good morning

Possibly the best way to wake up on a Saturday morning is to Christopher concocting one of his magnificent frittatas, using nearly every raw ingredient we had in the house (olives, peppadews, yellow and red tomatoes, fresh mozzarella). And toast with these excellent peach preserves that Karen brought us as a pressie. Yum. Hangover gone. Life good. Ride bike. Go to farmer's market. Buy even better tomatoes.

The heat seems to be thinking about going away too.

So, Karen's visit was great, if too, too brief. But we got to see her lots and Christopher produced his magic pad thai, good for dates, travelers and catastrophes. For who can suffer in the face of the pad thai? From her talk, as part of a response to a question on what it's like to be on the NYT best-seller list: "Any day on which I have written is a successful day." And a whole bunch of wise, wise things about the importance of staying in control of what success as a writer means to you, rather than giving it away to other people/entities. The funniest part of this answer (and, as many of y'all know, Karen is the Funniest Person In The World) is right at the beginning where she says that when people ask her what it's like to be on the NYT best-seller list she's always first moved to answer in a very distant way, "Oh, that must be great." And then she remembers they are talking about her.

Last night was the big InKY reading -- which, as I told the audience, was my first non-convention reading. (Thus setting a very high bar for the audience.) We had a really great turnout, probably 40 or 50 people, and a really diverse turnout. There were some SF types and some non-SF types and several poets, who did open mic in the first hour. It was a really good time and I was barely nervous at all. People seemed to like Roanoke and I even pronounced Manteo correctly throughout. A lady came up to me in the bathroom afterward and told me that she couldn't wait for my book to come out so she could find out what happened next. She was very tan and, obviously, a genius. Mark Rudolph rocked the house with his fine poetry and Christopher read "The Force Acting on the Displaced Body", which went over gangbusters. We sold lots of zines and all Christopher's chapbooks we had left, making enough cashola to head over to the Mag Bar and drink some cider with the lovely Erin and Beth and lots of other cool kids. A good time was had by all and we got home not insanely late.

Erin has put together something really special with the InKY reading series, and I'd encourage anyone with the opportunity to go, go, go. It kicks ass. Thanks for having us, missy. Also, go read her thoughts on lactivists and Barbara Walters. Best repeated use of the word tits ever.