A banner day, some dumb mishaps, and a minor family tragedy

If you follow me on Facebook, you already know my big news! Trouble in a Big Box, my third Kelly O'Connell Mystery, went live today on Kindle, Nook, and various other digital platforms. I'm really excited and hope when you read it you can't tell that three-fourths through the manuscript, I was still wondering who done it. And then it all fell into place--I'm pleased with the result (is that too much self confidence?). I had to argue with my editor over the title--although my publisher is in Kentucky, my editor is in Wales and she didn't know the term "big box." (For some reason I have a hard time typing that--it comes out Bix Box every time!) She thought Kelly was going to come home and find a big box of some kind at her doorstep. I assured her people in this country would know it refers to a Big Box store moving into Kelly's beloved Fairmount neighborhood. Shortly after I wrote this, fiction became truth when a WalMart moved into a residential neighborhood adjacent to Fairmount--over neighborhood objections.
I laugh when I remember a few years ago I thought if I could just get one mystery in print, I'd be happy--now I have three, with two more scheduled.
The print copy of this one will be available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Turquoise Morning Press in about three weeks, and I can't wait to hold it in my hand.
Maybe I was giddy with excitement, but I sure have done a couple of dumb things lately. Yesterday I could NOT find the remote to the kitchen TV. I looked in cupboards, drawers, the bowl of onions and fruit I keep on the counter--nada. Found it in my purse. This sent Jacob--and his parents--into hysterics. He wanted to know what would have happened if I put it in the refrigerator. Then today I cooked some plums for a yummy salad dressing. Directions were to drain the cooking liquid into a bowl, then mash as much of the solids as possible through a sieve. Somehow I lifted up the sieve, drained the liquid through it--without the bowl under it. Plum juice everywhere. I captured as much as I could, mushed up the solids and put the whole thing in the dressing. Hope my lunch guests tomorrow don't mind a bit of peel. It's also all over my T-shirt, but my mom taught me to remove fruit stains--pour boiling water through them. It works every time!
I did have a bit of good fortune today when I went to pick up some pants left at the cleaners for alteration. They weren't ready but they handed me two shirts--I've been missing one of them over a year--and it was a favorite!
Our minor family tragedy: My grandchildren all went to the Midway at the Stock Show and Rodeo in January 2011. One of the games rewarded kids with their own goldfish--and the man must have wanted to get rid of the fish, because each of my seven went home with a fish. Most (fish, not grandchildren) died almost immediately, but Jacob's lived on. He called it Fishy Cory (or Cory Fishy, not sure). Cory died today. RIP. I must say Jacob's aunts and uncles have been less than sympathetic, texting outrageous messages, promising to get him a ferret, even suggesting that the grandmother might like to have the ferret--no thank you! Jordan tells me that Jacob is sad. When she and Christian went to Mexico earlier this month, I was responsible for feeding Fishy twice--and I lived in terror I'd find him belly up. I'm sorry he died, but relieved he didn't die on my watch.

From Down to Up

Today is a much better day and I regret the whiny post of yesterday. Biggest thing of the day is that about 3:30 p.m. I got advance copies of my cookbook/memoir. It looks good. (I tried twice to upload the cover and couldn't--maybe tomorrow the whims of the internet will be different.) I've thumbed through it, with some nostalgia, but not looked too closely. There has never ever been a book published without errors, and I don't want to find them in this one. But the pictures all seem to be there, and I'm excited about it. It should be in Barnes & Noble and other stores in a couple of weeks, but--blatant advertising--you can order it from 1-800-826-8911. $18.95 plus shipping and tax. I'm hoping the TCU B&N can sell copies Sunday at Books & Music in the Garden, and I'm trying to be creative about publicizing and marketing this one. Obviously State House Press is not sending me on even a Texas tour, but I hope to use the web (my attempt just now to post on Facebook was a bust!), emails etc. to get the word out. Some critics said only my good friends would buy it, and I'm hoping that's wrong--but, hey, I have a lot of good friends. And the recipes really are pretty good.
If the approach of rain makes you blue, as it did me last night, I think the actual arrival somehow clears the air, though it sure isn't cheering. We need the rain desperately, and it was gratefully received this morning, but I had to remind myself of that as I darted from car to door and back again several times. It never rained hard enough and I never went far enough to put up the umbrella, but I did get chilled and wet. First thing this morning I went for a haircut, and as she combed it Rosa said, "It will just fall anyway today." It held up pretty well through noon but then I developed that wet puppy look.
Charles and I had lunch at the Black-Eyed Pea today--a real treat for me, but I found he eats there often (all the waitresses greet him enthusiastically). Charles has a whole life I don't realize, mostly through his Unitarian Church, and it really is a blessing for him. We had a good visit, but he turned down my invitation to go to Central Market with me, said he gets too tired. I hate to see these signs in him. He's on oxygen now and carries a small tank with him wherever he goes--but go he does, and more power to him!
By the time we left the restaurant, it had stopped raining. I dropped him off, doubled back to Central Market, and hurried home to hibernate.
Overnight I made a decision about what I'm going to do about my novel, and then today got an email from an author who I promised I would blog about her book. So I have chores I'm looking forward to.
I was tempted to run out to Jordan's tonight to show off the cookbook, but once home I was too cozy to go out again (I did ride my bike four miles!). I'll go tomorrow night for happy hour.
Reservations are a bit up for Books & Music in the Garden, it's supposed to be a beautiful day, and I'm feeling more optimistic about it.

Authors

One of the perks of being a press director, even at a very small academic press, is that you occasionally rub shoulders with really well known authors. No, I'm not about to give you a list of "Guess who I met in the elevator"--I knew a man who did that--but I will say that some are either full of themselves or oblivious. I've met one of the best known authors of Texas about ten times, and it's a new experience every time--he seems to look slightly over your left shoulder when you're introduced--but if I write him, he knows on paper who I am. But others, like John Graves, Larry L. King, and Elmer Kelton, are wonderful, warm and friendly. Now, I've talked to--and will meet--another friendly author. On the phone Timothy Egan was open, enthusiastic, humorous and sincere in turns, and very friendly. He doesn't brag about the fact that he's won a Pulitzer, a National Book Award, an Oklahoma Book Award, and a Western Heritage (Wrangler) Award from the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame.
Egan is the author of The Worst Hard Time, which has also won the TCU Texas Book Award, to be presented on April 17 at a banquet. The book is a gripping tale of the people who stayed on the land during the Dust Bowl of the 1930s. John Steinbeck made famous those who left--the "exodusters"--in The Grapes of Wrath, but Egan has gone back and talked to people who stayed--in West Texas and the Panhandle, the Oklahoma Panhandle, eastern Colorado, and most of Kansas. These people are aging now, and Egan has done history a mighty work by capturing their stories while they're here to tell them. The result is a gripping book that you simply can't put down. I can't recommend it too highly--and I'm really looking forward to meeting Timothy Egan when he comes to Fort Worth. To give you an example of how unpretentious he is, when he returned my call, he said, "Hi, this is Timmy." Floored me for a minute--I couldn't think of who was calling me.