Random crap Tuesday? Sure, I don’t have any other plans. Buckle up, cowboys! Wow, that was kind of a stupidly mixed metaphor. Cowboys don’t wear SEATBELTS.
In news of the MOST random, want to hear a most excellent German word? Schnarcht. Guess what it means. No, seriously, guess. SNORING. Now say it out loud. (No, I don’t know how to pronounce it correctly, either. Probably there are like three of you reading that do.) Doesn’t it just LOOK and SOUND like snoring? It totally does. It’s like a little German onomatopoeia!
In news of snoring, which I was explaining to Ken on Twitter, I am the loudest snorer in the history of the world, and probably I need a C-PAP machine but I don’t care for those because Dad has one and I put it on once and it made me feel like I was in a wind tunnel that was sucking my breath.
Seriously, how would a person sleep with one of these on? Comfortably, I mean? That can’t happen. Also, sexy? No.
I snore like a lumberjack. So, probably it’s good that I’m single, because otherwise, whoever hitched his euphemistic wagon to my star would be really, really tired all the time. Or I need a deaf person. Or someone who can sleep in another room with that sound-baffling material all on the walls like in a recording studio. According to ex-roommates, I also hold detailed conversations in my sleep, in which I play all the roles, and I sometimes laugh. There’s even a word for that. Somniloquy! It’s like I’m in a Shakespearean nighttime drama. None of this surprises you, does it? I don’t have an off-button! Even when I’m SLEEPING! Someday (let’s hope) I’ll have a nice repeat overnight visitor who finds this all very entertaining and we’ll get him to record it. I’d like to know what I’m saying in my sleep. Mom was all, “Um, that could be bad. What if you’re spilling SECRETS?” What secrets, like my biscuit recipe? Sheesh, Mom, there really aren’t any bodies buried anywhere. What exactly do you think I do down here all day, mobster-stuff? I’m living a soap-opera? Nope. Nothing that exciting. Sorry to disappoint.
Ay, Dios mio!
(Also, in “I have a very active nighttime life” news, about a week ago, I woke up CONVINCED one of you had died. I won’t say which one. It will freak you right the hell out. That’d freak ME out. It’s like a PORTENT of EVIL. Let’s name the person…Pat. That is a gender-non-specific name.
Pat doesn’t look like this. Pat is lovely.
I sat up straight in bed around 2am, and said, out loud, “Oh, no. I have to let everyone know. I have to. They NEED to know.” See, I apparently had had a dream that I thought was TOTALLY REAL in which Pat had died, and one of Pat’s loved ones had contacted me and tasked me with telling all of the internet that Pat was no longer among us. I was the only one, other than Pat’s loved ones, who knew Pat was dead. Yes, I realize this makes very little sense. Why would Pat’s loved ones only tell me that Pat was dead? I don’t know. It was a dream. They don’t make sense. The thing is, I apparently was kind of sleepwalking. I thought it was real.
Man, it’s a good thing there are a lot of steps and such before I get outside. I’d end up all wandering through the woods in my nightgown. And it’s really unkempt.
So I sat up sure this was true. I reached for my phone, so I could tell everyone Pat was dead. However, I had forgotten to charge my phone the night before, so my phone was charging in the living room. I actually GOT OUT OF BED to WALK TO THE LIVING ROOM to GET MY PHONE to tell EVERYONE Pat was dead. I was standing in the middle of my bedroom, kind of swaying? You know, when you’re like 98% asleep? And I actually said, OUT LOUD, “Wait. I THINK I AM DREAMING. PAT IS NOT DEAD.” Then I stood there half-asleep for a few more minutes, thinking, “Is it a dream? Is it not? Should I tell the internet Pat is dead?” Then I decided, no, it is a dream. Because I would be crying if Pat was dead, because I love Pat, and how sad would it be if Pat was dead? Why would I just be SLEEPING? Like it was not a big DEAL? That didn’t make any sense. So I went back to bed. Can you even imagine if my phone had been next to my bed? I would have, like, posted on Facebook or Twitter or here or wherever that Pat was dead. Then I’d wake up in the morning to a million messages, some of them FROM Pat, all, “Um. Amy? I’m …um…not dead? What is happening WHAT IS HAPPENING.” So. There is the story of how my brain works at 2am. Also, I think I need to start keeping my phone in the living room, just for safekeeping. Oh, and because I’m sure you’ve been worried: PAT IS ALIVE. I checked as soon as I woke up.)
It was a very exciting week last week. Much book announcement ruckus. Covers! Release dates! All kinds of excitement. I’m totally bouncing like Tigger right now, I can’t even tell you. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Just a little over two weeks, and then BOOK RELEASE DAY! Also, I have lined up – ready? Ready for this? – REVIEWERS! I know it, right? How fancy is THAT! I think I have 4 now? 5? People who will READ my BOOK! And tell people about it! I am very excited about this. Thank you, my reviewers! I hope they love it. But even if they don’t, doesn’t matter. I’m just excited they’ll read it. I want them to be honest, anyway. I’d rather an honest review than a lying liar who lies review.
Yo, here’s a CAT reviewer. How do I pitch a cat reviewer? I think a cat would give me a VERY good review! I am a FRIEND of cats. ALL cats.
Anyway, when I announced this, I hoped (rightly, I love your faces) all my internet people would be awesome and excited, because you’re all awesome, but as I’ve mentioned a million times before (and I find this utterly baffling, I mean, not because I’m so scintillating in real life, but shouldn’t your real-life people be even more involved in your life than your “imaginary” friends?) my real-life people don’t seem to care what’s happening in the land of me, so I didn’t even tell anyone in real life (and before you ask, YES, I absolutely HAVE tried, and then I gave up), hardly, until I realized, huh, I probably should, even if it sells one book, it might be worth it. Plus I’m super-stoked. So I put it up on Facebook last week. And GOOD GRACIOUS. It’s amazing when sometimes people surprise you, isn’t it? My real-life people WERE excited! I was honored and humbled and also we annoyed poor Ken to distraction because I THOUGHT it would be a good thing to tag him in the post, because he did the cover and I wanted to make sure he got credit for that, but I honestly thought (as with most things I post on Facebook) no one would CARE, I had no idea people would RESPOND, so he started getting a kajillion emails because he’s signed up to get emails every time someone comments on a post he’s tagged in. SORRY KEN. If it helps at all, I felt terrible about the emails. I did NOT feel terrible he was getting the credit he deserved for the beautiful, beautiful cover. (KEN! Take off your Facebook email notifications, goofball.) So, yeah. Real life people, I am sorry I underestimated you. I’ll try to be better about that in the future.
Aw, sorry hamster (or some sort of rodent, who knows what this is, not me!)
Also, this weekend, I got to see the first rough draft of the book (eeee!) and it is BEAUTIFUL. I can’t even TELL you. I had a little editing work to do and I did it and then I honestly fell down a wormhole of paging through the PDF over and over and OVER and saying things like, “Hey, HEY, I totally WROTE that, that’s a nice turn of phrase, right there, too bad the person that inspired that is such an asshat” (oh, wait, no, of COURSE I’d never think that, us poets are SO above that, ahem.) It’s amazing and it’s beautiful and I can’t wait for you all to see it.
On the same day my book’s coming out, my friend and co-blogger at The Loser’s Table (which I SWEAR we have not forgotten about, it’s just…well…we’re all a little busy at the moment) Cara has a book coming out as well. On the same day! So of course you’re going to want to read Cara’s book as well. It is called Elegantly Wasted, look look look how pretty Erin‘s cover is, and I can’t wait to read it.
Cara’s been working her ass off on it and I’m so proud that we’re both Luna Station authors. Congratulations, Cara! You know, I really know some crazy-talented people. It amazes me. I’m so proud to have them all in my life, I can’t even explain.
In weather news (what, that’s fun, right? Don’t we ALL love talking about the weather?) we are having a DROUGHT. Our grass is yellow; our trees are yellow; our skies are blue blue blue blue and it is hoooooot. Hot and humid. It’s like living in a swamp only there’s no water in this swamp. It’s kind of the worst.
This is what our grass looks like right now. It is unpretty.
Even up where my parents live, where it’s always wet, it’s dry. The governor put the state under a three-month outdoor burn ban because of all the droughtiness. My dad’s all, “well, that’s it, it’s over, it’s never going to rain again” because he’s filled with joy and a whole pot of optimism. And, because it’s so, so dry, guess what happened up where my parents live this past weekend? A GIGANTIC FOREST FIRE! I’m not even kidding! My dad has a wood lot (people have such things at home, it’s where you cut your firewood and also hang out for fun sometimes and look at squirrels), and it caught on FIRE! Two ACRES of fire! Fire that got under the pine needles and lasted until the next DAY! It was all very upsetting and FIVE different fire departments had to be called in and Dad almost passed out from heat stroke because it was over 90 degrees that day and I scolded him and scolded him for almost dying. Apparently it’s out now but that was a scary thing. The whole WOODS could have burned down. That wouldn’t have been fun. Where would the fairies and frog princes live?
I don’t think it was this big. But if you Google “little forest fire” you don’t get a lot of results, oddly.
Also, Dad’s all put out because the local paper but a blurb about the fire on Facebook. “I DON’T WANT TO BE ON FACEBOOK! THAT’S WHY I DON’T HAVE AN ACCOUNT!” he said. “Dad, they didn’t say your name, just that there was a fire somewhere on that road, you’re safe,” I replied. “STALKERS WILL KNOW!” he howled. Oh, Dad. It must be so hard to live in your head. A place so full of ruckus and I’m guessing bees.
In happier news, The Nephew was at my parents’ house the last time I called, and he was building LEGO TOWERS! That almost went to the CEILING, Aunt Amy! And when my mom asked him if he wanted to talk to me, he said, “I do NOT want to talk to her!” (kid hates the phone; that’s ok, I’m not a fan of it myself) but when my mom tried to put the speakerphone on and couldn’t, he said, “WHY can’t you?” as if his wee nephewy heart was broken. I like that he is filled with contradictions. I want to build Lego towers to the ceiling with him. I’m quite good at Lego towers. It’s a secret talent I have.
OK, back to doing many many important things I go.
Oh, who got the title? You totally win my love if you did without me telling you below like I’m going to. Ready? Ok, well, it’s not like the Counting Crows are my favorite band, or anything, but I love love LOVE this song. (Also, what? It was never released as a single? Sorry, this is a terrible version. But the live versions are AWFUL. The album version is best.)