A whole month between posts? Bad! Bad author! ! Nose in the paper, nose in the paper!
I can’t believe it’s May. Did April happen for me? Did I forget to sign up for April this year? Hmmm…
I’m typing at the kitchen table, sitting in possibly the world’s most uncomfortable wooden chair, surrounded by boxes of Stuff I Probably Don’t Need. (Why did I buy all that gift wrap at Target? It is because there is some weird strand on my DNA that makes it virtually impossible for me to pass up groovy patterned tissue paper on sale?)
Still no closing date. Still no move. But there are boxes, my friends. Oh, lots and lots of boxes. The mover took one look at our combined books, made a whistling sound and said, “At least 70 boxes for the books alone.” All you have to do is move to see what it is that you value. For me, apparently, it is books, my kid’s artwork, ancient concert t-shirts, a David Bowie Scary Monsters button, notebooks full of writing, notes from friends and family collected over the years, and tissue paper for making gifts look oh-so-pretty-pretty. It feels like the start of a weird new game show: What Would You Toss?
Answer: magazines. old CDs (thank you, iPod). VHS tapes. triplicate pictures I will never manage to organize in an album. 4,000 different electrical/phone cords and cables. Remote controls to nothing that exists. Clothes from 1990. (If you see girls walking around Brooklyn sporting a Jody Watley/Nirvana look, you can blame me.) Candles with a half-inch of wax left in them. Ikea tchotchkes. Holey throws and sheets. Furniture in need of hospice care. Framed art I must have bought while drunk in my college years because how else to explain it. A ceramic Santa in high heels holding a dreidel (I have no words. None.), 12 free florists’ vases, jewelry gone wrong (why did I buy silver pig earrings? Why?), bad recorded-off-the-TV tapes of old Star Trek episodes, massage gift certificates that expired about five years ago which is a sad and pathetic commentary on my life, patterned hose, a piece of paper from 9th grade on which I had written “Mrs. Robin Zander” (Robin Zander. Lead singer of Cheap Trick. My jr. high obsession. I’m sure if I send that to him now he’ll just jump on the next plane…), an artificial eye…not mine…which is a little frightening, makeup you could use carbon dating on. And a mysterious photo of cows that I threw away, rescued, threw away again, and pulled back out because, well, mystery cows are just too weird to let go of.
I vowed I was going to organize my office stuff before I packed it. But I just ended up throwing all of it plus the organizing things I bought at Staples into a big plastic tub and calling it a day.
I’m sorry for not answering posts on here lately. I may be kind of spotty about that till the one-two punch of novel deadline/moving is over and done with.
In other news, I went to TLA’s (Texas Librarians Association) annual conference in Houston, which turned out to be a really great, relaxing trip even though I was working. (Hey, THAT was in April! Whoohoo! I now have something to account for in April.) I had some time to see my friend Mike from UT. He took me out for fabu Tex Mex (my fave next to Indian) and I got to pet his dogs. (Dogs = happiness.) I signed books, met the Libba Bray Army (shout out to my new friends in Victoria, TX), did a talk, and bought red shoes. (Why is it that purging stuff just makes you buy new stuff? This would be troubling except that the shoes look like spider webs and they are red and they were on sale and…oh screw it. I’m not going to justify shoe shopping. it is what it is.)
And then there’s the novel. It’s still called….book #3, although I think I might have a title now. I’m finally in under the skin of this thing, which is a relief. I’m having a blast, actually. Hooray! I sat down to outline it so I could keep my thoughts organized, and the minute I started to write, the outline was totally out the window. I was off-road in the jeep. Hopefully the off-road approach will yield some cool bits and not land me in the front yard of creepy, Leatherface types.
P.S. I can’t believe Chris got voted off American Idol. That sucks.
P.P.S. I can’t believe I have to wait THREE WHOLE MONTHS for the next season of “Veronica Mars.” I’m going into withdrawal. And am I wrong for wanting Logan and Veronica to steam up the screen?
Jesus. I’m starting to bore myself.