the write address

I am looking for a new apartment. My own place, for the first time ever. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. For the past three years, I've lived in a cozy three-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side with two terrific roomies. Before that, I lived with one of my current roomies in a one-bedroom (we made it work) on the East Side, and before THAT there was my parents' place and college. So me -- alone, with no one to kill bugs or help me with the can opener or chat with me when I walk in the door ( and also with no one to jump in the shower before me, no one to blast the TV when I want to sleep, no one to weigh in on my decorating choices...) -- is going to feel VERY new.

In New York City, looking for an apartment is like a full-time job. Prices are insane. There's always a catch. You want it all -- good light, safety, space, maybe a park within reach -- but the universe, or perhaps the real estate gods, merely laugh. It's a constant uphill battle to find the right place. And for a writer, I think, it's even more difficult.

Even though I've developed a taste for writing in Starbucks and libraries over the years, I still like to write at home when I can. So whenever I see an apartment for the first time, I invariably think "Can I write here?" Is there room for my desk, is the light good enough, will the traffic below inspire me or annoy me? Of course there is no way to tell until you have really moved in. But I'm rather obsessive about these qualities in an apartment. What I would truly love is a space that would allow me my own bedroom, living room, and separate writing office. I dream about this the way some people dream about winning the Lottery (and in New York,unfortunately, the two are pretty much linked).

Do other writers feel this way? Do you think where you live affects the way you write? Am I just being overly neurotic?

I will keep you posted if--and when--I find the (nearly) perfect place!

Until then, happy summer...

All things crappie

In a little intro to How NOT to Spend Your Senior Year, Cameron talks about what is and isn't true in her book. In that spirit, I thought I'd clue you in on a few things that are and aren't true in THE BOYS NEXT DOOR.

I grew up on a beautiful lake in Alabama, but there is no Crappie Festival on Lake Martin. There is, however, an Interstate Mullet Toss at the Flora-Bama Lounge down at the beach. People try to throw a mullet across the Alabama/Florida state line. I have never been to the Interstate Mullet Toss myself. My first job after college was as a copyeditor for the Montgomery newspaper. My boss was a very low-key person, so I was surprised when she came in looking sort of bedraggled one day. In fact, she looked like someone who had spent the weekend in the sun, throwing fish across the state line. I've been waiting to put the Interstate Mullet Toss in a book ever since.

The town where I grew up also had a huge cotton mill with an outlet store where you could get all sorts of designs put on T-shirts. Hunting and fishing are important activities in this town, so the store had lots of deer designs and fish designs. They offered a picture of a fish that said "Bass!" and a picture of a fish that said "Catfish!" and a picture of a fish that said "Crappie!" Well, that's just funny. I gave my best friend a crappie T-shirt for her birthday, and after we graduated from high school she wore it around Boston University.

The bryozoa is 100% real and I have accidentally touched it more times than I can count. *shudder* (The link goes to a Wikipedia article that I'm considering updating because it's incomplete. It does not contain the terms slimy or ugh.)

SCHOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER!

Let's hear it for Alice Cooper. This time of year all I can think about is that song! The whole tempo and temperament around our house changes completely once finals and regents come to an end, and there's nothing for weeks except those lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer. (Yeah, I know, I'm quoting another old song, but I just can't help it--I'm married to a musician, song quoting is just something we do around here). If the kids are happy, mom's happy.

And I am happy. Mostly because I have plenty of work to keep me busy. I don't know if anyone else gets really cranky if they don't write something every day, but I know I do. I need that release of losing myself in a world of my own making for at least a few hours every day.

Anyhow, I gotta go now. I have a camp trunk to pack, as Ian leaves for his 7 1/2 weeks of camp next Tuesday. As for Amanda, for the first time in six years, she spending the summer here. She's going to experience the feeling of hot town, summer in the city. back of my neck getting dirty and gritty. (Uh oh! There I go again!) But somehow I think she's going to love it. There really isn't any place as fun as New York City in the summer. Come to think of it, I can't think of any place as fun as New York City during any time of the year. (Relax, I'm not going to break into a chorus of New York, New York on the blog!)

Anyway, no matter where you're spending your summer, or what you do, I hope it will be memorable. And let's hope that as the temperatures rise, cooler heads prevail, and we get some peace on this planet soon.

xxoo

Nancy

Still a Kid at Heart

Greetings!

My family just got back from a road trip to S. California. We had the most amazing time at Disneyland and Sea World. I loved watching my 3 boys' reactions to the various animals, characters, and shows, and screaming with them on roller coasters.

But the thing that amazed me the most was the way I felt when the Disney characters paraded down Main Street. It was like I was a little girl again, vying for Snow White's attention, laughing at Goofy's antics, hoping that Mickey himself would be in the last float. At Sea World, when I got to pet the bat rays and dolphins and hold starfish, I was transported back to when I was a kid, wondering what the sea animals would feel like and what they'd do when I held them.

Which experiences from your past spark memories that you like to share with loved ones?

5 Islands in 7 Days

Okay, the islands were all fairly close together, but I had only been to one of them before. These isles run along the Georgia/Northern Florida coast, and they come in all phases of development and charm. My younger brother got married on Jekyll Island at the Jekyll Island Club Hotel, the former yacht playground of J.P. Morgan and the Rockefellers. The outdoor wedding got rained out but still turned out lovely, and the wedding party had its own mansion for the weekend. Jekyll is very kickback and under strict anti-development rules, so it's a nice place for a quiet vacation with almost deserted beaches.

Following two nights there, it was on to Hilton Head Island off the coast of Georgia. We used to go to Hilton Head when I was a kid, and it has changed from a sleepy backwater to a fully developed city with championship golf courses. No more crabbing for dinner off a rickety dock, but on to a first-class restaurant. There's a spooky old pre-civil war cemetery on Hilton Head, which I used in my book, THE WITCHING WELL, but even it's been cleaned up and gardened. Spoilsports! Savannah is close by for an added plus.

San Simon Island is also civilized but less snooty than Hilton Head. Seems to attract a younger, more beachy crowd, and has numerous bed-and-breakfasts instead of swank resorts. We really liked it there, and we saw a lot of vacation rentals. We also like Amelia Island, Florida, where we stayed in an aged motel right on the beach. Amelia Island is very charming and old-school, with ancient beach bungalows built to resemble lighthouses (see pic) and rickety outdoor bars with live music.

Last but not least, Anastasia Island. This is off the coast of Florida and houses most of the beaches for San Augustin, longest inhabited city (by Europeans) in the USA. Great history there and beautiful beaches. Don't miss the Gator Farm and the old Spanish quarter. It was a joy to have all the family together for my brother's wedding, especially all the female cousins. And their boyfriends! Yikes! Who's gonna foot the next one?

CG

No parking on the dance floor

Last weekend my husband and I attended our high school class reunion. The party was held at a lodge overlooking the lake where The Boys Next Door is set, in sight of the bridge that figures prominently in the book. I took this as a good omen that the book will do well when it's released a week from tomorrow (it's already in stock at the online bookstores).

I channeled my inner Lori, the heroine of the book, by being a dork and dancing the night away to 80's music though I can't dance. If you're not going to do the robot to "Freakazoid" at your high school reunion, when are you going to do it?

I also caught up with my classmates. Like Adam in the book, so many of them were smart and talented even though the school said they weren't. It was wonderful to find out how successful they've been, outshining any prediction of the standardized tests. The older I get, the more I realize there are lots of definitions of "success" and lots of ways to be happy.

Required reading

So, I guess I must have blinked or something back in March, because all of a sudden, my first semester of grad school is over. This is astonishing. Astonishing, I tell you!

Despite a few small hiccups during the transitional period (ie: I needed to search deep inside of myself to find motivation to change out of my pajamas in the morning), I can honestly say that I love my new lifestyle. As much as editing used to be wonderful gratification, these days I am truly relishing the opportunity to save my creative energies for my own work. Pretty selfish, huh? But what can you do?

Another semi-unexpected byproduct of the Vermont program is how much I'm reading again! This past semester, I read about 50 books for my coursework, which means I finally got around to folks like Carolyn Mackler, Sarah Dessen, Blake Nelson, and others that I'd managed to avoid until now. Of the bajillion titles that I've "discovered" since January, here's my top five:


1. Rachel Cohn, "Gingerbread"
2. Julia Bell, "Massive"
3. Gene Luen Yang, "American Born Chinese"
4. Natasha Friend, "Perfect"
5. Marilyn Sachs, "The Fat Girl"

My caveat, of course, is that 5/50ths of a reading list is really just the tip of the iceberg. There is a staggering amount of fabulous work out there. Now that I've got a month off from school, I'm diving into the extracurricular stacks. First will be "Tips on Having a Gay (Ex)Boyfriend, by Vermont College's own Carrie Jones, followed closely by Niki's "Goddess Games," which looks, as Nicole Ritchie would say, "a-MAH-zing."

What's on your summer reading list?

Techno-savvy. Really!

At Niki's suggestion, I have added a link on the right to an RSS feed of the blog. Or, if you're a LiveJournal user, you can subscribe to the blog at sprocoms--it's just like adding us as a friend. I'm sorry about the weird name. Sprocoms! I wanted it to be Simon Pulse Romantic Comedies, duh, but LiveJournal said that was too long. So I shortened it to SPRoComs and it came out sprocoms, which sounds like a Japanese seaweed snack. Mmmmm, I love sprocoms and Diet Pepsi.

Attention, please!

You know how some things demand your undivided attention? And how, often, more than one of those things happen at the same time, which means your attention is, well, DIVIDED? That's what the last couple weeks have been like at Casa Niki.

First--my newest book, Goddess Games, hit the shelves (happy, happy, joy, joy!) If you click on the title, you can read an excerpt. As you might guess, I'm thrilled to see it in stores!

Second--and even more exciting--I got a new puppy!! She's a poodle, and her name is Tipper. She's still pretty small (you can check out how she compares to a large Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee) and has two speeds: running and exhausted.

Needless to say, she needs a TON of attention, or she eats the houseplants or has accidents (she's only two months old, so we're still working on housetraining!)

So, of course, with all this going on (requiring pretty much all my attention), I headed off to NYC and BookExpo. BookExpo is this monster event for booksellers, publishers, librarians, authors, and pretty much anyone whose job has something to do with books. I spent a couple days working in the Romance Writers of America booth, where I got to see author Geralyn Dawson (left) being interviewed by Eloisa James for Romance Novel TV.



Then I hopped into the hot seat for an interview with Romance Novel TV, which will be posted to their site in the near future. (In the meantime, check out the great interviews with other authors, including Nora Roberts and Janet Evanovich.)

BookExpo is also the place to get autographed copies of the latest books. There's a main autographing area consisting of thirty-two tables, each of which is occupied by a different author every hour (and sometimes every half-hour!) signing copies of their newest release. I signed a TON of copies of Goddess Games at table thirty-one. While I was signing, guess who was next to me at table thirty?



If you can't read the nametag...it's Ridley Pearson! Not only does he write fabulous suspense novels, but he also co-writes the Peter Pan prequels with Dave Barry (they're phenomenal books--I highly recommend 'em to everyone!)

Needless to say, BookExpo had me going in two speeds, running and exhausted! When I came home to Tipper (who was delightfully happy to see me!), I made certain to give her my undivided attention. Now off to walk the dog....

a hidden gem, a summer party

Up until this weekend, I'd never been to Governor's Island. It's a hidden gem, a small stretch of green, lovely land, located in the middle of New York Harbor, between Brooklyn, Ellis, and Liberty Islands. Up until 1996, it was used as a military base, so it's full of old forts and beautiful, sprawling homes in which the officers lived with their families.

My boyfriend's friend told us about an annual summer bash held on the island -- a Great Gatsby-themed swing dance/picnic, so naturally we were on board. We caught the ferry down at the tip of Manhattan (Whitehall/South Ferry) and rode it a mere seven or so minutes (perfect for me, because I'm not a fan of long boat rides!), enjoying the wind on our faces and admiring the view of Lady Liberty. Once on the island, we weaved through stately homes, tree-lined roads, and grassy stretches along the river to reach the picnic grounds, all the while feeling that we'd fallen into some sort of other world, a dream-place. The island is basically deserted (my boyfriend and I went exploring in one of the beautiful houses, and it was absolutely empty -- not even a stray piece of furniture), which makes it feel even more surreal...but enchanting. The feeling of we're-not-really-in-2007-New-York-anymore got stronger when we reached the bandstand and saw people dressed to the hilt in flapper garb doing the Charleston while guys in straw boat hats strolled alongside ladies with parasols. We hadn't dressed up in costume, but we still felt quite fabulous in our summer clothes as we lunched on cheese, crackers, lox, olives, and watermelon on our blanket.


We learned that Governor's Island is open to the public (for free) on Saturdays and Sundays this summer. Now that I'm taking some MUCH-needed time-off from writing (at least until the fall), I'm planning on doing some more picnicking out there -- forget overcrowded, overrated Central Park! If you're in the NYC area, please come out and explore this little secret nook of splendor on the harbor.

Introducing the Next Steven Spielberg...

...or not. He'd prefer to be known as the bassist from the next big heavy metal band.

Whatever...

Congratulations, Brendan! You made it through thirteen years of lower education. Now, on to higher ed and that director's chair I know is waiting for you out there (even if it is just directing your latest music video).

And congratulations to all the other high school (and, heck, college, too) graduates out there. Whether you got there top of your class and having won every award known to mankind, or whether you got there by closing your eyes, gritting your teeth and chanting 'only one more year, one more month, one more week, one more day', you got there.

The world is your oyster (be careful of the sand, though, it's a bit gritty in the mouth).

Now -- a word for the moms of the graduates: congratulations! You made it. Whether you made it with a bragging rights list for the next decade, or a sense that this next part of your grad's life has got to be better for them, you made it!

For me, this young man represents my third and final precious child to push through lower ed. It is the end of my days of permission slips and marking school holidays on my calendar.

I have looked forward to this day for a long time (long story, with lots of bitter twists and moments of grace -- I'll spare you). I did not know how it would affect me. I usually post on the 5th of the month, and I had a picture of my son in his gown ready to go on that date. But...he wasn't graduated. And so superstition stayed my typing fingers until today. Which means I can tell you I had tears in my eyes as his Class of 2007 marched into the gymnasium. My throat had a lump.

I watched the pairs of no-longer children march to the front of the crowd as they had practiced all week. I thought of this group of kids when they were in kindergarten and I'd bring cupcakes (you could still do that back then) for birthdays and school parties. I thought of their faces when I volunteered classroom time and there was this quaint system of turning over a cup on the edge of the desk to indicate they needed help. Some kids never turned that cup over, and I'd have to watch for the signs they were struggling and then ask, "Did you want to turn your cup over?" I've forgotten which kids they were now. All I remember are cups on edges of desks and impossibly young faces.

My advice to the new graduates for the future: don't forget to turn your cup over when you need help -- none of us make it on our own in lower ed, in higher ed, or in life. When you're sitting in the audience of parents and grandparents and friends and family and teachers and coaches and fellow students in cap and gown the truth of that shines through even through the tears of pride and joy...and profound relief.

A cheer of joy and hope to all members of the Class of 2007, wherever you are!!

Come on over to the par-TAY!

The release of THE BOYS NEXT DOOR is only three weeks away on June 26! To celebrate, the heroine, Lori McGillicuddy, is throwing a virtual book release party! She is a little socially challenged, so it would mean a lot to her if you went over to say hi (but DON'T tell her I said that about her because she will FREAK).

Ideas Aren't Always Easy...

Sigh.

The ideas/proposals I was working on for a new romantic comedy didn't fly with my editor. Bummer. I am still developing some other ideas, and am working on a few other projects (not romantic comedy stuff), but I'm pretty sad that I probably won't spend this summer writing my next Simon Pulse Romantic Comedy. You see, I wrote both Dancing Queen and Prom Crashers over the summer months (in 2005 and 2006), and I was sort of looking forward to making it an annual tradition. Who knows? Maybe something will spark and I'll get my next Ro Com going...but until then, I have to turn my writing time to other stuff.

I just wanted to share this not-as-great news, since it seems like a lot of my author buddies on this blog and I tend to share exciting, positive updates on our writing lives. But I wanted to bring in the other side of the story and make sure it's clear that it's not always as easy as it might sound. We go through ideas and ideas and ideas, then drafts and drafts and drafts, and sometimes nothing comes of it. What our fine readers out there eventually buy is just one tiny piece of the stuff we writers are working on. There are a million behind-the-scenes hours of work before we even get to the fun part of writing the book that will someday be published.

So if you're an aspiring writer, remember to keep plugging away, even when it seems like nothing will ever happen. We all have tons of failures, and eventually (with luck) all those rejections and lame ideas and bad drafts will end with a shining success. And that's what makes it worth the work. So, of course, my head is still spinning with more and more ideas, and hopefully in the next few weeks or months or ... whenever ... I'll come up with a fun new idea and will get to start working on my next romantic comedy. Stay tuned.

One quick note of good news before I sign off: I just found out that Prom Crashers went into a fourth printing after only a few months on shelves. So, Readers, you rock! Thanks for buying the book!

Later,
E.

who are you?

"Whether we are describing a king, an assassin, a thief, an honest man, a prostitute, a nun, a young girl, or a stallholder in a market, it is always ourselves that we are describing." -- Guy de Maupassant

*

Anyone who knows me well and reads A NOVEL IDEA invariably says, "Oh Aimee, Norah is so...you." And it's true -out of all my published novels thus far, Norah is the character who is closest to my true self -- the bookish, romantic (but mildly deluded) city girl who often makes a fool out of herself for the sake of love. Some key differences are that Norah is an older, not a younger sister; Norah grew up in Brooklyn, I in Queens; and (for better or worse) Norah's parents are a lot less involved in her life than my parents were when I was growing up.

But the novel I just finished writing --THE YEAR MY SISTER GOT LUCKY (my first hardcover--out from Scholastic in December 07!) has a character who is so me it's ridiculous. Her name is Katya and, like me, she is curly-haired, a ballet dancer, and has a close, complex relationship with her older sister. That's what the novel is about actually -- the two sisters, and how they change when they move to a small town. It was such a fulfilling experience, writing this book, but because it's so personal, it also gave me the most trouble. It's funny how when we write characters that are NOT us, there's a greater sense of freedom, a sense of play -- less investment. When our books are semi-autobiographical, there's more weight, more at risk.

But aren't all our characters versions of ourselves? I love the above quote by one of my favorite authors (if you haven't read his short stories--you must--they're fabulous exercises in economy and surprise endings). I like to think that some of my characters are not even a slight version of myself -- but, really, how can that be? They come from me, after all. It's like trying to deny that your biological children share your genes.

What do other authors think? Are most of your characters versions of yourselves? Or do you consciously try to separate yourself from the people who populate your fictional worlds?

Hope everyone is relishing in the warmth!

xo

Aimee

In Cannes, no one can hear you snore....

No, joke, it's the real city that never sleeps. Silly me decided to catch some shut-eye the night before Noah's premiere, and missed...wait for it...an IMPROMPTU MIDNIGHT CONCERT by U2! Of course N got to see it in full, since his idea of beauty sleep is to stagger in at 5am after a 3am technical screening.

Not that I blame him. I'd be wired, too.

These were both the longest and the shortest seven days of my life. I'm exhausted, and I wasn't even the one in the biz, running to and fro from official Meetings and whatnot. I got to lounge on the beach while N pitched future projects.

Parties? Why, yes. Every day. At least a million, a thousand of which N really wanted to attend. Not for "fun," mind you, but to chat people up. You think I'm kidding. These parties were about as lighthearted and festive as the sales conferences we used to have back at my corporate job, once upon a time. I sipped Champagne while everyone else talked shop. (Being a writer? At Cannes? Is incredibly frustrating. There is no such thing as small talk, for real. If you can't further their film, NO ONE wants to schmooze. Thankfully, the bars are always open). But don't feel too sorry for me. I got to drink cafe au lait and people watch. I got to read. I got to attend glamorous red carpet premieres!

Speaking of which...the day of Tehilim's premiere was spectacular, save for the fact that we all had to shake ourselves out of bed around 8am (again, this was easier for me than for Noah). We met Step-Ma and Pa Harlan at the Grand Hotel for caffeine and sustenance (even though we were too nervous to eat), took a bajillion pics with the cast and crew, and then we were off!

Wives and girlfriends were relegated to walking the red carpet together, separate from the actual people who actually, you know, created the film. Go figure. Nonetheless, the carpet itself was red, and dazzling, and intimidating, and amazing. We were ushered into the VIP section. Once inside, we could watch the outside activities onscreen. I saw Raphy being interviewed (boy is humble. Seriously), and I saw Noah grinning alongside his colleagues. We all smiled so hard I was afraid our cheeks would fall off (they didn't).

I won't spoil the movie for you, but to say that it's quietly devastating, nuanced and moving. We've heard rumors of a few distributors sniffing around, but let's not jinx anything.

After the show it was a cocktail party, photo call (not for me, despite my lovely pink shoes), and press conference. And at night it was the official, Arte-sponsored soiree. A proper soiree, on a boat and all. Guess who was docked next door.

Sharon Stone.

Sharon Stone!

Other highlights of the week include: meeting Fisher Stevens (of "Short Circuit" fame), attending the premiere of "Paranoid Park" and getting to see supercool YA Author and friend Blake Nelson walk the carpet, attending a black tie premiere with Noah that was so wretched people jeered aloud (serious, MAJOR jeering), reading good and mostly-good reviews of "Tehilim," hearing every single person at the festival congratulate Noah on the film, eating a ham and cheese crepe at 4am yesterday, after successfully navigating a lukewarm villa party in the hills on the outskirts of Cannes, and lots of other cool stuff that I'm totally forgetting.

The French? They enjoy their pizza. Another thing we have in common.

Other sightings include: Brett Ratner, Karl Lagerfeld, Rosario Dawson, Brad Pitt (on the red carpet jumbotron), Roman Polanski, Jeremy Piven, and some extremely skinny Asian woman who posed for a zillion pics before "Paranoid Park." No idea who she is. But obviously, she is Important.

I had more notes, but lost them at some point (where? How? Keep an eye on Page Six for me, willya?). Suffice it to say that it was a fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm so thrilled that I got to do it, and got to do it with Noah.


Of course, we're so exhausted that I don't think I need to go back until the next time he has a film in competition. Which I'm sure isn't too terribly far off.

We're at the Four Seasons Provence this weekend, keeping up with the theme of being much more fabulous than we actually are. It's the exact opposite of Cannes: green, serene, private. Tomorrow we visit a Medieval town and then hit the spa, but for now, N is passed out on the couch still clutching his magazine. This is both adorable, and also exciting, as I now have WIRELESS ALL TO MYSELF! The French pronounce it "Wee-Fee." Hee.

Saturday it's back to Paris, and on Tuesday, the Paris premiere. There's not enough espresso in the world...not that I'm complaining.

Kids Rock!

I had the greatest day yesterday. I spent the entire day in a school in New Jersey talking to kids. It was part of the school's young authors day, and I had the opportunity to talk to readers from kindergarten straight up to sixth grade about everything from their wishes and dreams, to how to write a book, to whether or not I was rich and famous. It was so much more fun than just doing a signing or a reading, because I had 45 minutes with each grade, and I really got to connect with the kids in a way you don't get to do through a quick smile, photo op, and signature. What I discovered is that there are plenty of eager readers out there, and that we will have a lot of competition in the next few years--these kids really want to be authors.

And they're going to be great authors. Contrary to popular belief, these elementary school kids aren't just into princesses, American Idol, and the Yankees. They wanted to know if the books were printed on recycled paper, and whether or not Katie Kazoo would ever turn into a president during one of her switcheroos and stop the war in Iraq. (If only it were that easy!)

Amazingly enough, some of the fifth and sixth graders had already read my teen books Love & Sk8 and Dawn's Early Light. That was a little frightening, since I'm not sure some of the subject matter's on target for them. Let's just say Angie in Love & Sk8 doesn't have quite the same hobbies as Katie Kazoo, y'know. Still, it was proof that if you can get a kid to love your books from a young age, they're a fan for life.

You guys have to hit the schools as often as you can. Not only will it provide you with plenty of fodder for your future books, it'll give you hope for the future.

xxoo

Nancy

No clothes for you!

After yet another failed shopping trip yesterday, I have come to the conclusion that I am not able to buy the following items, and I could save myself the trouble of trying them on:

-Things that are long. I am short. The logic of the tunic, it escapes me. The hemline intended for hip length hits at my knees, and the sexy vee of the neckline shows my belly button. "Layer a tank top under it," you say?

-Things that need to be layered. Why are layered fashions for summer invented in the frozen tundra and shipped to Alabama? Occasionally you will see people around here actually wearing them. Either these people never go outside, or they are naive and also sweaty.

-Things that are not marked down. I am my mother's daughter, and my mother grew up on a farm in rural Alabama. Money was tight. She and her siblings did not have toys. They played with ducks. Real ones. They staged a lot of duck weddings with a goose as the preacher and chickens as bridesmaids. I am not making this up.

-Things that will no longer fit if I gain five pounds. My son has a birthday coming up soon, there will be cake left over, and it is illegal in Alabama to throw away perfectly good cake. I want to set a law-abiding example for my son. Last year I tried to outsmart myself by freezing the leftover cake. I am not sure for what occasion you would pull out, thaw, and serve one half of a birthday cake decorated like a NASCAR dashboard, but at least it would not be thrown away, and it would be relatively inaccessible for snacking. Or so I thought at first. As it turns out, frozen cake is delicious and not all that hard to cut with a sharp knife.

-Things I do not understand. There is a complex wraparound shirt popular now with ties in odd places. Stacey London should host a show called Are You Smarter Than a Tenth Grader? on which teens explain to non-teens how to tie the straightjacket shirt and how to secure their hair in a disheveled bun using two pencils.

Death is Part of Life

Man, I would love to be able to post something cheerful, but bad news first. My mother-in-law did die a month ago, and I forgot to post here. After 25 years of marriage, Jean and I were very close. Then yesterday we had to put down our 16-year-old Pointer, Bessie. Although she'd been failing for quite a while, I never dreamt it would be as tough as it was. Coming so soon after Jean's death, it was a double whammy. My daughter Sarah is making an urn for Bessie's remains in her pottery class, and that will be comforting to have around. We still have two more dogs, since we haven't got a lick of sense.

Something cheerful: We're all going to Jekyl Island in two weeks for my little brother's wedding. He was married for 18 years before, raised his kids, and bailed on a troubled marriage held together by spit and chicken wire. His fiance is a real doll, and this wedding will be the family reunion we haven't had in a long time. Jekyl Island (not sure if I spelled that right) is off the coast of Georgia a bit south of better-known Hilton Head Island. My two kids fit in perfectly age-wise with his three daughters, resulting in 16, 17, 19, and two 20-year-old cousins. The three older girls are bringing their boyfriends, and my brother and I spent about half-an-hour yesterday trying to figure out proper sleeping arrangements. Too much! But life does go on.

CG

Aggressive Acts of Kindness

I am the fortunate recipient of an aggressive act of kindness.

There’s a beautiful woman who lives by me. Her name is Drienie and she’s from South Africa. She’s a columnist and writes lovely articles and feel-good stories. Like me, she is a very busy lady. Yesterday, she called me and said, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes to watch your boys so you can write.”

You see, my life has been such that I haven’t been able to sit down and write for ages. Writers will know how frustrating this can be, especially when you’re really excited about a certain project (or multiple projects) but have to walk around pretending to be normal when in reality your head is about to burst with all the creative ideas stuck inside.

Drienie came to my house, arms full of groceries and treats, and shooed me into my office. She meant business! My boys were so excited to see her, and they made Krispy treats and paper airplanes and played ping pong and laughed themselves silly.

I got so much done. It was amazing. My faith in myself as an author was rejuvenated in just one afternoon. And what’s more, she’s coming again next week. My boys are ecstatic, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me that someone would do this for me.

We’re all busy. We all have too much to do. We all have good intentions.

Don’t wait to be asked. Don’t wait for the perfect time. Just do it. Be aggressive!

Has someone done something over and beyond for you lately? Or have you done something special for a friend? I’d love to hear about it!

Paris, Je T'aime

Pardon my French. Or rather, lack thereof.
I cannot believe that as of 9pm tomorrow night
(fingers crossed that Air India runs a tight ship!),
Noah and I will be en route to the Cannes film
festival.

We've spent the last month or so in preparation--Noah
scheduling meetings and buying passes and phone cards,
me hitting the gym and the Crest Whitestrips obsessively. It's not every day that a nice Jewish girl from New Jersey gets to walk the red carpet....

Although we have both been busting our butts at work
(Noah has been dealing with the marketing company he
just acquired, and I have been scrambling to finish up
my semester at Vermont), we've also had a lot of play
time lately, too. Because our birthdays fall in the
same week, we get to live it up for several days in a
row (okay, fine, they're only three days apart--April
26th and April29th, but what can I say? We like to
live large). Last year, Noah took me to Paris for the
big 3-0. This year, when a friend asked me if
we were doing anything special for our birthdays, I
replied, "well, nothing as good as a trip to France."
She reminded me that we were going to Cannes.

Oh, right. Cannes. In the south of France.

I don't speak the language, alas. Not a word. But this
is a culture gap that I can't wait to bridge.

Wish us luck and wish me tan! We'll have lots of great
pictures to post when we get back.
Now, I must be off to start packing....