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Goin' Upstate

While "goin' upstate" usually means Sing-Sing or some other prison that is north of New York City, fortunately that is not the case for me. Husband and I are headed for a week of fresh air and fun with friends and family in the Catskills. Unfortunately, "goin' upstate" does mean limited internet access - I think even more limited than when we were at the Jersey Shore last summer. Sigh. I do love me my internet access. What's a vacation without blog reading?

However, I do hope that this week away will give me some time to take a very deep breath. It's unbelievable how many exciting, life-altering events have happened within the last month (quick recap: Off the Beaten (Subway) Track is available for purchase, Husband was asked to move to London for work, and I finally was accepted into the MFA program at New School; one thing that did not happen which needs to happen is a consulting contract, which should have started in mid-July but is dragging on forever, although in retrospect, I may have exploded if I took that on while all the other things were happening). If my time upstate allows me to calm down and stop anxiously picking the flesh off my cuticles, it will be worthwhile.

Probably won't be included in the press release...

The always wonderful Denise at Flamingo House Rules wrote a great review of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track that made me laugh my ass off as much as the book made her laugh her ass off.

My favorite line: "The penis jokes in the book - awesome."

Now, if only I could convince the publishing folks to include that in a reviews section on the press release...

(By the way, if anyone is interested in doing a blog book tour, I'm so up for it! Also, I'd forever be grateful if readers could post reviews on their blogs - which I would of course link to - as well as on Amazon. My friend/agent says it is critical to do so.)

Buzz Off

Husband returned from his trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas last night/early morning. As we went to bed, we traded stories about our respective trips.

"I got a free vibrator!" I told him. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the exact expression on his face, but he seemed to be pretending to frown and holding in a laugh.

"So you're replacing me?" he wondered.

"Not all of you, silly! Just part of you..."

"Hey!" he protested, tickling me and laughing.

Ah, good times. I forgot to tell him about the four boxes of Merci chocolate in the fridge. Hope he doesn't get the wrong idea while I'm at class tonight.

Mmmmm.... Mars Bars!

Yesterday I ate a Mars Bar. It's not one of my original stock in which I brought back from London in March or even from the second batch a friend gave me in April when he stayed with us for two short nights. Instead, I purchased it at a British shop in that gray area between Greenwich Village and Chelsea two weeks ago. I figured I could keep in the fridge until I heard back from New School about whether or not I'll be part of the class of 2010.

It turns out that the Tarot card reader I visited in early March was correct: I am indeed attending the New School in the fall!!! The call came today yesterday at 5:15 PM from the admissions office. I'm nervous as hell, but also excited. Whew! What a trip!

Speaking of trips, the Tarot reader's other prediction involved the chance to travel extensively or even live in another country in the next year. That seemed even less likely than getting into New School, so I didn't really think about it. Yet this too shall come to pass it seems: Husband's company asked him to move to London for four years. The relocation is to take place in March 2009. It is an amazing career move for him. When I didn't think I was going to get into an MFA program, I was nervous about moving, but pleased to have easy access to Mars Bars. I figured that I could apply to writing programs over there and keep my fingers crossed that I'd get in. We plan on renting a two bedroom flat, so there is plenty of room for visitors. (Hint, hint.)

Clearly, the New School thing is a wonderful complicating factor. For now, I plan to attend the first year of classes, then join Husband in London for the summer. I'll return to NYC for the second year. Hopefully, he'll be coming to NYC for work frequently and I'll get to go see him in London during school breaks. The thought of all this is scaring the shit out of me, though.

To put it mildly, there's a lot going on here - multiple tentacles of happenings, reaching out and grabbing. Lots of good and interesting things, but still, it is hard for me to absorb it all, let alone savor anything.

Rats!

On the plane ride back from BlogHer, I read a fascinating book about the history of rats in New York City, Rats by Robert Sullivan. The best parts of the book were the historical anecdotes and facts about rats. Also, the few gross-o things I learned (i.e. - if the rat population grows too large to support itself, the furry beady-eyed beasts turn to cannibalism) and squeamish close encounters with rats were great. Less interesting was the author's observations of and ruminations about some rats in an alley in downtown New York, which got me thinking about types of nonfiction writing.

Last week after my writing class, I spoke to the instructor about my desire to attend an MFA program in the fall. He felt that I demonstrated excellent progress in class, but that my writing was not literary, but more journalistic. He described it as "magazine-y," and pointed out that in the prior week I described a couple using the word yuppie. "Yuppie is a label," he said. "It doesn't mean anything."

My additional assignment for this week is to take a page of an article in Vanity Fair and a page from New York, circle all the adjectives, copy it, and bring it to class. I began working on it on my way to the conference, only to discover that what I thought would be obvious isn't so. Sure, I know that an adjective describes a noun, but in reading these articles, I'm having a hard time determining how certain words are being used. Perhaps this is the point of the exercise. Or perhaps I am dumb. In any event, as I read Rats, I tried to determine whether the parts of the book I liked were literary or journalistic. (Answer: Don't know yet. Still trying to understand what makes something "magazine-y" versus "literary.")

So much to learn, so little time. Of one thing in which I am certain: if a rat ever swam up through my toilet bowl, as is known to happen because they are strong swimmers (I was going to say Olympic, but maybe that's magazine-y?), and poked its whiskered nose out, I'd have a heart attack.

Seeing the Light (For Mom)

While I visited my parents a few weeks ago, my mom mentioned that my dad recently broke one of those newfangled long-lasting light bulbs. Not knowing that there is a special way to dispose of those bulbs, he just threw everything out. Not long after that, the Village of Wilmette sent residents a special kit to use in the event that one of those light bulbs break. My mom freaked.

"There's mercury in the living room!" she fretted as I sat with her at the kitchen table.

"So?"

"So what if..." then listed a long stream of very unlikely detrimental effects to women of childbearing age who actually want children, i.e. - my sister.

"Um, I think you are overthinking this. It's not that big a deal."

"That's what so-and-so said at work," she replied, clearly not believing either of us.

This is why I am so excited that florescent light bulb disposal kits were included in the BlogHer Conference goodie bags. Alex even generously donated hers to me to pass on to my mom. So, mom, when you come to see my in NYC in a few weeks, leave extra space in your suitcase for your light bulb safety kits.

Best Book Signing Ever!!!!

My first book signing took place almost 12 hours ago. Thanks to so many wonderful people for making it fantastic! Not only did BlogHer attendees come to see me, but also Warrior Two came in special from the East Bay. It was so awesome meeting her in person! Plus, some of my former co-workers wandered over during their lunch hour. By the time I finished, I was all teary eyed. Everyone has been so supportive and wonderful about this. I am so lucky!!!

Also, thanks to Alex, I also obtained some wonderful photos of bloggers and my beaver. I'll be setting up a flickr account soon to share those. Lord knows there's nothing as exciting as photos of bloggers petting my fuzzy beaver!

My Dam(n)ed Beaver Project

My friend Suebob from the hilarious and thoughtful blog Red Stapler hit on the greatest networking ice breaker ever. She brought a red stapler along with her to the BlogHer conferences, and takes photos of attendees posing with the cheerful object. Everyone wants to be seen with the red stapler! (It probably helps that Suebob is also an all-around amazing human being.)

When I posted a few days ago about my new beaver, Alex asked if I planned to bring my furry friend to the conference. Put two ideas together, and a plan forms: I would bring her to the conference, and ask people if they want to take a picture with my beaver. Beaver shots! It's brilliant! I couldn't wait to get the photo project underway.

The minor detail is that when I arrived at JFK for my flight yesterday morning, I realized that I forgot my camera. Uh huh. (Pursuing my lips with self-disgust.) Fortunately, Alex is not as mentally impaired as I am, and she offered me the use of her new camera! So, the beaver shot project is on!

Now, who wants to pose with my beaver?

Tell Amazon What You Think

One of the talented individuals who took photos for the book IM'd me on Wednesday night and said that his copy of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track (OTBST) arrived! I jumped up and down with excitement, but I also wanted to puke because I am so nervous about what people will think. I hope people will enjoy it, but if not, I'd like to know why. (Feedback will only help me with my next book, whatever that may be.)

If and when you read OTBST, I'd be grateful if you could post a review at Amazon. I'm not pimping for five stars (although I'll take 'em if I earn 'em!), but honest comments. Reviews can be submitted under a pen name, although that is not initially clear when you log in. So if you hate it but don't want me to know, or you love it and want to stalk me, you can do it under a fake name and I'll never be wiser.

As always, I hope that CUSS readers know how grateful and appreciative of all the support you have given me throughout this process, and your enthusiasm for the book. It's just so wonderful to have a network of people, and I promise to return your energy when you write your books.

Last Minute Mini Debacles

I leave for BlogHer tomorrow at 6 am. My writing class takes place tonight from 7 - 10 pm, and I have a million little things to do before that. So of course today would be the day that my little backpack rips.

I use my beloved little backpack like other women use purses. It carries my wallet, keys, subway card, business cards, birth control pills, two kinds of lip balm that I never use, gum, scrap paper, two pens, a pencil, a mirror, subway map, Excederin, Advil, a fold out map of Manhattan, and lately, a copy of my book (just in case - you never know who you'll run into who might want to order it for their chain store, right?). My little bag has been with me for several years now, so I suppose it is only fair that it decided it was ready to retire. Still, it's hard to adjust to a new bag while running off to a networking conference on the other side of the country, assuming I even find a replacement this afternoon. Sob. Oh, little bag, I shall miss you.

Also, a minor last minute change involves make up. It seems that I need to bring some. Fortunately, I can just toss it in my carry on suitcase, which is mostly empty anyway. Regardless, the need for cosmetics makes me nervous.

Average Jane and I had a nice exchange this morning about how excited we are for the conference this year. Then I went to the BlogHer site and read a post about abortion that actually asked, "Why is a woman with so little self-respect as to have sex without commitment to be admired?" By the time I finished reading, I was shaking with anger. I am pretty fucking committed, what with having only one sexual partner in my whole life, and being with him for over 13 years, 8 of those of which we've been married. What the fuck does that have to do with abortion? What I believe it means is that sex for purposes other than procreation is wrong. Go one step further, the only reason to marry is to procreate. It was so judgmental and vile that I am trembling with anger again as I write this. Now I fear (slightly) that I will spend a good portion of my time trying to avoid this woman, which sucks. No one should go to a networking conference with the advanced knowledge that other participants think they are the moral equivalent of toxic waste, which is clearly what this woman thinks of me and anyone like me. Sigh.

Possibly, The Most Tasteless CUSS Post to Date

You've been warned. If you have some misconception that I am a good person, this post will remove that fallacy from your brain forever...

So I was perusing the groups section on Facebook, and saw a group that one of my Facebook/former high school friends recently joined. Based on the joinee, I was certain that the group was very, very serious about its cause, although the logo made me snort evil fits of laughter because it looks and sort of sounds like a bad joke:
It just seems like a Saturday Night Live skit towards the end of the program. Laughing at earnest tone of the Foundation's website only adds to my ranking as a truly horrible person. I kept thinking, "This can't be for real." But it is. The Facebook description is even more dramatically hilarious:

Although this law and Safe Haven has been approved, millions of young women are unaware. So instead of safely delivering their newborn, they frantically leave their baby to die.

Millions of young women? Really? Man, garbage men in Illinois must be finding perfectly good dead babies every single day. Do they dread opening every trash bin, knowing that a dead baby awaits discovery? They must need serious counseling by now. (Maybe this is why Alex's husband got such a severe warning one day when he came out late with a bag of trash; the garbage men probably thought he was disposing of a last minute baby.) Do not miss the heart-wrenching testimonial and photo of "Matthew," an adorable potential garbage baby whose fate as a dead baby was averted when his wise mother abandoned him at a fire station instead of throwing him out like those millions of other stupid young women do with their high quality newborns.

Shit, this was definitely in some movie. I am so hearing a jive-talking black garbage man mutter about "perfectly good white babies" in my head. Anyone know what this is? I know that throwing out babies (or even pets, as Steph and I used to joke that Husband would do with my pet rabbit rabbit while I was out of town) in dumpsters is totally not funny. It's just that I cannot stop cracking up right now. What with the Bushies now defining birth control pills and IUDs as abortions, if I don't laugh I will curl up in the fetal position (and risk mistakenly being trashed by a frantic teen!) and cry.

Book Signing at BlogHer

I'll be signing my book, Off the Beaten (Subway) Track, at the BlogHer Conference at the Westin St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco on Friday, July 18. The official signing is from 12:15 - 12:45. (Note the time change, although if you didn't write down another time, ignore this note.) Books are available on site.

I hope I will see you there!

Alas, Poor Husband

Husband's 32nd birthday is on Thursday. (We'll be spending it apart, with Husband on the way to LA for a roadtrip to Vegas with his brother and two other guys, and me on my way to BlogHer, but that's another story.) Last week, while we were in Chicago, my creative aunt presented Husband with an early birthday gift. The staff at Olive Garden were as amused as Husband was befuddled. Since my aunt randomly decided that Husband* does not like cards (not true, incidentally), she bought him a red teddy bear named Husband (the name is embroidered across its chest), which she wrapped inside this Halloween skull that shouted, "Happy Halloween" when he pressed a button on its forehead to open it. (He had to return the skull to her.)

Husband's partially visible t-shirt reads, "9 out of 10 killer robots vote Republican." His fingers are taped because he jammed his pinky by making a game-saving catch for his kickball team. I am so lucky to have such an awesome partner.

*According to the tag on Husband the Bear's ear, Husband's name indicates that he liked fishing and the outdoors as a boy. It concluded that people with that name are usually wealthy businessmen. Husband liked that part a lot.

Meet My New Furry Beaver!

(Sorry for the low quality of the picture.)




Last night Husband and I went over to my brother-in-law's place. A new crap shop opened around the corner from him, so we trooped over to check out the "deals." There was a disturbing preponderance of Ikea items being sold for more than their original prices, which struck me as hilarious. (Example: a coffee table that Husband and I bought for $20 at Ikea was marked as $25 at the nameless junk store.) Then I spotted the furry little beaver huddled on an Ikea nightstand, and felt the need to rescue her. She was a bargain at $3.

Not far from where I bought my new beaver is a real beaver spa! For a mere $150, a woman can get a special pelvic exam in which the doctor crams her finger up the river (so to speak), and by squeezing her beaver on the finger, determine how weak her vaginal muscles are. The spa also offers beaver fitness classes and beautification specials.

Yeah. I'll keep my beaver at home. Thanks.

Big Kudos

I know nothing about building websites or graphic design. Hence I owe enormous thanks to two men for helping me put together a fantastic (new) website for my book, Off the Beaten (Subway) Track.

My friend Alex's husband (blog name: Big Giraffe, or BG), very kindly put together a website for my book several months ago. He asked me what I wanted, and I said something that conveys information about what the book is about, where to buy it, and how to get in touch with me. He produced a great site that was simple enough for even a tech-idiot like myself to update, and included elements like an upcoming events sidebar. It's been great!

My brother-in-law, who runs a home cooking events business called Hot Pot, is not only a marketing guru, but a graphic design genius. He designed the awesome invitation for my book party, and thought that he could cook up something snazzy along those lines for the website. Using BG's framework and his enormous creative skills, Off the Beaten (Subway) Track looks super cool.

Once again, I am left to hope that the contents of the book can live up to its packaging!!! Thanks to both my brother-in-law and BG for all their hard work. I am so grateful.

Bad Medicine Must Make 'em Think They Have A Prayer

Husband and I attended Midsummer Night Swing at Lincoln Center last night for a disco night. As much fun as it was doing the hustle, it was equally fun watching men of a certain age hustle and try to swing. Some of these guys were very good dancers, too. Still, observing a guy who was probably in his mid-70s, wearing a brown printed silky shirt, a thick gold chain, sunglasses (even after the sun set), and a panama hat put his moves on women in their 20s and 30s was highly entertaining. Eventually, he settled for a woman who was in her late 40s or early 50s, but also an excellent dancer.

I asked Husband if he planned to haunt the stage for action after I died. He looked at me with genuine horror in his eyes, and frowned. "That's not going to happen," he said earnestly. We are going to die together when we are very elderly. We can hold hands."

Tonight, we are heading to Central Park for a free Bon Jovi concert presented as part of the All-Star Game festivities. There were 67,000 tickets issued, and the Great lawn only holds 50,000, so we are not sure if we will get in. My sinuses are killing me, so I didn't want to get there more than a few hours early, although it is a perfect July day.

Perusing My First Copy of My First Book at My Apartment

While I was out and about yesterday, a preview copy of my book arrived! Although it was well after 11 pm, I ripped open the package and (pretended) to read while Husband took pictures. Weirdly, it feels less real now than ever, but still super exciting.

(Also, I love the funny details of my cluttered apartment that appear in the background. For example, the wood piece on the wall with junk hanging off it (a rabbit bead necklace my mother-in-law got me in New Orleans; tassels from my graduation from NYU; scissors that someone gave me in 3rd grade; a cross-stitch I made of a tabby cat that I changed the color scheme for so that it would be psychedelic; a bookmark; and a hamsa - a Jewish object to ward off the evil eye - my Israeli relative made) is something I made in 6th grade. The pictures on the entertainment center are of me and Husband at our wedding (bottom); my sister's husband, Dr. P, Husband, and me at a picnic in Central Park (second from bottom); Dr. P and I at an Oktoberfest party (second from top); and my sister and I at her wedding, and Husband and I cutting the cake at our reception. A menorah I got from my Bubbe and Grandpa is in front of those pictures, and the tabernacle cover opens to reveal the ten commandments. I always loved that menorah when I was growing up.)

FYI - My book signing time at the BlogHer Conference has changed. It is still on Friday, July 18, but now will take place from 12:15 - 12:45.

Pecans, Almonds, and Pistachios

Things are kind of nuts here right now. (Ha!) Not only is Susanne Reisman still a co-author of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track in some venues (although, thankfully, the freeloader has been dropped from most listings), but now Suzanne Reizman is also on the wait list at New School. We'll see how that goes.

Tweeze This

While at my local pharmacy yesterday to buy Sudafed 12 Hour, I cut through the beauty products aisle. The tweezer selection made me pause. Revlon alone manufacturers maybe ten different types of tweezers. I studied them keenly.

Approximately 90% of Revlon's tweezers are identified for use on eyes. The other tweezer was for "special" uses, primarily removing ingrown hairs. I found another tweezer online for removing splinters. What I did not see, however, was any mention that ladies use tweezers to pluck out our chin hairs.

What?!?! Did I just spill some sort of horrifying secret? Women pluck chin hairs?!?! Goodness gracious! How gauche to mention aloud, let alone in potentially mixed company!!!! Yes, I am a terrible person. I want to buy tweezers that keep my goatee under control, which is what I mainly use tweezers for. (Once in a while, I pick at my eyebrows, butt mostly they get along on their own splendidly, protecting my eyeballs from debris as eyebrows should.) If such an honest product is ever produced, I will be the first to buy them. My suggested name for these tweezers is "Not By the Hair on My Chinny Chin Chin."

Incidentally, the number of pink tweezers sold on drugstore.com is disturbing. What is it with the fucked up notion that if women use a product, it must be pink? I happen to like pink as much as the next women, but this is ridiculous. If I'm going to yank the hairs out of my chin and jaw, I really don't need a pink tweezer to remind me that I am engaging in an un-womanly activity. Take your pink tweezers, hammers, pots, and whatever and shove them up your pretty pink assholes, you marketing and manufacturing idiots!

House Rules

While we were in Chicago, my bestest friend Steph visited some of her other chums in New York City and stayed at my apartment. Although I was sad to miss seeing my giant white friend, it worked out well because she fed Tycho, my giant white pet rabbit. I told her to sleep in our bedroom as opposed to on the couch, as his enormous furriness screws up her sinuses.

Upon my return home yesterday morning, I found a yellow post-it note in Husband's chicken scratch handwriting left on a pillow. It read:

ABSOLUTELY NO

• DEFECATING


• URINATING


• EATING


• JUMPING


• SEX

IN THE BED.
THANK YOU
-MGT

I rang Steph at work. "I saw Husband left you some instructions regarding the bed," I said when she answered.

She busted up. "Yeah, I put them back where I found him 'cause I figured they applied to him, too."

They both crack me up.

Bus Ride Reminds Me Why America is Good

Husband and I had a 6 AM flight back to New York this morning, so we rose at 3:40 to get ready to leave. (Incidentally, my dad rose at 3:30 so he could drive us, although we repeatedly offered to call a cab. That's the kind of person he is. Thanks, Dad!) We got a few hours of sleep since we departed from the wedding we came to Chicago to attend around 10 pm. (As for the wedding, we had a blast.)

The point is, by the time I got into LaGuardia, I was on the verge of turning into Crankypants McBitch. I waited 20 minutes for the public bus to Manhattan, as did an increasingly large crowd of travelers eager to get into town for a mere $2. When the first bus arrived, it was already full from the previous terminals. A few minutes later, a mostly empty second bus was swarmed. I decided to take a different bus through Queens to the subway.

Of course, as soon as I boarded, I regretted my decision. I forgot how many local stops are on that route, plus it seemed that hordes of direct buses were descending on the airport, ready for a return trip to Manhattan. Bah! I seethed at my stupidity, glaring at each of the 9,000 or so people who got on and off the bus at every other fucking corner.

Then a funny thing happened. I noticed how diverse the bus's riders were. As we drove through Queens toward Jackson Heights, old Italian men, young Ecuadorian women, a middle-aged Indian couple, and countless other individuals of various ethnic groups joined me on a quiet bus ride. We passed restaurants selling all types of cuisine, shops with saris, and Asian grocery stores. I stared out the window at the teeming masses of humanity peacefully sharing the sidewalks.

Soon, I felt really good. I'm so lucky to live in New York. It's a city where we welcome people from all over the world, ride buses and subways together, and break bread next to one another. How could I be pissy? I relaxed, and three subways (shortcuts, I swear) and 30 minutes later, I was home petting my rabbit, who is adopted from upstate New York.

Eco Chic or Homeless? And Life Repeats Itself

Whenever I visit my parents, I slip into a sweatshirt I bought at Venture (a Wal-Mart-type chain store in Chicago) in 1990. It has six little lessons about saving the planet with Peanuts characters doing their part. As we prepared to leave for the Taste of Chicago yesterday morning, my sister worried that it would be chilly downtown and she didn't have a jacket.

"You can wear my sweatshirt," I offered.

Dana wrinkled her nose. "No way! That thing is hideous!"

"What? What do you mean? This shirt is awesome! It's about the environment!"

Husband and Dana sighed, and tag team trashed my sweatshirt. "It's filthy," Husband said, pointing out 18 years of accumulated stains.

"It was cool in 1990," Dana sneered.

"You look homeless in it!" they said and nodded at each other.

"It's eco chic!" I insisted.

We decided to take a picture and let the blogosphere decide:

What do you think?

Regardless, Dana left the sweatshirt behind, and it turned out that she didn't need it anyway, as it was warm and sunny. Perfect weather for sharing copious amounts of food at the Taste. This included: cumin-dusted fries with mango chutney; mascarpone gelato; a banana and pork dumpling (Husband loved it; I nearly puked); breakfast pizza; regular pizza; and frozen toffee cheesecake dipped in chocolate on a stick.

After we had our fill, we went to visit Bubbe at her apartment. From there, it was birthday dinner at the Olive Garden for Granny. (Happy 85th!!!) My aunt present Husband with an early 32nd birthday present. She randomly bought him a red teddy bear named Husband, put it is a plastic skull that yelled, "Trick or Treat!" when you pop the cranium, and presented it to him. Unfortunately, he had to give the skull back.

Independence Day was capped off with a musical. My favorite musical, which I think I first saw 16 years ago and dozens of times until it closed in June 2000, is "Co-Ed Prison Sluts." It re-opened yesterday for a limited run, so I felt very fortunate to catch it. Dana and her hubby are as big fans as I, so we sang along and generally had a great time despite a slightly shaky cast.

Ah, reliving the 1990s!

The Most Exciting OTBST News to Date!

The bookstore at the BlogHer conference will carry Off the Beaten (Subway) Track!!!!! And I get to do a signing!!! Man, I am so excited I can barely sit still. This is just the cream cheese icing on the moist carrot cake without nuts! (Since I am no cannibal, I try to avoid nuts in my baked goods.)

Details: The signing will take place at the BlogHer conference at the Westin St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco's stupendous Union Square on Friday, July 18th from 2:00-2:30.

This means more to me than just the first book signing of my first book. Not long after I started blogging, my friend C. (who is also going to the conference this year! yay!) told me that I needed to hook up with an awesome site for women bloggers called BlogHer. C. didn't blog, but she went to the first BlogHer conference in 2005 and had a blast. I checked out the site, liked it a lot (someone wrote about buying a wipe board that is installed in her shower because she gets so many ideas while in the shower and needs to write them down or else she'd forget them - me too!!!), and joined up.

Not long after that, BlogHer transformed into a its next phase of life and sought contributing editors. I looked at the various categories that were available and applied for Travel & Recreation. I figured that I went lots of places and was writing about them, and often before I headed on a trip I read what other bloggers were up to at that destination, so it would be fun. Let me reiterate that I had essentially zero track record as a writer and a blogger, but Lisa Stone read my nutty stories about the degrees of stench one might encounter in airplane bathrooms (a recurring theme to this day) and crazy rants about underwear in Paris, and she gave me a chance. I wrote about travel for six months before switching over to feminism & gender. (Currently, Pam Mandel is the amazing contributing editor for travel.)

That the debut of my first book will be at the BlogHer conference just feels so right to me. The wonderful people behind BlogHer could understandably have told a newbie like me to buzz off when I inquired about writing for them, but they didn't. Now BlogHer is offering me another opportunity to branch out. Elizabeth from Table for Five patiently worked with Barnes & Noble and Cumberland House to ensure that Off the Beaten (Subway) Track made it to this year's conference bookstore, despite some logistical snafus. My gratitude toward everyone at BlogHer is immense.

Incidentally, I'll also be leading the Birds of a Feather Meet-Up for Travel, since Pam is unfortunately unable to attend the conference. This session will take place from 12:45 - 2:00 on Friday, July 18. I'm getting as much insight from Pam as possible, so it should be a great conversation.

Happy 8th Anniversary, or A Day of Doom and Gloom?

While visiting Bubbe in the hospital this afternoon, my mom read an article in the Chicago Tribune listing important events that have taken place on July 2. Most of them were horrific, like Ernest Hemingway committing suicide or President Garfield's assassination. Fortunately, one good thing took place on July 2: Pres. Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law. Oh, and also I got married and my friends' had a baby, so the day isn't a total loss. I did suggest that if my mom didn't stop reading the list of miserable events aloud, next year's edition might include a mother being pushed out the second story window of a hospital.

In the Hospital with Bubbe; In the Restaurant with Grandma

Today was one nutty day. The first sign was when I pulled out a clean pair of underwear while I was getting dressed. "Are these mine?" I frowned as I held up some big ass drawers. Then they fit. Ooof.

Next, I disregarded my resolution to not spazz and enjoy the month. After practically chewing off my finger with anxiety, everything fell into place. As Husband says, it all works out in the end. But not before I got myself worked up into a frenzy. Sometimes I wonder if I didn't aggravate myself if things really would work out, as if my distress is the trigger to a happy ending. Whatever.

Bubbe underwent a surgical procedure to fix a stent in her aorta today, and I went to see her when she woke up. She immediately complained about things, so I knew she was fine. This is good.

After the hospital, I went out to dinner with my mom, dad, and granny. Hijinks ensued.

"I'll have the boiled tongue sandwich," Granny told the waiter.

"Will that be a whole or half sandwich?" he inquired.

Granny gestured grandly. "When I go out, I go all the way!" She covered her mouth demurely and giggled. "Ha ha! That sounded pretty bad, didn't it?"

"Yeah, granny," I said. "You and your tongue sandwich, going all the way!"

"Ha! That's true!" she snorted.

The waiter looked disturbed for a minute before joining in the laughter.

And that perfectly sums up the first day of July.