desk for a photograph with the Authors.
I did have to chastise them, Jenny and Bob, for discussing Agnes complete with spoilers in front of people who hadn’t read the book yet. They both apologized.
I asked Jenny to sign a copy of the book-that-shall-not-be-named. She was appalled, even more so when Bryan told her he’d read it on the bus. Scope put her copy forward to sign and Jenny demanded we burn our books. That’s what she wrote inside them.
We lingered as long as we could. I asked Bob how he felt about all the power he wields. Omibob, Honest to Bob and Bobwilling. He laughed at the last one and muttered, “Not often.” Humour. Har.
When we finally managed to navigate the bookstore, I made three more purchases thank you Dee!,Wapak rounded us up and herded us back to the hotel. It wasn’t an easy task, as evidenced by the exhaustion of Dee’s oldest child…
We talked about all the CBs we’ve met or are desperate to meet(that would be all of you), wrote postcards - good job OH
I spilt my margarita all over myself when Scope said at her age she’d take sex where ever she could get it, even a camel. I had to go back to the room and change into my Spartan tee which I flaunted repeatedly in Lori’s face. Everyone distributed presents, shared stories about how they got to Dayton, previous CB meets (I do so pet my dog, Bryan) and how happy we were to be together. I truly don’t remember snippets of conversation. Dee was feeling sick, had her head on my shoulder.
Later she sat with her new MAC on her lap and tapped refresh for the B&G while in her sleep. It was funny. It was hard to let Lori, Mandy and Krista leave even though it was well past everyone’s bedtime and Mandy had an 830am class. Kids these days, no stamina.
We broke the party up some time after 2am. And met back downstairs at 9am for breakfast. It was surreal. Everyone was tired, talking about books, authors, travel plans, writing, mailing stuff out. There was a great discussion about the secret project, much admiration for other people’s contributions.
Gret is one of the best kids I’ve ever met. She contributed to discussions with intelligence and wit. Dee, who is an amazing woman, has raised an amazing young lady. They should both be proud.
RSS tells the funniest stories about how men and women relate. Perched forward on her chair with much handwaving to elaborate her point, she was intense… and funny… and accurate.
I didn’t think Bryan should be privy to such discussion but he did bear out her observations. He was a great sport about all the giggling, shopping, indecision. Not to mention,he held doors and took photos for everyone at the book signing. There’s no way he could carry everyone’s books. Did you see those baskets?
GP made some excellent points about math and how we can use it without pain. I’m not sure how she feels with us using McB as a unit of measurement but seriously look at this picture…
There was some fascinating, honestly, discussion about geometry and time and airports and driving and math applied for all! My brain didn’t hurt from it either.
Lori made me laugh so much when she showed us pictures of her shag carpeted walls. I actually thought they looked much better than expected but her descriptions of the tacky seventies colours, which I happen to adore, left me gasping for air.
jenb has such a soft gentle voice yet there’s a wealth of experience in her words that command attention. She’s incredibly compassionate and heartfelt. I wish I’d had more time to spend with her one on one. Crammed beside her in the elevator simply didn’t cut it.
Krista and Me were huddled together on the floor, laughing and I have no idea what went on but there’s no way anyone would know Krista hadn’t been at the bar and grill before.
Mandy explained how nursing school kept her in the attic. We didn’t buy that excuse and her smile lit up the room every time I looked over at her on the floor with Lori, Krista and OH, who had the temerity to call that whack the “young CBs”. She did assure me, not her but she’ll be glad to hear it too, that she, OH will still be happy to bring us cookies in the nursing home. And BBQ sauce. Yumm.
McB made margaritas, and gave us golden shovels and taught Gret, Mandy and Krista about Readers. Even when seated, she seemed to be in constant movement.
Wapak is hysterical. Every story about her small hometown, football season and MAX! were told in such a way that I felt part of her community. Ohio should hire her as a full-time ambassador. I have never felt so welcome or appreciated as I did in Wapak’s suite. Plenty of food, drinks and good friends. Imaginary or otherwise.
It was incredibly difficult to pull ourselves away. Wapak took jenb, RSS, and OH to the airport after some tearful hugs. We packed up our own room, and used GP’s math to fit all that stuff into my wonderful car. This is where Bryan almost lost a hand by trying to help. I take packing very seriously. But it all fit. Nothing got left behind. Not even that book Dee gave me when we were all ready to head over to Panera.
McB jumped into the car, onto my lap (Me was driving) and I got out, muttering it wasn’t legal. I had no idea we were only driving across the parking lot. I jumped into Dee’s van. We discussed Gret’s visit to Canaidia, possibly taking the van load on to Indiana with us. The Man, Dee’s Man, didn’t agree with the plan’s brilliance.
Jenny was not at Panera so we didn’t linger there but headed to the book store in the shopping mall so that Bryan could get a copy of Lost Girls. No such luck with that but we did some serious shopping. Bryan and I were sitting by a car that I wanted him to win so that I could fit more stuff inside, when Me rushed out of the store to announce 85% off shoes. All we heard was the scurrying clatter from McB’s shoes as she headed off in pursuit of a sale.
Bryan was a good sport about all of the shopping. Although when he complained about being tired because of the long bus ride the night before and sleeping on a pullout couch, I couldn’t help myself. I laughed aloud. I slept on a pullout couch, different one people, sheesh, and drove for eleven hours to get to Dayton. I also planned to drive another three to get Bryan home. But it must have been irritating to check out shoes, earrings and colognes when all he wanted to do was read.
When we could put it off no longer, there was another round of tearful farewells. And then we were four.
I give Cathy a lot of credit for not batting an eye when we arrived far past dinner, bedraggled and giddy from so much merriment and frivolity. We consumed several glasses of wine and relayed much of the Dayton experience. I suspect we were a little punch drunk and incomprehensible. No one seemed to understand our hysterical laughter when her husband flipped through the channels to land on Sound of Music just in time for the So long, farewell song. I think Lori sang a much better version.
Bryan escaped to work at the library on Saturday while Me, Scope and I toured Columbus with Cathy. We took Scope to my favourite spot in town, the war memorial.
It’s an incredible space that never fails to choke me up and bring me outside of myself and all my petty little complaints.
From there we headed over to the Columbus Convention and Visitors Bureau. Actually we slid in the door five minutes before they closed. That had been our modus operandi all day. No wonder people glared when we strolled into Cooks and Co. to buy an Agnes frying pan.
Once we arrived at the library, Me and Scope accosted the reference librarian (Bryan) for information about camels. I saw at least three textbooks reference books [ed.] on his desk.
Cathy and I sat in front of a fiction shelf and read the first sentence of no less than a dozen offerings. What an eye-opener. I think I’ll revisit my first sentence.
Bryan closed down the library and joined us on a journey for the best frozen custard where they had ta-da Cherry Bomb flavour. See…
The rest of the evening involved more shopping, a few bad renditions of Motown’s greatest hits, packing and blogging. No matter where we go, we’re always connected.
Bryan and I managed to squeak one of our lengthy debates into all of that activity. I was nonplussed when he pointed out that Mr. Black and White had switched positions with the Queen of Grey. I thought I was arguing dark grey and incredibly pale grey. That shut me up for a few hours. I thought of a few more illustrations about it on the long drive home but refrained from calling him at 6am to continue the discussion. Who knew I had such restraint?
For those of you who are still with me, we said good-bye to Bryan and Cathy and her family before assuring them we would drive carefully, safely and embarked northeast.
A brief stop on the way home at 3am is why we didn’t call WapakGram…
…followed by an even briefer stop to drop off Me completed our journey to Dayton and elsewhere. It was an amazing trip and no way my rambling post can convey all the emotions. Most importantly of all, the laughter.
Have shovel, will travel.
September 5th, 2007
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