On the Town With Molli Brown

Right now, it is weeks later, Cali is burning and I'm sitting in a hotel in Northern New Jersey, drinking Orangina and watching Perfect Strangers.

But I have to tell you about my Saturday Night with the Ladies.
Our Parents went away for a long weekend and left me in charge of two teenagers, and you might think that's the worst idea ever, but you can shut the hell up cause I can be very responsible sometimes when I try really hard.

Friday night we'd stayed in with Chinese and movies, so Saturday I wanted to go out,out,out! I was pretty well recovered from my pneumonia by then and feeling itchy. But this was tricky, where to go? There's really not much for underagers in our part of So. Cal. Anyplace that had live music also had alcohol, and I wouldn't be able to get the girls in, movies are freakin' expensive (after popcorn and all that jazz, you're talkin' 50 bucks to take 2 girls and myself to a movie. Movies used to be a goddamn nickel and you got a cartoon and a news reel. That's what wrong with America today.)
Shan wanted to go to a hookah bar, which is I guess the hot new hangout for all her hoodlum friends, despite that they should be too young to smoke hookahs in anycase. I referred her back to my afore mentioned pneumonia. The last thing I wanted to fill my newly un-infected lungs with was a whole lot of scented tobacco smoke, no matter how delicious triple apple may be. And didn't I quit smoking (again) 3 weeks ago? I vaguely remember that, and, oh yeah, you kids are too young to smoke!
So that was out. After much deliberation (and lectures on my part about Shan's makeup, and how I didn't want to go out on the town with Tammy Faye Baker 2.0) We decided to head toward Riverside for some dinner and a Drive-in Movie, cause it was within my budget and also I'm a sucker for Drive-ins.

Despite my trepidations, Belle turned out to be a good driver, (she just got her license) even on the freeway, and we got to Riverside without incident. Now, where to eat? I am starving. Belle wants Sushi. Shan hates fish. I want tacos. (I always want tacos.) We pass a place that says Pacific Cafe and also says Sushi. I think the cafe part means things besides Sushi, and that everybody will be happy. We go in. It is empty. A teeny tiny Japanese lady sits us down, comes back in 5 minutes with menus, and take our drink orders. The whole time we where there, she consistently thought the 3 of us were 2 of us. Belle and I got place settings, Shan didn't. Belle and Shan got their drink orders taken, I didn't. Shan and I got our food orders taken, Belle didn't. I found this absolutely hilarious. So, we look at menus, its allll Sushi. Shan's getting upset, Belle decides she doesn't think she can eat Sushi after all, I still want freakin' tacos, but now we're sitting and we're the only people in the joint and this little Japanese grandma is bowing at us and asking what we want, and, yeah. So I order some spicy tuna, Shan sees a thing on the menu that says "stuffed potato." When she asks Grandmother what's in it, the woman brings her a dinner/app. menu with all sorts of non-Sushi items on. I'm trying not to crack up all over the place, Shan orders some sort of chicken kabob, we eat fast and high-tail it out of there.

We still have 3 hours to kill before the movie, so we start walkin' around. I still want tacos, but the Ladies are over food for the moment. Belle sees Le Sex Shoppe on the corner and says, "Lets go there!" These kids have as low an opinion of my sense of responsibility as ya'll do.
No,no,no. No Sex Shoppe. Keep walkin' Ace.
I'm feeling like I could use a drink right now, but again, responsibility gets the better of me. I remember a funky cool coffee house I used to go to, and decide caffeine will have to do, and I drag them over there. Shan resents all the walking, because she is wearing her "tall shoes."

Now we're at the coffee bar. There's a long line and only one kid working. There's some spaced-out trip hop on the radio and a lot of hipsters on couches and around tiny tables. The wall across from the counter is lined with old books and local art, and the lone kid working has a nice smile and an easy manner. "Do they only have coffee?" Says Shan, making a face. The huge menus above the counters attest to the fact that they have much more than coffee. Shan gets coffee anyways, some sort of mocha raspberry affair. Belle gets a fancy latte too, and then they both decide they are hungry again, and now I'm buying caramel brownies and ham and cheese croissants. Notice the complete lack of tacos. I get a plainjane coffee and we sit a bit. Shan's launching into a tirade about how busy and chaotic the place is and how do writers sit in these kinds of places for hours and hours anyways, when a Vampire walks in.

Picture a man in his mid to late thirties. Aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, slanty, amber wolf eyes, long, flowing locks of flouncy hair, clearly wearing makeup (eye-liner and foundation) long fingernails painted black, big silver rings, black leather garb (not clothes, garb.) way way too warm for California, big silver cross on a long long chain around his neck. A right-out-of-Anne-Rice freakin' Vampire. He orders a coffee and a ham n cheese. I'm not fooled one bit. Vampires pretend to eat people food all the time. I seent it. I point him out to the ladies. Belle giggles. Shan flips out and she thinks we're going to die. "We're pretty much dead," she says. So he's waiting for his ham n cheese, and groovin' on this triphop. Like, he's doing some weirdo dance with his arms. "You see!!!!!!" says Shan, "He heard you and now he's putting a spell on us!"
He was putting a spell on us. We had to leave the coffee shop and find our car, so we could go to the drive-in. Riverside is very small. We parked in the middle. We walked no more than 8 blocks. We couldn't find our car. It wasn't missing. We just couldn't find it. We had been confounded by a level 2 confusion spell! We walked around and around for an hour. Belle was all caffeinated and sugared up. She was floating about 10 feet ahead and 2 inches above us, singing to herself. Shan was stomping around in her "tall shoes," wailing about our impending doom. I'm not scared of vampires and I like walkin' around at night, so I was inventing conversations in my head to have with Bean about how I sugared up her children and got them confounded and then sucked by Vampires. And also lost the car. In that conversation, Bean said, "Are you on drugs? How much have you been drinking?"
How is it that I'm always in the most trouble when I'm sober?
Then it was getting spooky out, because we were in between some high buildings that echoed, and there were hoodlums on the corner, and street toughs on the steps. At least that's what Shan was crying about. And then, we were in a shadowy courtyard, with a tall tall luminous fountain at the end of it. Like moths, we made for the light and then, a voice high above me says, "Good evening ladies."
"Hi-hello!" I squint and look up. About 3 stories above me, a smiley man all in white hovered beatifically in the darkness.
"Nice night out, isn't it?" said the angel.
"Very beautiful!" I was smiling real big.
"You ladies enjoy yourself, be careful and have a wonderful evening," said the angel. He was actually a town hall security guard, and he was more standing on the 3rd floor balcony than hovering in the darkness, but he was still a angel, cause we got to the fountain and turned right, and there, in a pool of streetlight was our car. The Vampires paltry spell was no match for the magic of the Night Watchman! Haha!
And then we were free. We went on to have many more adventures that night, but that is top secret lady business.
Enjoy your evening. Stay away from vampires, it's getting Halloweeny outside.

I Have No Time For Consumption!

Sicksicksicksicksick. Faithful readers, I am currently in Cali, dying of the black lung. Or actually green lung, judging by the appealing pond-scum shade of the slime I am coughing up. Ew. I just grossed myself out. Apologies. I have been living with boys.
So yeah.
In all honesty, I picked up a wicked case of Pneumonia. Gross. But I went to urgent care and got myself some penicillin, so in a few days I should be Aces, and no worries.
Consumption aside, I have been having some awesome good times.
Thursday I flew down to NC for Writers'Forum. Ktbear picked me up at the airport and bought me a sammich. That was spectacular. Then I went to her house to play with Journey Dog and get styled up by Andrea. I looked, if I do say it myself, smokin' hot, which is totally Andrea's doing, even if she did spit on my eyelid. Apparently, that is the price of fashion. Eventually, Martha Mae and Lil Jeffie showed up, and we high-tailed it down to the LBG for the pre-show dinner. At first, we were really excited, because we were confronted by fancy salads, with chicken and strawberries and other weird stuff. We thought, "Man, if our salads are this fancy, dinner should be sweeeeet!" Turns out, the fancy salad WAS dinner. People, I don't even like lettuce. That's OK though, cause I was waaaaaaaaay too nervous to eat much.
I was reading with Carlos Reyes, who is absolutely my favorite living poet, and probably the only man I would marry without significant monetary compensation.

Me and Carlos

Much to my dismay, in the three years since I saw him last, he married someone else. Can you even believe that? This he tells me at dinner right before I am to read. My heart was bruised in a way that only whiskey could cure. I told Martha and she told Jeremy and he arrived 10 minutes before my debut with a hip flask of Jack, and thus, a beautiful friendship was born. I'm still not over Carlos, but I'm considering marrying Jeremy.
So I drank half the whiskey while the introducer was introducing me, and I took the podium glowing with liquid confidence.

Liquid Courage!

I read "Big Smile, Scabby Heart," then "Each Midnight," cause they were short and sweet and "Big Smile's" kinda funny and nervous and I was feeling pretty funny and nervous. And then, (this was another Andrea idea) when I was settling and the whiskey was working its edge-brightening magic, and everybody was easing into the nighttime and the story telling, I hit them with the first 3 pages of "Doll," and just when everybody was leaning in and feeling cold and concerned and hooked, WHA-BAM! Sucker-punched! I left them hangin' and sold like, 7 books right then. Andrea's such a smarty-pants.
So as not to be mean and to brighten things up again and lead into Carlos, I read this wicked-funny poem Peppers and I wrote the week before, called The Passion of the Produce," which is every bit as sexy as you think it might be. Everyone smiled big, I sat down, and finished my whiskey while Ian Pratt made eyes at me from across the room. Well played!

Readin'

Carlos read beautifully, as he always does, and I was so glad I had to go first, so I could sit back and close my eyes and ease into his voice and the soft alcohol and Andrea's warm hands on my shoulders. Reading Carlos, I like his English poems, their sharp-edged, soft hearted images. But I mostly love when he reads in Spanish. The sounds I don't understand make amazing pictures on the backs of my eyelids, dusty, dark, spicy pictures somewhere between deserts and oceans, between dawn and midnight.
If you get the chance to hear Carlos read, you should go, and not just cause I want to marry him.
After all that, my entourage was tuckered out. Even though I was buzzing with mischief, they coaxed me back to the Mabry Manor for some chilled out R&R. It's a good thing too, cause 1)People were getting arrested on campus that night and, with my luck I woulda been amongst them, and 2)I got Pneumonia the next morning.
(Props to Andrea AGAIN for not being among the arrested! Man, that girl was ON IT all weekend.)
The next day we went back to Raleigh and after some relax-o time, threw Lil Jeffie a rather nice birthday party. At his request I cooked up some fish n chips (and it even turned out good, who knew?) And a bunch of peeps came up, and I think there were beers and some kind of ridiculously complicated game for smart people that the majority of us were too drunk to play.

Party People: Martha's Arm, Jeremy, The Girl with Matt, Matt, Andrea, Lil Jeffie's Very Skinny Leg

This is where my memory gets fuzzy. Not from drinking, but from lack of sleep and sickishness. Because at this time I thought the Pneumonia was just a wicked bad cold, and I was trying to solider through. Solidering through turned into talking with Jeremy and Andrea till 3 or 4ish in the am, at which point my voice gave out for good, and I put myself to bed on Martha's floor. After that I seem to recall a lot of transferring from floor to bed to floor to bed again. I have no idea what that was all about.
And then it was time for breakfast. Martha found us a for-real diner, who knew they had those in Raleigh? Breakfast was great. Ktbear joined us up again, and we all went to some lake to walk around. I wanted to walk around the lake real bad, because we had a puppy with us and all. But then we were walking and I thought maybe I was going to die.
But I didn't die, and then there was diner at Lil Jeffie's Mom's house. It was delicious I'm pretty sure. Spaghetti. I dunno. I was concentrating on not dying, and also not telling people I thought I was dying, cause I was pretty sure I wasn't really that sick and only just being a baby. Then Ktbear took me back to her house to take care of me, cause she kinda guessed that maybe I had one foot in the grave. Yay for Kt, and Journey Dog who is seriously the world's best cuddler. Andrea kept Martha and Lil Jeffie occupied, and everybody was happy.
Sunday morning I was on a plane to Cali and that was fairly excruciating. I was just trying to keep my eardrums in my ears.
Bean and Papabear scooped me up and brought me home to chicken soup and a basket full of of drugs.
And that's been pretty much it. I'm recovering slowly but surely. We had a teeny party for Papabear's 50th yesterday, and then I went to bed. I didn't even eat cake or drink any vodka, which should impress upon you how crap-tastik I feel. Who gets Pneumonia anyways? Ugh, I feel so lame.
Still, for most of the weekend, I think I partied like a champ. And it was fun. Way too short a visit, but superfun. Who doesn't love Lil Jeffie? I can't think of a single person. That kid is the bees knees.

Fever

This room is full of sleeping people. 11:19 on a Saturday night. Its like a spell was set over them, and I am awake alone in a bubble of non-time. Wide awake, I'm slipping in and out of dreamscapes, a breathing city like a spider in the center of a shivery web, a dream high that is alicefalling far underground and spinning in the center of a changing city all at once, spun in and out of upsidedown, the darkness breathing with unseen sleepers and memories, people remembered, taking the color of ghosts, vibrating my edges with their urgency. One half a fractured heart straining to dig up what the other half has taken pains to bury. The air today is too wet, too much like a breath. The city is a swallowing mouth. Being buried is like drowning and drowning is like being swallowed whole. Time has teeth. This feels like that sort of fragmentation. Chewed up. Caught. Stuck between time's front teeth. That is a disgusting metaphor. The wetness, the breathing, the strange smells in this room make it feel like that. Someone left a pack of cigarettes. I don't smoke anymore. I'm going to right now. Maybe the door, when I open it, will look onto a different city, a night less drowning.

Dropped an hour somewhere, though I'm surprised not more than that. My body is telling me 4 am, but the clock is saying something else again. Everyone is still sleeping and not likely to wake up again, and unless Stephen J. comes home or the phone rings I might be stuck in this one hour all night, with the same song tumbling around inside my skull and iwishiwishiwish i was some sort of musician cause then I could get it outside of myself but the best I can come up with is trying to hum it to which Robbie says, all day, "Stop that, it's creepy."
My voice is too high pitched, he says, and small, like a demented kindergartener. It's a humming, ticking sort of song though, like a bunch of bees in a music box, and there's a language to it that I either don't know or can't remember and to try to compose other words doesn't work because they simply aren't the right ones. The buzzing is in my fingertips too, and my teeth, perhaps I should take something to help me sleep, why is everyone so so sleepy? I feel like I could run, or go to a show, I like the night life, baby, or climb through an empty city, exploring things. It's nights just like this when not driving is the worst thing in the world.
I don't think he's coming home. I don't think the phone will ring, I think I might have fallen deep into a hole and I m not here at all, maybe still falling, or up and off the planet. Last night I saw the most perfect stars and the Milkyway in a ribbon cause I made Rob go outoutout of the house, its only one am we've been so restless, itching underneath the skin like something's coming and how come nobody seems to feel that but me? After years of waiting, nothing came. Manic thoughts again, it builds and ebbs, I try to suppress everything always, keep myself in tight but I am leaking all over the place and now my heart is full.
Disintegration of the unseen hour. And the only questions people ever seem to ask: "Are you on drugs? How much have you been drinking?"
The answer, always, not nearly, nearly enough.

More Awesome Than Sad

Stephen J. is mowing the lawn. That and the window fan are the pleasantest of white noises combined, and I am getting sleepy. Which could also be the cold medicine, cause I have the sniffles, and I accidentally overdosed myself on Robitussin, cause I didn't read the label correctly. Didn't they used to make After School Specials about that sort of thing? Man, whatever happened to After School Specials?
What have I been up to? Being crabby/sleepy mostly. I've been up to some other things too I guess, but all of them only half-assed. These include: landscaping, drinking, Meeting New and Interesting people, working on my next book, working on publicity for the the current book, cutting paper snowflakes, looking for for-real jobs, learning to box, making mad mixes, wishing people belated happy birthday, and drinking more water.
One time I went hiking, and one time I helped Barry Kriebel edit a script for a play. And one time I made Stephen J. kill a baby squirrel, which was horrible. But it was only because the baby squirrel was already dying, and I didn't want it to suffer all day on the hot tin roof. It was an act of mercy. Except that I made Steve do it, which makes me sort of a jerk. In my defense, had I been home alone, I would have done it myself, but squirrel killing is boy business, and, since there was a boy home, yeah.
On the opposite side of sad, dead, baby squirrels though, we have that my book is finished!! Finished for real finished. You can go to amazon.com right now, and search Molli Rocket, and click the thing and by it, and it will come in the mail, right to your house! If that is not awesome, I don't know what is.
In fact, it is so awesome, I'm gonna end this post right now, so you can go do that, and bask in the awesomeness. Do it.

Everything and the Kitchen Sink!

It's been a ridiculous month. Even moreso than the usual ridiculous. Living with my boys is kinda the best ever, when I am actually living here. They don't even make me sleep on the couch! I have a for-real bed, well, mattress. Under the stairs. Between the basement and the bookcase. It's a Molli Potter sort of affair. But still! Not a couch. So when I am actually here I work a handful of days landscaping or an hour or two massaging. The rest of the time I am split between riveting social engagements and domestic goddessary. Laugh if you must. But it is very true. Between bouts of drinking I keep a clean house, cook fabulous dinners, and occasionally sew and cut hair. When it gets winter I'm so going to take up knitting, you just watch me!
So maybe that all sounds so boring, and you're so bored, and you're thinking, I'm going to give up on reading this blog forever!
I don't think you should do that. You haven't even heard about the orgasmic Muse concert I went to, or the Tuesday afternoon S&M session I had in New York. Or the Dyke bar in Boston.
I told you, between riveting social engagements. Duh. Pay attention.

So. Since I last talked to you, I moved in with some boys. Robbie and Stephen J., Drunk at our local bar

We get drunk a lot and throw fancy dinner parties when they are not working 10 hours a day, 7 days a week.
What is it like to be a kept woman, you ask me? Freakin' awesome. If I can rock this indefinitely, I totally win.

When Robbie and Steve are working forever and I get really bored, I play with Sam and Emily and Simone and Lucky Penny, Blondie, Justin and Abby, Lauren Rose, Chris Butler, Peppers, Kriebel, Midget, and Heather and her family. That is a nice mix of couples, siblings, single girls, working girls, homos, and children. Occasionally I even see my own family. I like to have a lot of options.
Like a China Buffet of friends. Sometimes Joey Haughton comes up, and things get really spicy.
Even with all that going on though, sometimes you just need some fresh blood. So when Peppers called me up and said "Come to New York this weekend," I said, "No." Because I hate New York. It is my nemesis city that is trying to kill me.
But then she said, "I have a ticket to see Muse at MSG....!" in her "I'm taunting you into the best worstideaever ever," voice. So then I said, "I'll see you tomorrow!" took the train up, had the "best burger in New York" at some Irish Pub (it really was freakin' delicious. Quite possibly they were not even lying) got drunk on her rooftop and yeah.

Peppers drunk on her rooftop

The show... I dunno how to even tell you about the show. It was even better than I had dreamed it the 2 nights prior. How do three people make so much noise? How does MSG get such pure resonance? How can I not have fallen in love with the 65 year old man in front of me, rocking out all by himself to 'Apocalypse Please'? How does Peppers stay so beautiful with her eyes all squinched up and her mouth all shouty and the sweat from all day dampening her curls? How does the cheesiness of people replacing lighters with a thousand illuminated cellphones make you feel like you are in the swirling bottom of a jar full of fireflies. I have been to hundreds of shows. I have heard crowds far larger than the one at MSG, but I have never felt the volume of sound physically topple onto me like a drunken wave when a crowd chants for an encore. Holy sweet Jesus. The perfect concert-going experience. The kind of show that lifts you right out of your body and into a pure stream of sound for 2 hours. A natural high better than any drink or drug I've ever tried, better than most sex I've ever had.
And people wonder why I obsess over musicians.

Peppers and me, in love with Musicians

We came out of MSG into a New York night that was as wet and smelly and hot as a garlic-spaghetti kiss, and I didn't eve care because for the first time in my whole life, New York had done right by me. We went home and I went to bed as soon as I could, to make the feeling last.
The next day, my new NY buddy Kit came over,

Kit, gazing optimistically into the future

I made awesome fajitas, and we all watched a movie and played around with leather belts. An unexpected and throughly amusing end to a fabulous visit. Molli Rocket 10000, NY, nothin'.

I had a wonderful time and a welt across my ass for a week to remember it by. Life is good.

After that, a week of house-sitting for the Cunningham's back in the Philly area. Pool, hot tub, big kitchen, central air and digital cable. Need I say more? I pretended to be a silly fancy lady all week. We through a dinner party pretty much every night and Heather brought the kids over

Nolan and Veronica. Yes, Veronica is in a kangaroo suit

to play in the pool and all in all, it was a totally fun, totally wholesome week. See? I keep balance by alternating between 2 extremes. It's the see-saw approach to Zen.

I left the Cunningham's to head up to Boston for a week with Andrea. That also was a whirlwind of activity. She picked me up in Providence on Saturday, and on Sunday we made the drive up to Burlington for this kid Nick's birthday. Burlington is a weird place. It is a lot like San Fransisco, excepting that it is in Vermont. So you feel weird. Still, that started out alright, we were in this fly Irish pub... lately, I've been spending a lot of time in Irish pubs... anyways, things were going pretty alright until people started showing up for the birthday party. When I overheard a dude say (in reference to me and my girl) "I don't really care which one of them I end up with, I mean, they're both pretty cute. I just wanna get laid..." yeah, I was pretty much off that crowd. I mean, none of those dudes were even cute. I was like, in a party of about 12 dudes, and I didn't make out with anybody. Now that's saying something.
So Vermont was kinda icky, and I am re-thinking going up there to investigate the Vermont secession from the Union, cause, I don't really want to be surrounded by a bunch of pseudo-San Fransisco jerkoffs.

From there, Andrea dropped me off in Greenfield, which is a crazy little town in western Mass. I liked the giant sign outside the local bar that said, "Smoke Free. By FORCE!" It made me smile real big. So I went from there to an even smaller and more remote town to see miss Melody and her little ones. That was kinda awesome, and a lot like being at summer camp. I jumped on a giant trampolene and shot a bow and arrow and ate hippy food, and man, it was awesome. I wished I coulda stayed longer, but their house is under construction and I had to get back to Bean Town to get some work done. Andrea and I are working on a very exciting project. You don't know what it is, but you are excited anyways, I promise.
So we did our work and I met some cool horses and dogs, and a cat. And I went horseback riding! You're having a hard time picturing it, aren't you? Well, my tongue is sticking out in your direction because Andrea says I'm kinda a natural with horses, so there! I can be rustic. I'm not silly and fancy all the time.
So then we went down to Jamaica Plain for some awesome dinner at my Aunt and Uncles' and then we were off to meet Holly and Nebraska for some Karaoke. Except we got lost. When we finally got found, we were walking to the bar and Andrea says, "Are there a lot of girl couples out here?" And there were. So then we walked in the bar, and it was nothing but girl couples. Turns out Karaoke is actually, in this case, Queeroke (which i don't think really works as a clever play on words. Try and say it. It's pretty awful. But alls I could come up with to replace it was kargayoke, and that's even worse).
Well Andrea was kinda thrilled to be in this gay bar and she wanted to play around and pretend that we were a couple, which I would have been down for except that it totally interfered with my goal to get pretty girls to buy me drinks. Andrea is a pretty girl, but the bar only took cash and she had none. I had to buy my own beer.
Can you even believe that?
In a lesbian bar.
Nothing like a good friend to fuck up your free drink groove. So yeah. I don't have any scandalous stories either. If you are upset about this, take it up with Andrea. It is entirely her fault.

I have no pictures of that entire trip, because I forgot to put a memory card in my camera. You'll have to use your imagination, oh dear!

So then we drove back to Philly. My girl drives like a maniac and I was afraid for my life the whole time, but we made it without arrest or collision, so, I suppose all is well. I spent the weekend getting drunk with Stephen J., and teased and abused by both boys cause "We're in that stage of missing you where it is necessary to be mean." On Saturday night we went to see Blondie in a Barry Kriebel production of "Dog Sees God." The script was horrible but the acting was amazing, and I have to grudgingly say it is the best BK production I have seen since "The Crucible."
After the play we found ourselves at yet another Irish pub, getting drunk, and yeah, I've pretty much been drunk since Saturday, with Monday being the day of most ridiculousness, due to the appearances of, in this order, Joey Haughton, Chris Butler, and Peppers throughout the day. Meem showing up for dinner was the icing on the cake. I almost died when she built a pyramid out of Robbie's French fries, and then put them all back on his plate. This is the lady that gave birth to me. And you wonder how I turned out this way.
When Peppers and I finally went to bed at 5 am, I felt happier than I've been in a really long time, which is saying a lot since I've been pretty consistently happy lately.
If you're still with me at this point in the post, bless you but you need to get out more.
And if you are wondering about the book, it's supposed to be going to print this week. But I still haven't been given a release date or pre-order information. I'm about to write them an email right now, just as soon as I make me another martini.
I hope that keeps you satisfied for now, because, it is becoming more and more obvious I suck at posting. I still love you though. If you came over, I'd have Robbie make you pancakes.

The Kitchen Sink

Invalids, Drunks, Hobos, Dogs and Beans

Wellity, wellity, wellity.

What's been going on?

Thuglife is making a slow but steady recovery. We had some difficult days together, but things get slowly better. My sister informs me that after this weekend, my services will no longer be necessary, and I am free to go. This is fairly excellent for everyone involved.

Everybody is beginning to piece their old live back together, which leaves me free to get started on my new life.

I have some ideas about that, but most of them are half-baked at best. I'm waiting on some input from some key players, before I finalize any decisions.

However, I DO know for sure that I will be spending a few weeks in the vicinity of the couch of Robbie and Steve, before bouncing up to the Boston area to spend some time on the couches of Andrea and then Miss Melody: http://littlehomeblessings.blogspot.com/ (yeah, I'm not so savvy at the link making). Who has a little boy I have yet to meet.

Also also also! Guess who is giving a reading of her new book at St. Andrews on Thursday, September the 27th? Yeah man, I think it's me!! Anybody got a couch?

The book production is going very well. Thanks to the mad editing skillz of Noelle H., I get to skip the editing phase of production and jump right to format and cover design, which speeds up the release date by another few weeks and also allows me to keep all my made-up words and creative grammar. How much do I love Publish America this afternoon?

Still no definite release date, but I will keep you posted.

In adventuring news, I've managed to have a few, for all that I don't get out much.

A few Saturdays ago I was looking gorgeous and eating delicious gazpacho at a swanky party for Peter, Philly photographer and all around super-awesome guy, and Sunday last I was looking even more fabulous at Sam and Em's house-warming, which was the fliest party I've been to since the Mojo Conference. I don't remember it too well, but I know there was a heck of a lot of gin and tonics, pina coladas, chocolate martinis (Sam makes the BEST chocolate martinis) and a bottle of Maison Louis Jadot Beaujolais; singing of hymns as if they were drinking songs while passing around said bottle of Beaujolais (I'm serious. 6 drunkards singing Amazing Grace in a Mt. Airy apartment kitchen at 11:30 on a Sunday night. That's my kind of spirituality!); and a lot of making out with my best friend's roommate, brother, and girlfriend. Yeah, I was that girl. But don't worry, the vibe on that score was much more I Love Lucy than, you know, 90210 or whatever the popular nighttime drama is these days. (90210. Could I be more behind the times?) (But in my defense, who has time for T.V. what with all the drinking and kissing that goes on?) So yeah, you want to hit up Sam and Em's next party.

In more sober adventuring, the day after the night of drunken debauchery, Mojo and I found a Hobo camp in Jappy's back yard. I am so not even kidding. Next to Jappy's house is this crazy scary abandoned house. It's pretty much the scariest thing since Muffin's Murder House in NC.

And behind that is this thicket of briers and trees and whatnot.

And I dunno if you can see it, I couldn't see it, but Mojo found this path through there. And he did that dog thing where he went a little ways, and came back, and then went a little ways, saying, "Follow me!" So I did. And look what we found:

So cool!! Now, some nay-sayers, when spoken to on the phone (Stephen J.) tried to convince me that I had not found a Hobo camp at all, but rather a "Q-town teen aged delinquent make-out sight." But I beg the differ.

Note the single solitary chair, flimsily constructed to hold, at maximum, one average-sized Hobo. Note also the relics of bean and tuna-fish cans amid the discarded beer cans. What making-out teenagers eat tuna-fish and beans? And if that's Steve's idea of a good make-out time, I caution you ladies! Lastly, stacks of tires and a broken down truck. I rest my case.

After leaving the hobo camp, Mojo and I discovered a beautiful bean field, where Mojo frolicked and, undoubtedly, the luckless hobo found a days work, and perhaps a glimpse of the purdy bean-farmers daughter, hanging out the laundry, her breasts swelling above her calico dress, her beautiful neck glistening with July sweat.

As a final thought, I will leave you with a picture of my toes, from last weeks relaxo-time, and my favorite picture of the worlds best dog in a field of beans.

Summer is good, and getting better. God bless!

"I Heart Relax-o Time"

That's one of my favorite quotes by April Link, who is a girl I heart.

So Thuglife is feeling much better, which means he is also feeling more crabby and OCD.
He spends a lot of time walking around the house looking for things to unplug (he's got an odd fear of spontaneous electrical fires) and doors to close (he has a thing where he always thinks the doors upstairs are opened. They are never opened).
Last night, I was talkin' to Stephen J. on the phone and stepped outside for a hot minute to smoke a cigarette. (Yes I quit. But anyone who knows me well knows that "quitting" is more of a vacation than a commitment for me.)
So I came back in, and kid was not on the couch where I left him, nor anywhere downstairs. So I went upstairs, where I found him lying on the hardwood floor in the hall. I thought he fell, so I quick hung up on Steve and, trying not to be panicking said, "Whatcha doin' down there, Ace?"
He was picking up teeny tiny little pieces of paper that probably fell out of Jappy's purse, or maybe the laundry basket, a Walmart bag, I don't even know.
He's crawling around on his hands and knees picking this shit up. I mean, seriously, people, I coulda got a broom.
So he is frustrated and antsy and in need of activities, but he is still weak and still in a lot of pain, which makes for the most miserable stage of recovery. Today he had a bunch of appointments though, which got his antsy butt out of the house and left time for me and Jappy to get some much-needed R&R.
We cleaned the house and got our nails done. I have Cammero Red toes and Moody Rockstar purple nails. (Robbie is right, in my heart of hearts, I AM a sillyfancy lady.) We had spicy chicken sammiches for lunch and on the way home, we rescued a turtle.
It was a big, pretty box turtle pokin' along across the road.
Actually, he was probably haulin' ass across the road, but you know how it is with turtles. It was a busy road with a 55 mph speed limit. Little guy never woulda made it. So Jappy stopped and I got out and scooped him up and deposited him safely on the other side. It really was a very pretty turtle with a smooth shell that was dark green with lighter, yellow-green stripes and a few red sploches, and I think if I ever ever actually have a place of my own ever in my life, my painting choices will be turtle inspired.
After that, we watched Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra in Anchors Away, and in a hot minute, I'm gonna go outside and blow bubbles, cause after a week of suffocating humidity and thunderstorms, it is freakin' gorgeous out today.
The evening is supposed to be lovely too, and I'm looking forward to sitting out for a bit watching the fireflies.
Hope y'all are having a nice day too.
If you're not I recommend blowing bubbles, for serious.

Pin in the Map

The couch I am currently residing on is my sisters, in the Q-town, PA.

It's a black leather affair, very stylish.

So once again my life is a tad bit... dishevelled.
I'm bouncing around a lot again and probably will be hard to pin down for the next 6 or so months.
I reckon on being here for at lease a little while. Jappy's man was in a pretty bad wreck and needs some looking after for a bit. I have the great fortune to be jobless at the current moment, so I'm the perfect person for that position. 2 days after the crash I was on a plane with a one-way ticket, a lap-top, and a week's worth of clothes.
The cool thing about being a shiftless gypsy is the flexibility.
I will be here for a bit, until Thuglife's back on his feet. My job description mainly consists of making eggs, blending milkshakes, sweeping up after Mojo, and playing video games. Not to shabby. And I get Sundays to play with Blondie, Lauren and my boys, so that's alright too.
Can I work in some hot hot adventures on the east coast? If I can, you'll hear about it. If I can't, I'll make something up, and you'll hear about that. Either way, you win.

And once my buddy has made a full recovery, oh man! The fun times will not stop! Where will I go next? There is no way to predict this. I could be in Chicago in 2 months. I could be in Oxford. You don't know. I could join the crazy kids in Vermont trying to secede from the union. My whims change on a daily basis. I could go to Las Vegas and get married tomorrow.

Except that I make better eggs than Jappy, and that's all Thuglife can eat right now.
So I'll kick it around here for a bit longer, and I'll be posting to keep you posted on major developments.

Speaking of major developments, my publisher says my book will be available in 6-8 weeks.
6-8 weeks son! God damn that's quick.
So excited.

That's all for now. Kisses!