Dear Pretties. Some Halloweens are dull, I’m not a big Halloween person. I liked them more when I lived in neighborhoods where people came to the door; that’s been awhile. This one looked to be dull, what with its rain and loud 2nd-grade party on tap at 1, but then a package arrived.
Tolstoy, or maybe it was Socrates (or maybe neither) said there are only two stories — “someone takes a journey” and “a package comes to the door.” There’s nothing like a package at the door and everytime I get one I vow to pay it forward. I will this time, I will! My package had some candy and toys for the kids, but also, a signed Wordy Shipmates!
I have issues with Ms. Vowell, you know. I’m not going to kid you. I grew up smart and clever in a red town and I played the exact same xylophone solo in the marching band, so why she gets all the attention I don’t know.
Still, a present! A fun thing to read! There’s an audio copy, too, that goes to A. for his long rides in cars.
Earlier, I worked and was fitted for glasses, in that order. I’m sad to say my book is going very much like the McCain campaign. It’s erratic. I change style / message / substance sometimes twice a day. I pull in characters off the street without vetting them, it’s caused some embarrassment. My book is cranky and tries to use glitz to hide its lack of substance.
I think what’s in order for my book is a guest spot at SNL, I’ll call them today. JM has already got this Saturday, but the week after that I’ll have my book go on. I think it’s just what my book needs. A little levity while it tries to regroup and find its voice again.
30 Rock next.
[Thank you, H.! You're the best.]