I am making cupcakes for a BBQ. My son has poured about a gallon of food coloring into the bowls of vanilla frosting, turning them unnaturally bright shades of their normal colors. It’s not green but GREEN!!! Not orange but ORANGE!!! It looks like a set from Willy Wonka in here.
Last weekend was BEA, or Book Expo, here in NYC. Booksellers from across the nation converge for a huge convention where authors sign and publishers hand out advanced copies of new books. I signed for REBEL ANGELS. And afterward, I trolled the massive Javits Center floor looking for free swag. Didn’t get much because there wasn’t much time but I did score a light-up “Harry Potter Magic Wand” pen for Josh and two posters–one for Kate DiCamillo’s new book and the other for Captain Underpants, so I was deemed an okay mom when I got home. I heard Nick Hornby was signing and was sorry I missed it. Well, I’m sorry I missed a lot of signings, including many of my friends.
I did get to meet some fellow Random House authors, though. Mary Pope Osborne, Carl Hiaasen, Steven Shirripa, and Christopher Paolini. I enjoyed chatting with all of them. On Friday night, I went to a teen author karaoke night. You’re scared knowing this, aren’t you? You should be. 🙂 I’d never gone karaoke-ing (is that a word? well, it is now…) before and all I have to say is Oh…mah…god. I have not laughed that hard in forever. Etched into my brain pan is the image of some of my favorite teen authors singing the worst songs in recording history. Lots of Cher and ’80’s dance numbers that made you automatically want to gel your hair into a topiary shape mid-song. The horror, the horror. It was big fun. There may have to be a repeat, if only so that I can beg David Levithan to sing the Human League again and The Song That No One Knew But Someone Obviously Ordered. I also had the pleasure of meeting Julie Ann Peters, author of Luna, which was nominated for every single award on the planet. She is lovely, and I totally enjoyed singing a duet with her.
In other news, I cut my hair today. It was one of those impulsive things like buying Sweetarts and The Enquirer while standing in line at the drugstore. I was growing my hair long but then suddenly remembered, “Oh wait…I look like crap with long hair…riiiiight….” Plus it’s hot out. And sweaty. And icky. Now, of course, I fear that I might look like a deranged girl scout. Waaaay short on those bangs. (The danger of having to take off your glasses while entrusting your hair to a complete stranger. Why did I cheat on Zac, my loyal and gifted stylist? Sigh. Me bad.) Oh well. That’s what barrettes are for. I’ve been agonizing over the To Bangs or Not To Bangs question since I was in seventh grade, by the way. My friend Laurie used to joke that on my tombstone it would read: Here lies Libba Bray. She was growing her bangs out. Again.
Oh well. Back to the cupcakes. And if you read about somebody growing two heads because they ingested an abnormal amount of food coloring at a summer BBQ, mum’s the word.