I'm awake. I might even be alive.

Sunday, and it's still too warm, and not only do my feet hurt, but my knees as well.

So. Yesterday I met with small press folk about possible copy-writing gigs, collected cards and brochures, met with more Previous Career folk, ended up mentoring some BEA newbies same as I did Friday (apparently, I look like I Have A Clue and Will Share), signed at Posman Books and reassured a reader that she doesn't have to kill me for something that happens in BURNING BRIDGES, signed more copies at random chain stores (B&N at 54th is not showing me the love, curse them), and hit a local street fair. And then off to the harlequin cocktail party, where the noise level was loud, but the spec-fic contingent (including some Necon regulars) took over the VIP balcony and had a good ole' time. Except I think there was one glass of sparkling too many, because this morning I had to stop and think about what happened after I got my wrap and walked out of the club. ('did I take a cab? Subway? please don't let me have walked... no, I remember the subway, okay....' I actually remember pretty much everything; there was just a moment of panic upon waking, before the brain cells caught up with me)

Also got some news from madame editrix, of which more later (tease? moi?)

Today -- brunch, and then home. Home is such a lovely word. I don't want to have to smile at anyone for a week.


next post: books of note and recommendation. And maybe a photo or two.

and the prodigal author returns...

Boomerang: MommaTwoLegs! Hi! FeedmenowfeedmeI'mdyingHI!

Pandora: Bitch. Where have you been? No, don't touch me. I'm not hungry, you don't get forgiven that easy. HE's been horrible. And it's too warm. This is all your fault. *sniffs at human leg* Imissedyou. Bitch.

(EtA: two hours later I woke from an impromptu nap, and Pandora was curled against my leg, her chin on my knee, just watching me. I think I'm forgiven. Or dinner.)