If memory serves, and it doesn’t always, but we can talk about my early-onset dementia/menopausal memory leakage some other time* . . . Jack’s mom only sends the Zabar’s box on New Year’s, Jack’s birthday, Father’s Day, and our wedding anniversary. But this! Year! It looks like I am finally worthy to receive the Blessing of the Lox and Cream Cheese, GLORY BE TO GOD AND HOLD THE CAPERS.
*You’ll have to remind me.
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First of all, congratulations to Autumnalyssa, who won the random drawing for a Let’s Panic! bag filled with all kinds of stuff, and whose mom taught her that you shouldn’t grow pot in the backyard if you have a gregarious six-year-old who might invite the mailman around to see her snail collection. Autumnalyssa’s mom might have been interested in talking to my mom, who tethered our dachshund in the backyard. Dachshunds + irrational barking = NO MAILMEN. I don’t know if dachshunds eat pot plants. Actually, never mind, they do.
Secondly, because I seem to have this need to blog all of a sudden but nothing in particular to say (WHY SHOULD THAT STOP ANYONE??), I will share with you my latest Craigslist selling success. And cause you to wonder why I did it, and for how much, and wouldn’t I have been so much happier keeping it?
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I like nothing more than a good holiday where I feel completely justified in buying myself a bunch of stuff that celebrates just how awesome I am. Also, if it’s a national holiday that excludes people who identify primarily as male, and divides women into uneasy procreational factions? EVEN BETTER.
I’ve been unloading a lot of stuff on eBay and Craigslist, so I felt like as long as I’m stimulating the local economy and a certain day is just around the corner, I could go ahead and buy myself a little treat.
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More images from the Let’s Panic Some-of-the-World Tour ’11.
The above photo was taken at the Bijou Café in Portland, but it could stand in for any morning we didn’t have to wake up early to catch a plane or pretend to be parenting experts on local TV. (more…)
San Francisco, you were on your best behavior for us. Your sky was blue, your taxi cabs prompt, your coffee delicious, your streets colorful but unthreatening, and your residents inspiring.
Things I learned about Seattle in the 21 hours I got to spend there:
1. The entire downtown area is built on landfill, which means that the next biggish earthquake (maybe “biggish” isn’t accurate, maybe “holyshitish” is the word I’m looking for) will create the possibility for liquefaction. To my thinking, this gives the entire street grid of downtown Seattle the unique opportunity to slide into the water in one whole piece. The next obvious step would be to drop 11,000,000 tons of plastic snow and a giant Simpsons-style bio-dome over it, creating the world’s largest and most death-filled snow dome.
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If you’re in Santa Barbara tonight and you want to come over to Chaucer’s and say hello and have me sign a book or two, that would be INCREDIBLE. For me! Maybe not for you. But probably for you? Look, I’m not making any promises. We’ll be at Harry’s afterward, then I’ll start making promises.
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Note: If you are someone who has ever appeared to be the slightest bit open to paranormal explanations for everyday occurrences, I will happily infuse whatever subsequent conversations we have with that topic so that you don’t have to look like the crazy one.
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Yesterday was the publication day for “Let’s Panic About Babies!” and I spent it badgering people on Twitter, eating omelets with Alice, harassing a nice young man at the NYU bookstore who knew that five copies of the book just had to be around here SOMEWHERE, and shopping for shoes that I didn’t actually need. (No actual money was spent. Gotta earn back that advance!)
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