Rachael

When you decide the world is too big, and there are too many things on your list to do, and you'll never get to them, and ALL IS LOST, go to bed.

When you get home and the floor – toilet – sinks – counter – dishes – corners – dogs need cleaning and you can't find a place to start, go to bed.

When you think of the word ENTROPY and all that it means, and how your little inside-the-house universe is spinning completely out of your control, and how everything is going to fall apart sooner rather than later, go to bed.

When you know you should write because you're so damn close to the end you can almost hear the exit door flapping in the wind, but the book is at such a sad part that your heart is breaking, and you'll probably never be able to write again, go to bed.

I went to bed this afternoon after a perfectly lovely RWA meeting (it was a good meeting — I didn't see the mean reds sneaking up on me at all). Lala made me go lie down — I wanted to FIX/MAKE/DO all the things, and I was seriously freaking out. So I went to bed. I read for about an hour and then slept for four.

Know what? When I woke up, the world was lovely again. Mean reds gone. Ka-bap. It took me forty-five minutes to put the house to rights (longer to mop the floor after I dropped the milk glass, but oh well), and chaos is again neatly corralled.

I'm even going to write a bit more, too, until Lala gets home, and then I'm going to hang out with her and do something fun and silly like play Zombie Dice, because there is no fun like a game that involves counting brains and shotgun blasts.

TUESDAY:

NorCal folk, Please come see me in Petaluma? Copperfield's, 7pm. I'm really excited.

If you're local, will you consider coming to my reading at Copperfield's in Petaluma in one week? You know me, and I'm convinced that NO ONE WILL COME, and I'll be there all alone, and they, the store that has hosted the Yarn Harlot and all the attendant madness, will look me up and down and say, "Really? That all you got?" 

This is the stuff of nightmares.(Literally.)

So if you come, I promise to read a REALLY juicy section from the new memoir (but I haven't decided which section — those of you who have read it, thoughts? The mama-sweater one? Can an audience take it?). And I will have prizes. And hugs. And we can go for wine afterward (yes! That!)

Copperfield's
140 Kentucky St, Petaluma, CA
 Tuesday September 13th, 7pm

Also, if you can't make it there, I'm launching book three (!) in the Cypress Hollow Series, WISHES & STITCHES and promoting LIFE IN STITCHES in San Francisco next month.

Bookshop West Portal
80 West Portal Ave, San Francisco
 Thursday October 20th, 7pm

Same terror for that, natch. Please come?

Talking about hospice and the little mama over HERE today.

(And quickly, a Digit update for those of you didn't see it on Twitter. Our trip to Vegas was awesome (Cirque du Soleil O! Spa time! Massage!), but while we were gone, we heard from our petsitter that Digit's paw was hurt. We were getting home the next morning, so I took him to the vet first thing. She x-rayed the paw and palpated it (because obviously she has a DEATH wish) and concluded it was sprained. And the way it was sprained? She thought by its positioning, he'd probably gotten it from bap-bapping another animal. Like, perhaps, Clementine, Digit's mortal enemy (she cowers when we say the word Digit as in Here he comes! Watch out!). So this: He sprained his paw beating up a dog. GOOD GOD. As soon as he gets off the pain meds, we're talking about kitty prozac, because that is just ridiculous. Terrible cat.)

Those are the pupils of a cat on Big Meds.

I told you I'd tell you when it was available, and A Life In Stitches is now out digitally (as well as in paper)!

I'm dancing around, throwing confetti made of yarn! (IS there such a thing? There SHOULD be.)

Available for:

Amazon Kindle

Barnes and Noble Nook

Apple iBooks

More yarn confetti, confetti for everyone! (Seriously, I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.)

Digit Update

This week, Digit has created a ruckus and has looked funny while doing it. He got some weird infection in his chin, and had to be anesthetized to fix it. He's now in a cone, but he's feeling much better and we're happy to report that he is just as terrifying to Clementine as ever.

See? I'm torn between thinking he looks like a lion or King Friday XIII.

And now, you know what? WE ARE GOING TO VEGAS. Three years ago, we were going to go — Lala has never been — and we had to cancel, but not this time! I made an appointment for a massage, and I'm going to spend time at the pool with a cold drink in one hand, a book in the other. I'm not a gambler, but I'll probably put some quarters in the machines, and La is interested in checking out the roulette, I believe.

The animals can't wait to get rid of us because their favorite petsitter is coming to stay — she's active in the Bay Area punk scene and we always tell her it's okay to have her friends over. When we come home, our house smells like delcious lentils and later, at live shows, total strangers come up to me and show me pictures they have on their cell phones of our dogs. It's an odd, friendly feeling.

So yep. The book is now officially all the way out, and we're on the road. Oh, heck yeah.

UPDATED TO ADD:

I had no idea How to Knit a Heart Back Home was coming out on audio today, too: Audible link. Now both the first two novels are available that way!

 

And this: If you've read any of my books? Will you consider giving them a review on Amazon/BN, etc? No matter if they're good or bad, reviews are a great thing and make books happy and in turn, make their authors VERY HAPPY. Thank you so much!

It’s late, and I’m moved to write of random things.

1. Christian Louboutin, if I ever liked your shoes (which I did, at a distance, on Oprah’s feet), I do not now. I realize that neither you personally nor your company are responsible for the gajillion spam comments someone makes in your name, but it’s been YEARS now, and they’re still coming, no matter how I block or dodge.

2. Google +, I’m almost convinced for this reason alone: my chones circle. You know what chones are, right? They’re underwear. My chones circle is comprised of people in front of whom I don’t mind if my underwear shows, friends who would tell me I had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe and then laugh with, not at, me. THOSE people. (Okay, they might laugh at me.) You have them in your life. They’re ones you can wail to without worrying you won’t look professional. See, Twitter used to be that for me, but then I got all writer-ly and now I have to make sure I spell things right and sit up straight and always wear my seat belt (not that I don’t always wear it — I do — it’s a compulsion, actually. But you know what I mean).

(Of course, last night I took an Ambien before bed and OH GOD, I ended up Ambien-tweeting! Don’t look now, because I deleted the incriminating tweets WHEN THEY WERE POINTED OUT TO ME, but I was sending love sonnets to Armistead Maupin via tweet (which he deserves because he’s awesome but OH GOD). I could not make this up. And I posted a picture of my nightstand because I thought it was GORGEOUS.  Please keep the phone away from me when I’m on Ambien. See? If I’d posted things like that to the chones circle, I wouldn’t be dying of embarrassment now.)

(Still blushing.)

3. Facebook – Meh. I’m still there, on the author page (but without friends because I got rid of the personal page) and I find it cold there now. I thought I’d like it more, just being A Writer, but apparently as much as I kvetched about it, I did like seeing what my high-school acquaintances were doing with their Sunday afternoons. I didn’t know that once that ability was gone I’d miss it. That’s a surprise.

4. The lion shall lie down with the lamb.

I think it’s funny Sir Digit and Clara both somehow know they’re mine, and they get along, mostly ignoring each other. As Digit gets crankier by the day, he gets more irritated with everything that draws breath, and lives to chase poor Clementine into corners just to hulk over her, making her shake with terror. But Clara? They live and let live. And hang out in my office.