How To Impress Your Boss
Hi. I know, you think I’ve forsaken you. I swear, I haven’t, but this @$#@$ hotel … I couldn’t get internet! I have felt naked and bereft and have missed you tons.
Also, because this is me we’re talking about, I can’t find my camera cord, so not only have I deserted you, I can’t upload pics to share.
It’s a travesty.
BUT I do have I-Love-Lucy stories, does that count? This morning, wearing heels for the first time since last year’s conference, I tripped coming out of the elevator into a very cute man carrying coffee.
Then later, at the Berkley signing, this very lovely woman walked up to me and smiled. I was like Hello! How can I sign this book for you? And she smiled a little broader, leaned in real close and said “Hi, I’m your Publisher.”
As in my EDITOR-IN-CHIEF. As in President of the whole company. As in God of My World.
(Um, hi, Leslie Gelbman. It was VERY lovely to meet you. )
Lord. I have no idea how I made it to this age on my own. It’s a miracle really.
The good news is that I’m having a GREAT time. The bad news is that I’m getting no writing done, this blog included. Oh, but I am eating cookies. They have them in the vending machine, right outside my door. Never a good thing.
I will be back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll tell you about how I walked in on a porn film being made. Or how the restaurant one of my editors took me to had rabbit on the menu and how after I saw that I couldn’t get the visions of the sweet, fuzzy little bunnies that sit on my grass at home out of my head and nearly actually said so at the dinner table while someone was eating said sweet, fuzzy bunny.
Thankfully, lots of blueberry/peach pie a la mode helped me overcome the trauma. Sure, my Rita dress is now tight but hey, it was for a good cause.