Scribble Interludes

Night night

2010-04-27T18:01:00.000-07:00

At bedtime tonight, my six year old asked me if the tooth fairy was real. Don't lie, he said. Is it real? Goodbye the magic of innocence. :(

xo

A Day of Readings

2010-04-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

This past Tuesday was a Spoken Interludes kind of day. In the morning, there was the graduation event for the boys at Abbott School from Spoken Interludes Next, the outreach writing program for at-risk children. Here is the first brave young man reading while the other students listen and wait their turn.

The boys at this school are all in the foster system, and have had to endure hardships that would test the sanity of most adults, much less children in these tender years. The stories they wrote were brave and funny and imaginative and observant. We had a big feast set out for them before and I had the best time serving them apple juice and making sure they weren't too shy for seconds (and thirds and fourths!). It was a wonderful, moving morning. Next few weeks: graduations events at Hawthorne Cedar Knolls, and Blythedale Childrens Hospital.

Then that night, I had a Spoken Interludes at the fabulous and yummy Chutney Masala. Navjot, the owner, made this divine fish dish that I've been dreaming about all week. And I have tilapia to make for dinner tonight and somehow know it won't be half as good. Jonathan Dee was there reading from his new novel, The Privileges, Dani Shapiro read from her moving and wonderful memoir, Devotion, and Tad Friend of The New Yorker read from his hysterical memoir, Cheerful Money.
xo

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2010-04-09T13:06:00.001-07:00

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Yarmouth Blue

2010-02-07T17:53:00.000-08:00

I painted my sons bathroom today with my sons (ages 6 and 3) and my nephew who is 12. When we started, and my six year old was on one side of the bathroom wielding a roller, and my three year old was on the other side, waving a roller, I had a moment of, "What in God's name was I thinking?" My nephew summed it up when he said, "Aunt DeLauné, I think you are spending more time taking care of needs than painting." But never underestimate the tired muscles of small children. They lasted about 45 minutes, then were done, so my darling nephew took them into the playroom while I finished. Hurrah! And I finally disamantled the dreadful fluorescent light above their sink since a new fixture is coming, and suddenly the bathroom is SO much better. But most important, Geaux Saints!!
xo

My New Favorite Thing

2010-01-28T09:00:00.001-08:00

Awhile back, I read an article in the New York Times Magazine section about Freedom - an application that disables networking on an Apple computer for up to 8 hours at a time. Since then, it is my new best friend for writing. I punch in how long I will write - usually 120-150 minutes - and I'm off. Offline and off to writing. it is heaven. if the perpetual pull of email or "research" on the web is too powerful for you, too, check it out. I happily sent in my 10 dollar donation for it.
xo

my life for the past month

2010-01-20T17:54:00.001-08:00

My husband, Dan Fried, moved his photography studio, H & H Photographers, to the beautiful and historic Stanford White building on the Hudson in Irvington, New York. I handled the design, renovation, decorating, and settling in of the space, so from Thanksgiving until this past Sunday, my life was all about that, other than my two sons who each had birthdays. A busy time! but it is done, and now I get to look forward to the party! if you're in Westchester on Feb 10th - come!
H & H Photographers
50 South Buckhout Street
in Irvington, New York 10533
914.591.4200

here's a little peak at how some of it looks:

Letter about Writing Program

2009-12-13T18:48:00.000-08:00

We are in the midst of graduation events for the students of Spoken Interludes Next, the 8-week outreach writing program I started and run for at-risk children. We had a ceremony at Abbott House where the young men there did a beautiful job reading their stories, and Carolyn Whittle, their teacher, bought them extremely yummy Chinese food to celebrate after.
That's Carolyn with Evan, one of the students, and Jim Morris, who works with the boys at Abbott House.
We also had the graduation event for our classes at Hawthorne Cedar-Knolls and had an amazing day with those kids. I just received this letter from one of the Directors there, and wanted to share it:

Dear DeLauné,

I am writing to convey my sincere admiration and appreciation for the program you have brought to our high school. As you know very well, not many programs are successful with our very special population. We serve the children that society has truly "thrown away". In their short lives our young people have sustained experiences and traumas that would bring many people to their breaking point. As a result, these youth are cynical and have put up walls to prevent getting hurt beyond the wounds they are currently healing.

I didn't know quite what to expect when I came to the final readings. I hadn't had the time to "drop" in during the learning process. And it was a bit frightening for us because we were in the middle of a state audit of our programs and the Regional Associate was invited and attended the final readings as well.

It turned out that I didn't need to worry at all. I needed to have faith in the interaction between your caring and experienced staff and our young people. Scared as they are, our kids wanted to share their thoughts. The selections they read or the teachers read for them were transparent in communicating their fears, their hopes, their dreams, and their traumas. It was very moving.

If you knew their histories, you would be even more amazed at what they shared. We serve children who have witnessed murder, have been prostitutes at age 13 and have been forced into drug distribution as elementary school aged children. Every Friday or day preceding a holiday is a traumatic time in our residential school. Our children don't know if they are welcome back to the chaotic place they call home. The only home they have. Or they may have to stay in the institution with staff that want to be home with their own families. It is so incredibly sad.

These and so many other emotions were so evident in their writings. Their stories conveyed tremendous strength and survival. I heard hope. I see that your program has provided a vehicle for them to put pen to paper as an outlet for this pent up frustration. I could also feel that the participants realized the power of their creative channeling. I just know they will take this experience with them and continue to write. They may never publish. But they may transcend. They may find their voice and their strength.

I couldn't write this to you during the day to day craziness that exists in running a place like this. It took a weekend for me to digest the great meaning in the human interaction you and your staff provided. Our teachers are terrific. However, they are like parents. Too close and too tied to standards and responsibilities to elicit the kind of creativity your staff can pull from our kids. Your program is a perfect compliment to our regular offerings. You may not know that we are NOT funded for any after school activities like clubs that typical kids enjoy. That is another reason your program is so important to a place like our district.

Finally, I will share with you that the SED Regional Associate did tell me that she was also very moved by the presentations. As we all were. Thank you!

DeLauné, I hope we can find funding for another round of classes. I think the kids will line up at the door. The word has spread in the school. Bless you and your staff for what you have done and are doing. You are providing a way for helpless young people to voice their pain and experiences. You are showing them ways to write in order to process their lives and this they can take with them and use in their future as a strategy. This is beyond therapy. It is self realization. And it is portable and not dependent on anyone else. Powerful stuff: writing!

I can't thank you and your wonderful staff enough.

Sincerely,

Chris Casey, Ed.D.
Director of Student Resources
Hawthorne Cedar Knolls Union Free School District

2009-10-19T12:55:00.001-07:00

This is a test of Ping.fm

Spoken Interludes tonight

2009-10-14T20:01:00.000-07:00

We had a great SI tonight. Julie Metz couldn't come, but for a wonderful reason that I can't reveal here, but Tom Vanderbilt and AJ Jacobs were charming and funny and fabulous, and it was heaven hearing them. Some women from the Book Walkers Book Group came out.
I went to their book club last January for Safety of Secrets and the 14 of us sat around talking until almost midnight. They're an amazing book group that also raises money for many issues. Maria, Colleen, and Denise (see above) all walked in the Avon walk this past weekend. 40 miles!! And slept in a tent. I'm still not sure which one I'm more daunted by. it was a really great night. Now to fix a lunch to backpack to school tomorrow!
x0

Mindful in Manhattan

2009-10-09T05:32:00.000-07:00

So, tomorrow I'm going to do an all-day mindfulness retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, my most favorite Zen Buddhist ever. I have heard him speak in LA, and did a week-long, silent meditation retreat with him in Santa Barbara (talk about - no pun intended! - meeting yourself, just be silent for a week), and am so thrilled I get to do a mini-version of that tomorrow. At the retreat in Santa Barbara, we did our mindful walking meditation on the beach; tomorrow's will be on the streets of the Upper West Side - closed to traffic, of course! ;) So I guess the roar of the ocean will be replaced with the roar of traffic on Broadway.
Namasté

Thich Nhat Hanh
Building a Peaceful & Compassionate Society
A Full Day of Mindfulness

Beacon Theatre • Saturday, October 10

9:30 a.m.

Meditation

10:00 a.m.

Dharma Talk

11:30 a.m.

Break

Noon

Mindful Lunch
A mindfulness-based eating meditation is part of this program.

12:45 p.m.

Mindful Walk
The walk will take place outside the theater on streets closed to traffic.

3:00 p.m.

Beginning Anew

4:00 p.m.

Closing

Coming to a website near you...

2009-10-01T18:16:00.001-07:00

So, if you weren't able to get to the 9/14 show in person, or catch it streaming live, it will be available to watch on the Spoken Interludes website very soon. Not that I have any idea how that will happen, but thank God for people like Clara - my amazing webwoman who will make a page where the archived shows will be, and the incredible Paul Fireman at Vivo who made the whole live streaming thing happen in the first place and with only 48 hours to do it in, and on a weekend when we were both (but separately, of course) trying to be with our kids.
So check back, and catch Yeardley Smith, Susan Choi, and Blake Bailey, all of whom were heaven.

Spoken Interludes

2009-09-27T11:36:00.001-07:00

Spoken Interludes Live Broadcast Tonight

2009-09-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

Watch the live broadcast of our Spoken Interludes Salon for September, tonight, September 14th, at 7:30pm eastern time on Vivo.

http://www.vivolive.com/delaune/spokeninterludes

Blake Bailey, Yeardly Smith, and Susan Choi will read from their books. See you tonight!

Robert, Emily, and John

2009-09-07T18:40:00.000-07:00

Well, to quote old Bobby Burns:

The best laid schemes o' mice and men oft go astray.

So, call me mouse or man (just don't call me late for dinner; couldn't resist, sorry!), but astray mine did go. Though here I am blogging with if not renewed vigor, then certainly a sense of hope of being here regularly again.
Cue Emily D:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

Has anyone ever gotten it better than her?
but I digress and digress and digress....
My oldest son starts kindergarten tomorrow.
After he graduated from preschool this past June, I spent four days convinced that we had bedbugs and that we were going to move into my in-law's home while everything was heated past boiling and then sealed for six months. Needless to say, or maybe I do need to say, they were ecstatic about being with their grandsons full time. The worst part of the whole ordeal ended up being when I had to call them and tell them we were staying put. So, a week and a half ago, when I was overly emotional about something, I looked at my husband and said, "No matter what I do or say until mid-September, just repeat to yourself, 'kindergarten.'" He thought it was a great sign that maybe this time we wouldn't have to go through some other kind of faux-infestation (mice, anyone?) for my feelings of... Who are these people, and what are they doing with my child?
Because, frankly, that is exactly how I feel.
And I am still in shock that my entire life's calendar is going to be controlled, in a general but large way, by the Public School System.
As will my son. Sort of, kind of, but really.
And, okay, I know it is all good. Not only good, but great even. Because I also know that we are part of the very lucky ones - he's going to school. Too many children either aren't or have horrible circumstances around that experience, especially this year. Which makes me feel very humbled and grateful and amazed that I got so lucky to be able to have this experience of motherhood, which is common as dirt, but for me holds everything, as does the earth. Like mice. And with that, I'll let Mr. Keats take us out:

The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury,--he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.

Back, Finally

2009-06-24T19:20:00.001-07:00

It's been so long since I've written here that I had to reintroduce myself to my blog. I don't know where April, May, and June went. But I will try a short recap.
I moved Spoken Interludes to the fabulous Chutney Masala on the Hudson River. The food is divine, and I never even thought I cared for Indian food, but it's now my favorite place. Audience favorite Arthur Phillips

read, along with Pam Lewis, and Greg Ames. David Denby talked about his new book, Snark. All wonderful fun.
Then I went to Newburyport for the book festival there, and got to see and catch up with Elinor Lipman, who I adore, and David Ebershoff, who I did a book festival with earlier this year. And I got to see my dear Dubus cousins, which was just wonderful. I missed André's talk, but Dan got to hear him. The boys and I were on a great playground outside during it, but got visit time after. And then to the beach with Peggy. It was a gorgeous day, like summer, and I had no idea it was so close, so that was heaven.

Signing at Newburyport.

Then in mid-May, I went back to the Vo-tech school in lower New Jersey to do my one day outreach writing program workshop I do there twice a year. The kids there are darling and sweet and motivated, and I loved being with them. Here are some of the seniors.

Then we did one more Spoken Interludes because the April show was so fun at Chutney, and I don't have to drive far - my LA years are showing!
Lee Woodruff read and Ben Cheever who is so charming and funny, and I love hearing him read, and Doug Rushkoff, and Joanna Hershon, who I'd be trying to get there forever, so that was a wonderful way to end the season.

Then I did a book festival in Paramus, their first one. The day threatened rain, but it held out, miraculously, since that is all we've had lately. It feels like home.
Anyway, this has been just a hello, I'm still around, blog, but now that I'm back, I'll be here again more soon.
xo

Spoken Interludes Next

2009-04-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

I'm in bed getting better from having a tummy bug :( watching the wind move the pine trees in the back yard, and waiting for soup that Dan is bringing home, the hero. Wednesday was a wonderful, albeit nonstop day. It started with the graduation reading of the students of Spoken Interludes Next, our outreach writing program that is at Mt Pleasant Blythedale UFSD, at Blythedale Children's Hospital, the only New York State public school located within a hospital. What an amazing hour that was. I am including a letter that I received from Ellen Bergman, the superintendent of the school about the morning.

Dear DeLauné,
Your description of the Spoken Interludes Next writing project at the Special Act Coalition superintendent's meeting last year sparked my interest. The opportunity to have published authors teaching my students was very exciting. However, I had no inkling of the profound impact the program would have on the very special seventh and eighth grade students at Mt. Pleasant Blythedale School.

Today we celebrated the achievements of the Spoken Interludes’ writing students and their teachers, Marek Fuchs and Susan Ades Stone. I’m sure you recognized the pride expressed in the voices and on the faces of the students. As patients at Blythedale Children’s Hospital, these adolescents have little control over their physical conditions. They have few opportunities to celebrate their individual creativity, and bask in the admiration of their peers.
• S. who has Cerebral Palsy is reluctant to speak in public. Yet with great pride he read his narrative describing his feelings about attending a recent concert featuring his favorite musicians.
• L. who has Osteogenesis Imperfecta has strong feeling of nostalgia for her native country, the Dominican Republic. Spoken interludes allowed her to give voice to those feelings and to share them with her peers.
• D. has Hemophilia and resisted coming to school, preferring to stay in his hospital bed playing video games. Reluctantly, he attended one Spoken Interludes class and then another and now school attendance is no longer an issue.
• J. has Guillan Barre and fatigues easily. He was angry about his illness and the resulting lengthy hospital stay. Spoken Interludes gave him the opportunity to imagine a world of strength and adventure, and regain some hope for his own future.

Thank you for giving all of the students at MPB experiences they will treasure long after their bodies heal. Your teachers have nourished their souls and taught them life affirming skills.
I hope that you will consider the students at Mt. Pleasant Blythedale UFSD as you plan for future Spoken Interludes programs.
Sincerely,
Ellen Bergman
Superintendent of Schools
EB/aa

It was truly amazing to see these children read their stories. I was hoping to take the program to them twice a year, but after being with them, I want them to have it at least three times a year to reach as many as those children as we can. I told Ellen that we'd be there this summer, and then thought, "With what money?!" But where there is a will, there is a way; I have never doubted that. And yesterday, I got a surprise donation for 500. and that will cover a third of the cost of the program there, so I feel sure we will be able to be there after all. What courage those children have. One more time, I felt like I was getting the gift by being with them. And the writers who taught the program, Marek and Susan, were amazing. I feel blessed that they are part of this program.
Then I drove to Norwalk Community College to be part of a panel on Youth Activism. One of the other panelists, David Burstein, was so inspiring. He started a nonprofit last year called 18 in 08 and registered over 25,000 voters between the ages of 18 and 25 before the elections. Don't miss his website. He's only 22 and is doing great things. I could have listened to him for hours.
Then I went to Abbott House back here in Westchester to sit in on a Spoken Interludes Next class that we are doing there, and to meet with Colleen Michelle Jones from the Rivertowns Enterprise, who is doing an article about the program. Colleen is a doll, and a lovely writer, and her support of the program means so much to me. The class I sat in on was on Setting - the program is an 8 week program that takes the students through the process of writing a short story and each class focuses on a different element of the story. I listened while Marek - who is also teaching that group - did a wonderful job of working with the boys, but had to bite my tongue not to jump in. I wanted to work with them so badly. I miss teaching in the program so much, and am thrilled that is starting without me, but look forward to being able to when both of my sons are in school, but at least I can be connected this way. I did have a chance to work with them a bit, and felt such a connection with them. One of the boys is a natural writer, his work was so gorgeous and engrossing, and another wants to be a therapist. I gave them all hugs at the end, and can't wait to hear them read at their graduation. I should have pictures soon, and will put them up here. I love working with those kids, and am so glad I am able to vicariously until I really can.
xo

Monday, Monday

2009-03-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

It's a wonderful blustery Monday, and there is some blue sky peeking through the clouds, and I think the winter weather might finally be ending. Please God. Frankly, I'd like to drive a stake through the heart of this past winter. It was ferocious and lasted forever. For this entire past month, my two sons and I have had some form of cold or virus or cough, and it was hard not to feel that it was the winter's way of saying, "I may have to end, but I won't let you forget who's boss." Okay, Uncle! You win. Now, please go away!! Sorry for the rant. You can tell that I am out of denial about my feelings about the cold. Anyway. I did have another Spoken Interludes last Thursday night - didn't take pictures :( - and I loved every writer who was there. So many people said to me, as they were leaving, that it was the best show they'd been to. The shows are like my children, I don't have a favorite, but I can say that it was like one of those glorious afternoons when the boys and I are having a great time playing, and everything is perfect and pure fun. That's how the evening was. Marek Fuchs, Joshua Henkin, David Ebershoff, and John Burnham Schwartz all read. And can we just take a moment to acknowledge that group?? We all could have listened to each of them the entire evening. It was an embarrassment of riches in terms of their talent, and generosity of spirit, and showmanship. I feel so blessed that I get to show up and be with the audience members that I adore, and either meet, or see again, writers that I love and respect, and hear their work and their thoughts on their work. When I was doing the shows in LA every month, one thing that made me really happy was that it was one of the few places in that town that when someone was introduced to someone there, they didn't ask what they did for a living, they asked how they found out about Spoken Interludes. It was a like an underground literary club, and I loved that, everyone coming together on the basis of loving the written word and the desire to hear stories. I felt that so strongly the other night. If you haven't read the newest books by Marek, Joshua, David, or John, run don't walk to your nearest bookstore. They are all divine. And at the show, a very interesting theme emerged from the readings, as one always seems to, of people being trapped or encapsulated in a community or institution, and it was great getting to hear the different ways that was developed.
I did a panel at the Irvington Library yesterday for the Rivertowns Arts Council. It was on Creativity and Motherhood led by Carrie Barron, and it was wonderful to hear the other artist talk about juggling these things, and connect with the audience on it. My sister-in-law, Judy Siegel, came which meant so much to me. Her husband, Jon, just became mayor of Irvington, a more fair man I have never met, so we will all be in very capable hands once he gets sworn in next week. And speaking of creativity, off to work on my novel. Happy Monday!
xo

New York State of Mind

2009-03-24T19:00:00.001-07:00

So, I'm in Utica to speak at Utica College tomorrow as part of their visiting writers series, and figured I'd write before I fall asleep. I'm away from the boys again, though just for the night, and only a 3 and a half hour drive away, but still. Some very fun people from the college - pictures will be up when I get home and have my camera cable to download - took me out to a very yummy dinner, and when I got back to the hotel, I called to say goodnight, and I told my oldest son that I missed him. He said, I don't miss you. I said, that's okay. Then he said, I just want to hug you. I told him that I always want to hug him. The two year old got on the phone, and told me of a big accomplishment he had, then put down the phone to dance in celebration of it. Very sweet. I miss them. And want to hug them
This past Friday night, I drove to Central Valley, NY, about 40 minutes away from me, not too far over the Tappan Zee bridge, to have dinner with The BookWalkers, a book club that had read both of my books. I loved these women.
They were so warm and open and fun. I felt like I had known them forever. We all talked nonstop. A bunch of them even live on the same street, and I could feel how connected they are to each other. They have created an amazing community for themselves with this group, and they also raise money for charities and do walks and runs. They all brought books to donate to the Pediatrics Clinic in Yonkers that I am doing the bookdrive for - they are goddesses. I got there about 7:30 and didn't leave until after 11 and couldn't believe it was that late. It was one of those great evenings where I felt so lucky and happy to be a woman who gets to be able to walk into a room of women that I don't know, but within the space of half an hour, am able to share and connect and get so much from them. They gave me the best gift. They let me be part of their magic circle. I drove home feeling so bouyed up by it. And now I'm up here inUtica - two hours north on the 87 to Albany, then west on the 90 for an hour and half. It is such a beautiful drive; it is all farms, and Victorian houses, and light straight out of an Edward Hopper - getting to be with people here, and hear their stories, and be part of this. And I got to have all that wonderful driving/writing time. Virginia Woolf used to walk her novels; I love to drive them. So it was great having 3 plus hours of silent, novel-thinking/processing/flow time. And I get more tomorrow on the drive home. Heaven!
xo

My sister Elizabeth showed me how to use my camera!!!

2009-03-17T09:02:00.000-07:00

So, my wonderful sister, Elizabeth, showed me how to download the pictures off my new camera, and find them on my computer, so I can put them up here. Hooray!! Here are a few that I've wanted to put up:

This was at BookMania in Stuart, Florida before our panel. From Left to right is: Lily Koppel, Diane McKinney-Whetstone, me, Garth Stein and Diane Hammond. They were great fun.

If you have a layover in the Atlanta airport - eat here!! I love Paschal's. They have amazing grits and biscuits, and my flight got me there just in time to have some before they stopped serving them at 11. Yum!

Here's the building at SUNY Albany where I spoke in February as part of the Sexuality Week on Campus. Afterwards, I had dinner with Dan's first cousin, and that was nice having a chance to have a real visit that wasn't in the midst of a large family gathering.

This is the King's Cake that the boys and I made a couple of Saturday's ago on that beautiful, spring-like day we had when it was in the 60's. We were playing in the sandbox, and went in for lunch, and somehow the idea of making a cake came up, and even though King's day and Mardi Gras were past, King's cake is always yummy, and it was great fun making our own. The boys especially loved watching it rise twice, and then painting it with the colored sugar once it was baked. My 5 year old took that picture.

I ran into Michael Gates Gill at the Tucson Festival of Books last Sunday. Mike read at Spoken Interludes last fall, and I really adore him. It was great getting to see him again. And here I am with Bonnie Marson, my fellow panelist. She was good fun.
And last, but definitely not least, here with my sister Pamela, in front of the cacti. She was such a dear to fly in from Albuquerque to meet me there. Made all the difference in the world to me.

An Airport Kind of Day

2009-03-16T08:09:00.000-07:00

I'm in the Tucson airport waiting for a plane. I got here at 6 am, hoping to fly stand-by. Rather, fulling believing that I would fly stand-by because when I spoke to my travel agent on Friday, she said there were six seats left on the plane, so surely (don't call me Shirley - sorry!) I'd be fine. I wasn't fine. It's spring break, so the 7:10 am plane was over sold. As was the 8:20, and the 9:30, and the 10:40, and that leaves me going out on the flight that was originally booked, 11 something, I'll check my boarding pass, God knows, I have time. I won't get back to NY until 8:30 tonight which is the unpleasant part because I was really hoping/wanting/needing to get back to my sons this afternoon. They have done fine. They held up well. Dan said they fell asleep in the van on the way home from the zoo (they went out to breakfast and then to the zoo to see the camels and sea lions and zebras - their faves!), and when they woke up, they were both crying and wanting me. :( Okay, so I'm a lightweight. 3 days and 2 nights is too long for me without my sons, and my husband, but mostly my sons. We talked on the phone and Dan emailed me pictures of them. If I could have figured out where the damn pictures were on my computer that I downloaded from the new camera that Dan got me when my old camera (that I was able to work) broke, then I would have been able to email pictures to them, and even post some here, but I will figure it out, though it's been tres annoying. Almost as annoying as people throwing in a lame French word in a thoroughly lame way. Anyway, I miss my sons. I am keeping my older son home from preschool tomorrow, and we will go to the Maritime Aquarium in Norwalk to see the penguins that they just got there, so that will be great fun. My older son called me on my cell phone this morning when I was in the cab on the way to the airport. It was 5:30 am Tucson time, so 8:30 Irvington time. He told me that his father was telling him what to do too much. I asked him if that had anything to do with going to school. He said it did. I told him that I understood not wanting to go, but it would make the time go faster until I got home. He said maybe for you, but not for me. I reminded him that he didn't go to school on Friday. He said that was then, this is today. Can we just apply to law school now??? I told him that Momma and Daddy's job is to work and his job is to go to school, then quickly changed the subject and asked what he had for breakfast, knowing full well that he hadn't eaten yet. I could hear the low-blood sugar in his voice. He said that Dan had made oatmeal. Okay, is he a hero or what?? Cooking, for God's sake. Though Dan could have made ice cream floats (remember Coke Floats when you were a kid?? My sisters and I LOVED those), and my son wouldn't have been happy. I suggested he ask Daddy to make him a waffle (a frozen one from Whole Foods that my older sister, Elizabeth saved the day by picking up for us when she went there last week), and that did the trick. Hooray! But I wish I were already home. Though I did have a great weekend. The festival was wonderful. It was the first one they ever had, but you wouldn't have known it. Every detail was thought out and perfect; the crowds were huge; the weather stunning. It was a glorious weekend. Not least of which was seeing Garth Stein again. We did a panel together at a festival in Florida in January, so it was great fun to see him again yesterday. He came to my panel and I went to his. If he is in your area, don't miss him!!! I assume you've already read his The Art of Racing in the Rain, which is incredible; be prepared to laugh and cry. I also ran into Michael Gates Gill in the author's lounge at the festival. Mike is amazing. Get his book, How Starbucks Saved My Life. It is a beautiful story of transformation and redemption, two subjects close to my heart. And Mike is a joy, so it was a treat to see him again. My panel was with Bonnie Marson whose book, Sleeping with Shubert is a wonderful read. I really enjoyed doing the panel with her. Our topic was writing without fear or an MFA, and the audience had so many questions that the moderator, Laura Fitzgerald, barely had to speak, but she was lovely. It was interesting to hear Bonnie's process. We had some interesting overlap, but a lot of differences in how we work that I think it gave a nice full view. But the nicest part of the weekend was that my sister Pamela who lives in Albuquerque flew in and was with me from Saturday afternoon until Sunday afternoon. I don't think we've had alone time together since I visited her in Albuquerque ages and ages ago. It was really heavenly. I felt like we were able to reconnect in our relationship from who we are now. There was finally the time and space to do that. I feel so blessed to have her, and my other sisters. All that shared history and shorthands. We had so many laughs - Pam is hysterical - and got to realize some similarities in our lives that we hadn't before, and isn't that a gift? So, other than missing the boys so much that it made me ache, it was a glorious, heavenly weekend - and with sun!! I feel very fortunate to have been able to go. Thank you, wonderful, supportive husband!! Earlier this morning, I was at a kiosk getting a cup of coffee, and telling Dan on my cell phone that it didn't look like I'd get back earlier, and he was so relaxed about it, and so happy that I had come here, and I said to him, "I have the best husband." And the woman next to me said, "No, I do." Love her!!!
xo

77

2009-03-13T13:03:00.002-07:00

I am flying to Tucson tomorrow to be part of the first annual Tucson Festival of Books. I am thrilled to be going, not least because the weather is going to be 77 there on Sunday. 77! Spring is definitely trying to start arrive here, but it's not 77. Though last weekend, it was wonderfully warm here, and the boys and I were able to be home all day. That is my favorite day in the world: all of home with no place we have to be at a certain time, and just able to play and eat and laugh and hang out and be home. So, the 2 year old and I were in the kitchen getting water, and my 5 year old was digging in the dirt at his construction site next to the driveway, when he came running in and said, "Momma, some thing's happened; come see." I figured a truck had broken from the ice, or some mishap, but then he said, "Come, some thing wonderful happened." And he led us outside, and there in the bed under the front window was the first flower of spring. That made my heart sing. To see it, and that he had found it, and showed it to me in that way. So, this long, cold winter is of the past, but it is still trying to hang on. I, for one, will not be sad to see it go. I kept my 5 year old home from pre-school this morning, since I'll be gone this weekend, so we played Tigers and Zoo keeper this morning, always a favorite.
My sister who lives in Albuquerque is going to meet me in Tucson and spend Saturday night with me. I'm looking forward to a sisters weekend. I told her that I feel like such a grown-up getting to have a girls' weekend, and she said that she feels like a kid going to a slumber party, so there's perspective for you! I'm going to miss the boys, especially, and I know this sounds crazy, at the airports - I'm changing planes in Dallas - because, one) airports are my sons favorite places in the world, and two) flying brings up terrible existential angst for me. I don't have a fear of dying on a plane, rather it is that going to an airport makes me think of what it must be life to leave this life and be in that transition before the next thing, and being a (trying, at least) practicing Buddhist, I think it is another life. I probably never should have watched that Albert Brooks movie, "Defending Your Life" since it is all about that in-between time and its setting looks suspiciously like an airport. But anyway. I have no doubt the festival will be great fun, and my sons and husband won't eat any of the food I am making and leaving for them, and will subsist on pizza and I'll be thrilled to see them upon arriving home. I'm feeling nervous/sad about being gone from them. At dinner tonight, my two year old said, “Momma bye bye tomorrow plane." Then he crawled into my lap. "Me hum. (for 'me come') Me hum.” Totally broke my heart. :(
xo

The Sky is Crying

2009-03-10T19:14:00.001-07:00

Tuesday night. We just came home from paying a Shiva call to our Rabbi whose 19 year old son died in a tragic accident this past Friday night. We went to the funeral yesterday morning. It rained during the funeral, and it is raining now. The sanctuary was filled when we arrived, so we sat in the huge, crowded tent they had erected outside and watch the tv monitors of the funeral. The eulogy was the most beautiful and eloquent I've ever heard. I don't know how Rabbi Billy and his wife and two children were able to sit there and not just break down wailing on the floor. God bless them. It is horrendously, unbearably sad. When the service was over, and they got up to leave with the coffin, I remembered burying my father, and how I felt that I was trapped inside a machine that was made up of the most benevolent and loving people, but people who were setting into motion the burying of my father, and how I wanted to stand up and yell and stop it somehow, and how I couldn't, and how I was forced to do the absolutely completely very last thing on earth I had ever wanted to do. And yesterday, I saw Rabbi Billy get up from his chair at the end of the service, and I knew he was at that point where the rituals are moving forward, and you have no choice but to move forward with them, but all you want to do is yell and scream that this can't be happening, this can't be happening. And mine was my father, a death I had assumed would happen before my own. Not my son. Not a child. No one should have to walk through this. He was so kind to us when we got married. We had a hard time finding a Rabbi to perform the ceremony since I haven't converted to Judaism, but Rabbi Dreskin was so loving and embracing, and has made Dan and I and our children feel so welcome and part of the community. For him, it is all about the spirit, and I love that. I am so deeply despondent about what has happened to his son. If you have any extra prayers, please use them for Rabbi Dreskin and his family.
xo

2009-03-02T18:26:00.000-08:00

Monday night. Dan and I just finished the crossword puzzle. Monday's always goes fast; a nice consolation for the hell of Friday and Sunday. My youngest called me in twice for more milk after I put him to bed. As I was carrying him to the kitchen to get it, his wispy hair was kind of being blown back off his forehead, and he was looking ahead with a smile on his face, and it was as if he were on the brow of a ship, he looked so happily expectant of his near future. We went into the kitchen where Dan was reading the paper, and my son said, "Last time," and grinned, because he knows that's what I say when he has these little requests. We have school tomorrow, he and I do a Mommy and Me class at the preschool that my 5 year goes to, and my youngest is very excited about that. "Scool?" he kept saying, when I told that we have school tomorrow and he needs a good night sleep. We had a snow day today, and that was great fun. We've had a big work site in their bedroom, with all the trucks moving blocks and going through tunnels and car washes and all kinds of things, so that work continued this morning. Then the babysitter came and I got to have some writing time, and then when I finished, we played a spinning game called Nana Blanana, so named because my sons were eating... you guessed it, while they named the game. Lately when my youngest son picks up something to play with, he says, "My favorite" because he has seen the magical powers that phrase concurs on his brother's toys, all sharing rules can possibly cease. This is a totally meandering entry that seems to have no point at all. Sorry!
xo

Let the Games Begin

2009-02-25T19:10:00.000-08:00

It's 10ish Wednesday night. Dan and I are doing the NY Times crossword puzzle (I just got polaris and gator, if you did today's), so I figured I'd finally catch up here, in between figuring out 5 letters for "like a towelette" (moist). We have also become big Ken Ken players which now appears above the crosswords every day. Our friends, Robert Fuhrer and Lisa Shamus, developed the game. We gave out a bunch of the Ken Ken books for the holidays, and if you haven't played it, check it out. Great fun.
So winter break was last week, and the boys and I did lots of fun stuff. We went to the Museum of Art and Design in the city to see the second lives: remixing the ordinary exhibit. Wonderful works. We especially loved the chandelier made out of eye glasses. (Just realized that "gator" was wrong). As my sons and I were getting our tickets, I saw a woman that I recognized from Phil Gushee's Meisner acting class that I took forever ago. It was fun to say hello. Brought back tons of memories of repetition and independent activities - Meisner's two touchstone exercises. There was one guy in the class - very talented - who used to play that song "Higher Love" all the time on his walkman - yes, this is very pre-iPod. We went to see the big Van Gogh retrospective at the Met together that year, and we splurged on the Phillipe de Montebello audio tour of it, passing the headphones back and forth to each other as we walked through the galleries. We were broke. I was waitressing, and I can't remember what he did. I can't even remember his name. We were just friends, acting class friends. But what a great time that was. I remember one morning waking up after working late at the restaurant, and I think I was going to do my voice work (not singing, the acting kind) and then go for a run, and I remember lying in my bed, in the small bedroom that I had in the large pre-war apartment on West End Avenue that I shared with a NY politician's daughter and a producer on 60 Minutes (Richard is still on that show, I saw his credit on a segment recently. He was such a sweet man), and realizing that I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. I didn't have a lot of money, but I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. That was a wonderful moment. And I knew I was lucky. Not that it was easy, though what is? But I still got to be doing, pursuing what I wanted. (Dan just figured out that the correct answer for the "gator" clue is otter). Anyway.
So the museum was great fun, and then we fought the masses at Whole Foods in Columbus Circle for lunch. We went with friends, but it was so crowded that we sat at adjacent tables, and I would have killed for a cup of their good coffee, but wasn't up to the line for it.
The next day, the boys and I went ice skating. Okay, all I can say is that if you read that sentence and it didn't give you pause (considering that I wrote it) then, like the refrain to that terrible song, "You don't know me." Okay, seriously, I am so not the ice skater person. But my eldest son has been wanting to go, so I made plans for a lesson for him, and then a friend suggested we go for our play date, and I thought how perfect that my son can go with friends on the day before his lesson, assuming the whole time that I would just watch from the sidelines, waving with gusto every time they passed, secretly thrilled that I wasn't on the ice. Oh, how that was smashed. Though if it had to be with anyone, then this was the perfect time because our friend is great on the ice, but I still was scared of wiping out at every moment. Though, okay, on Friday, I did get a pass because my 2 year old couldn't go on the ice, so he and I stayed on the side (hooray!) and my eldest went the whole way around the rink with my friend and his daughter. I was so proud of him; he was a total natural. All I could think was it was the Yankee in him coming out. So I figured even more surely that during the lesson I'd be able to just hang on the sides. What was I thinking?? My son is not a go-off-with-a-person-he's-never-met kind of kid, so I put on the rental skates, and dutifully trudged out there to the middle of the rink. I asked Heather, the very sweet teacher, how much of ice skating is psychological. She said 50% which shocked me. I think it has to be more like 75. At least for me. Because the thing is is that I could do it. I did it. We had the lesson - march, march, march, gliiiiiiide. march, march, march, gliiiiiiiiiide. Shoulders back! Chest up! Arms out for balance! "I don't need them out for balance," my 5 year old son said. And actually, he didn't, God bless him. And then after the lesson, he and I went around the rink all by ourselves. Okay, this may sound small to you, but this is huge for me. But here's the thing. I was skating; we did skate, but I realized later that the whole time I was skating, I never really could picture myself skating. And I still kind of can't. Then a few days later I realized that a part of me doesn't want to be able to picture myself skating. That I have some attachment (hello, Zen and the Samsara of attachment) to a definition of myself as not being able to skate. When I called my sole friend here in Westchester who I was friends in Baton Rouge, as I figured she would appreciate this more than anyone, she said, "Well, there's a metaphor for balance." Which I took more in relation to my son than to me since I still can't even picture myself doing what I already did. Though I'd better be able to soon since we have another lesson this Sunday. March, march, march, gliiiiiiiiide. March, march, march, gliiiiiiiiide...............
xo

The Big 1

2009-02-16T18:41:00.000-08:00

So, tomorrow is my one year blog anniversary. My husband just walked into the kitchen where I'm writing this, and his response to this information was, "Mazel tov." He always knows just what to say. ;) If I remember correctly, the traditional gift for the first anniversary is paper, which really is rather odd. Paper what? Maché?? Or maybe note cards for the bride to finally write her thank you notes? Maybe that's what it's for. So you have a polite way of reminding the delinquent Mrs. that she never sent a note. Which actually has happened to me in the not too distant past with a bride that I don't know terribly well, but was invited to the wedding, and even though we couldn't go, I still wanted to help celebrate her big day. At the odd moments when I do remember that we never heard from her about our gift, I wonder if I should ask one of her family members to check because if the gift didn't ever get there, I want the store to send another. Frankly, that is all I really care about in a thank you note. It could even just be a stamped message saying, "Got it - thanks!!" Anyway, I hope she is using the stuff in good health, as my mother-in-law would say.
I had no intention of writing about thank you note etiquette. Though that is a subject that I have probably been traumatized by more than most considering that I grew up having to write thank you notes to my sisters. And I have four of them. It has only been in this past year, and with the excuse of two young sons, that I have declared a personal revolution to this and decided that with a close family member, if I tell them in person or on the phone how much I love/use the gift, then that will just have to do. And the terrible truth is that even as I write that, I am sure that the ceiling of social correctness is going to come crashing down on my head. Oh, to be momentarily not Southern.
Anyway. I did write my thank you notes - happily and sincerely - for three events I did recently. The class I led at Bard College at Simon's Rock in Great Barrington was a wonderful experience. What a bright group of young women. They were very passionate and verbal. The class was "Violence and Gender" and I led a discussion on sexual abuse and recovery based on my second book - not to give the plot away! ;) I also did a similar lecture at SUNY Albany last week as part of their Sexuality Week. They started this event 16 years ago, and were the first college to devote a week to these issues. The students were a great group. And it was co-ed, so that was interesting. I thought the boys were very brave to stay through it. Not that it was anti-male at all, but still, talking about some of that stuff can be tricky. One male student was sitting right next to me, (it was originally set up as a lecture, but I pulled out a chair, and got everyone to sit in a circle with me) and at certain points, his right leg was jumping 20 miles a minute. But he joined in the discussion and was very enthusiastic at the end. It was great to connect with them. And I got to see family on both of these trips. My sons and I stayed with my sister and her son in Great Barrington for the Simon's Rock class, so that became a big trucks-and-planes-and-anything-with-wheels kind of weekend. And then after the SUNY Albany lecture, I got to have dinner with my husband's first cousin before I drove back home, and that was fun to have real visit time. Last week, I also did an interview with Ben Cheever on his cable tv show where he interviews writers. The show is on in Westchester, and when I have more info about it, I will put it on my website, if you care to watch it. If you do, watch it for him, as he is thoroughly charming and funny. He read at Spoken Interludes a year or so ago, (happily, he will come back next fall), and I adored him reading there, so wasn't surprised that this side of him was fun, too.
And his team there was also great. Shane, the station manager, had lived in Russia for a good while, so he and I were able to talk about the Moscow Art Theatre and how often does that happen?? Made me remember my acting student days where MAT was the holy grail, and Strasberg our humble vehicle to get there. Or not - like "The Three Sisters", but isn't that point??
Anyway. I talked with Ben about Chekhov, as I look up to him more than any other writer, and Ben told me how fashionable Chekhov has gotten lately and that was a shock. But I guess now that everyone has finally discovered Richard Yates - hooray for that long overdue event - Chekhov is next. And speaking of Yates, Blake Bailey who wrote a beautiful memoir of Yates, is coming out with one of John Cheever that I am very much looking forward to reading. Ben told me that he feels that Blake very much caught the spirit of his father, and I can't think of a better compliment for a biographer than that. Blake will be on Ben's show soon, too, so try to catch that if you're in the 914 area code.
Time to toddle to bed.
xo

Cold and Colder

2009-02-05T17:16:00.000-08:00

It is 17 degrees out. The only reason that is bearable is that I got to stay home all day, venturing out only once to pick up my oldest son from my sister, Elizabeth, who got him from preschool and took him to lunch at the Eldorado diner (his favorite restaurant) as a treat. He always gets pancakes, and is always very happy when he has alone time with Aunt Lilbit. Our driveway is all but impassable with the snow and ice, so my youngest son and I drove down and got him from her car, and brought him back up. We are up on a hill, surrounded by trees, and the snow is very deep, and looking out the back windows, made me feel like we could be out on a farm somewhere. We played airplane for awhile. I was the only passenger, and was given water before I asked for it which I think would be a nice thing for real airlines to emulate, but I'm not holding my breath, and I was assured there would be tasty treats, but none were forthcoming. The steward kept checking my seat belt and giggling hysterically, and the pilot kept announcing that we were about to take off on a "derecks" flight to Looziana - his favorite place to fly to. I asked the pilot if he would like some popcorn, and that was a big hit.
We made a big bowl of popcorn, and lit a fire, and sat on the couch eating popcorn and talking about school. My oldest got so overcome with how much he actually likes school, that he decided he wanted to go to school tomorrow instead of going to Great Barrington with me and his little brother to spend the weekend with his cousin and aunt. I am speaking at a class at Simon's Rock College tomorrow, (my sister is on faculty there) and then we'll get to have a nice weekend with them - and more cold!! But he came around, and will go with me, once I explained that I can't drive up to do the class, and drive back to get him, and then go back up.
But I respect that he tried.
I just got this picture from the BookMania festival of me with Rick Bragg. What a doll he is. I loved getting to visit with him. Really made me feel like home. Wish I were down there now.

6 More Weeks

2009-02-03T18:51:00.000-08:00

I was away in Florida last week seeing my in-laws with my husband and sons after the incredibly fun and wonderful BookMania festival in Stuart, Florida. I had such a great time. So much fun that it even made up for the fact that it was my first night ever away from my two boys. I had to fly separately from them, even though we all flew into West Palm Beach, and as I was connecting planes in Atlanta, I realized that I felt unmoored, as if my bearings were off. I missed them. And I realized that I have become so used to every second of my day being either involved completely with them, or immediately jumping into getting some work done (or falling into bed), that it felt as if my brain didn't know what to do with all this time that didn't have demands upon it. Especially once I checked into the hotel and was getting dressed for the cocktail party (I didn't wear any of those clothes I had bought, in fact, had returned them before I even got down to Fla, knowing they'd be wrong, and they would have been). I am so used to knowing the exact minimal number of minutes I need to get dressed or prepare myself for something, that having all that time made my mind feel like it was trying to feel cozy in the Grand Canyon. I couldn't believe how vast it was. And I am only talking about an hour and half, but I haven't had an hour and a half to get dressed when no one asked me - or needed me - to do anything else in five years. It was lovely, but I'm not heartbroken I don't always have it. There is a lot to be said for not having much time to care about what I wear. Though I did call my friend, Jené, in NY to get her advice about wearing the pants I had worn on the plane with a dressier top to the party because once I got down there, I realized that the dress I had brought for the party was completely wrong. And thank God, she's great visually, an interior designer after all, and told me to ditch the dress and I'm so glad I did.
Anyway. I had a great time at the party with Karin Slaughter, what a hoot she is. I've always loved her books, and now love her. And Hallie Ephron, whose sister Amy read at Spoken Interludes in LA, and whose ex-brother-in-law I am friends with but haven't seen in years, so got caught up on them. Then I had dinner with my cousin Alafair, who I hadn't seen in too long, and David Ebershoff, whose book, Pasadena, I loved and he's going to read at Spoken Interludes with his newest, The 19th Wife, and I'm thrilled about that. The loveliest people - Jim and Cher Foth, and Maggi and Roger - took us out to dinner at a beautiful harbor club and regaled us with great stories about Scientology and run-ins with Coast Guard and transporting Baby Doc. Then the panel the next morning was great fun. Garth Stein was hysterical and very touching about his book, and Lily Koppel was fascinating about hers, and the two Dianes, Diane Hammond and Diane McKinney-Whetstone, were both wonderful. And the crowd was great. I was so impressed with what a perfect festival that community puts on. It was an amazing treat.
Then I was driven back to the airport where Dan and the boys picked me up, and it felt great to be a momma again, and we lived in bathing suits for a week and didn't have a schedule and only cared about sunscreen and ate French fries every day and remembered what the sun is and were bolstered enough to make it through the next 6 weeks of winter that that damn groundhog has decided we are going to have.
xo

Let Freedom Ring

2009-01-20T18:24:00.001-08:00

I joined most of the country, if not world, today and watched the Inauguration. My oldest son's preschool lets out at 11:45. Usually, he plays on the field with his friends when I pick him up, but today I explained to him that we needed to get home to watch our new president get sworn in. He wanted to know what the president is. I told him that New York state is like his classroom, but instead of Mrs. Marinas, we have a governor. And the whole country is like his school, but instead of Sasha (the administrator), we have a president who helps make the rules, and works to make sure that everyone is taken care of and okay. This seemed to make sense to him.
We got home just as Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman were performing. Wasn't it glorious? Both of my sons sat on my lap, and were captivated. I had just started to cry, when suddenly the picture turned to black. I realized that my two year old was holding one of the many remotes that I have no idea what they do and had pushed some button and now there was nothing on the screen. Dan had Tivo'd the events before he left for work, but I really wanted to see it live. I could not figure out how to get a picture back, so I called Dan, interrupting a meeting - oops! - but if there is anything to interrupt a meeting about it is watching Obama become president. Dan walked me through, demonstrating the patience of a saint, and there on the TV was Obama giving his speech. My sons and I sat down again, though they were less interested now that the cello and violin weren't on anymore, but I adored every word. When Obama talked about how his father would not have been served at a restaurant sixty years ago, and now he here was, I started to cry. My oldest son asked me why I was crying, and I said because I am very, very happy. I hope he remembers this event. They never see me watch TV, so that alone might make it memorable enough, but I hope he remembers something of it. One of my earliest memories is when Mildred, the nanny who raised me, left. It wasn't long after Martin Luther King was shot, and Momma told me years later that Mildred just couldn't take the South anymore after that. I must have been three the afternoon she went away, but I'll never forget hugging her thin legs, and trying to keep her from leaving. She walked out the door in a blur of white from her uniform's skirt and her cigarette's smoke. All I knew was that she had to go because of someone named Martin Luther King, and I wanted to know who he was.
Five years ago, my oldest son was born on Martin Luther King day, and when he arrived, I felt that Mildred must have had a hand in it, where ever she was. I'm just so happy that the world he came into is so different from the one that she and I were in together back then.

The Sounds of Silence

2009-01-18T08:55:00.000-08:00

I am home alone, a rare and unusual feat. Dan took the boys to my mother's apartment that she keeps in Tarrytown. My oldest son, I am sure, is having a wonderful time playing with his cousin who lives in Great Barrington, and is, in his mind, the best thing in the universe, better even than airplanes. My youngest son is being doted on and played with by my mother and sister, and he will come home and talk about them for hours. And Dan is, no doubt, sprawling on the couch with the NY Times, and a game on the telly. When I told him that he would be able to watch sports to his heart's content over there, he said, "Cutie, it's an important day!" I am guessing that the upcoming Superbowl has something to do with that statement. I don't really know, though I look forward to hearing about it upon his return. What I do know is that I am immersing myself in quietude, and it is heaven. When they left, I straightened the house, and started a load of wash. I am one of the odd birds who actually enjoys light housekeeping, note I said "light"! Part of it is that it feels like a reclaiming of my home, a mini-nesting, as it were. It is also a great time for idle, rambling, stream-0f-conscious thought that always gives me information about the novel I am working on, and on my life in general. And also, because a novel is such a long process, there is a deep satisfaction in doing something and seeing an immediate result. A bed made. An egg cooked. Dishes washed. I finished the Sunday Times that came yesterday, (our delivery person can't make it up our driveway in the snow we are having, so Dan took the paper that came today out of mailbox at the bottom of the hill with him to Momma's), worked out on the rowing machine - my new love and life saver. I can even do it when the kids are around which is great because I refuse to pay someone to watch them so I can work out. And I caught up on a little email, am writing this, and will go have a long bath, and then I will sit in my living room and look out the long wall of windows that is the back of my house, and look at the snow, and be in a home where nothing is moving, and revel in silence and stillness.
xo

Wrapped Up and Tied With a Bow

2009-01-11T16:19:00.000-08:00

It was (is) my birthday today, and it was a really lovely one. My sons woke me at 7:30 by tumbling onto the bed with cards they had made, and they snuggled up on each side while I read them. My almost five year old signs his name any chance he gets, so his had a huge signature, and my two year old had a piece of paper with beautiful scribbles on it, but as my oldest explained, "he thinks it says something." so we all pretended it did. Then Dan brought me tea in bed, made perfectly I might add, and I got to read some of the Stephen Pinker article in the NY Times Magazine section about genomes - really fascinating, then Dan made me Rocky Mountain toast which was totally yummy. Then Walter wanted to make cupcakes for Katie, our babysitter's daughter, since it's her birthday tomorrow, and the two year old needed a diaper change, and the dishes needed doing, and I was trying to get out the house for yoga, and I looked at Dan and said, "Cutie, you're being me." And he said, "I know, and it's really hard." I told him that there wasn't anything in all of Tiffany's that would have meant more to me than what he said. So, I went to a class at Yogaworks (hooray for downward dog) and they figured out how to make the cupcakes on their own. Then I came home and we all went for lunch at City Limits Diner where they have a great tuna melt and fries - my fave meal right now. The boys mostly ignored their pancakes, and ate my fries and played with their trucks. Then we braved the mall. And actually, it wasn't terrible. We found a great coffee table at Crate and Barrel at a ridiculous price (cheaper than the sale price) because it was the floor sample, and we've been needing to replace the steamer trunk we've been using forever, so that was a nice happenstance, and then I found an outfit, also on sale - love having a birthday during January - at J Crew. For some reason, the skirt isn't on the website, but it it's a great, kinda short, but not too, really simple black skirt with a bit of a retro feel to it, and here is the top. Okay, it looks awful on the web, but I promise it is really fun with the skirt. I think they will be great for a cocktail reception I have to go to next Friday in Florida, near Boca, at BookMania, a book festival I am doing. If you are down there, come by. It looks like it will be much fun. I love a lot of the other authors they are having, including my cousin, Alafair Burke. It'll be nice to do that with her. It's 71 there right now. I am SO thrilled to be going and leaving this snow. I am just not cut out for this weather. We're going to stay at Dan's parents in Boca for a week after the festival and I plan to be outside with the boys the entire time. But anyway, the big question is: what shoes do I wear with that outfit???
xo

Living in Lingerie and other Southern Afflictions (i.e. a family of writers)

2009-01-09T11:36:00.000-08:00

An essay I wrote about my transition from LA to NY was published this month in Westchester Magazine. It follows my adjustment from living in slips to wearing winter-worthy clothes. If you'd like to check it out, click here.

I wish I could wear only a slip right now. We are supposed to get four to eight inches of snow tomorrow. I'm happy my sons love it because I am just not cut out for this cold. My Southern (CA and LA) roots are calling.
xo
PS While you are at the Westchester Magazine website (if you go), you can also check out an earlier piece I did for them about seeking my namesake in Paris. That one is here.

And, not to get tiresome, but Susan Larson of the New Orleans Times-Picayune gave my family a nice notice in her year end round-up. Six of us published novels in the span of four months in '08. She only knew of five (Andre Dubus III, James Lee Burke, Alafair Burke, Pamela Binnings Ewen, and myself) the sixth is my brother-in-law, John Lawson, who wrote a wonderful book, Hurricane Hotel and read from it at Spoken Interludes. Now, if I could only get us all in the same room for a show... You can read her piece here.

A New Pair of Glasses

2009-01-08T17:21:00.000-08:00

Well, it finally happened. My glasses broke. This was not a great surprise to me since I have two small sons who love pulling them off my face, but what with it coinciding with the new year, it is hard for me not to view this (pun intended, sorry!) as a metaphor. Off with the old and on with new sort of thing. Time, once again, for reckoning. Which, frankly, is all that I feel I've been doing since late December, and will continue to do for another week or so. My youngest son's birthday is late December, mine is very soon, and my older son's is mid/late January, so what with January 1 stuck in there, too, every year at this time, I have a nonstop month of "Look where you were before and where you are now." To be honest, it's exhausting. Not that it isn't joyful, too. It is nonstop cakes and parties, and I can't think of anything I'd rather do than celebrate my sons being here, but the four opportunities right in a row for me to reflect on time/life passages is a bit much. And I'm not even mentioning the other family and family-like members (okay, 5 of them) who celebrate at this time, too. I can only wonder if the Universe (yes, I did live in LA for years; I have anthropomorphized the Universe) thinks that I am particularly dense and need 4 tries to get this new year ritual right. Whatever it is. Because it changes every year. For the longest, and grimmest, time, I made lots of list. God save me. There were lists for everything, so certainly there were lists for the new year. What I would do, have, create (yes, this was in LA). Then sanity somehow descended, or would it ascend? And I stopped all of that. No more lists. And the amazing thing was that life got easier. More organized. I stopped feeling behind before I even got out of bed. But this year (please yell if you hear insanity approaching, I really won't mind), I am taking a tiny step back (or should that be forward?) to a list. But I am calling it the Non-list because it will never be written down where it can become its own terrible identity and taunt and tease me until I tear the goddamn thing up. In March. So there is no list, just the Non-list, a kind of internal what-I-feel-like-moving-towards thing. And so far, so good. But I'll let you know. It could fall apart tomorrow, though somehow, I think it won't. But either way, I'll still have a new pair of glasses. Until those break, too.
xo

Chris the Plumber

2008-11-24T18:46:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to write since I had a Spoken Interludes last Thursday night, but my two small sons woke up sick on Friday morning, so I have been on the front lines with that (not to mention my own flu-y symptoms) since then. But we seem to be starting to resemble normal people again. I think. My four year old was too sick to go to preschool today, but not too sick to run around the house, but then was fast asleep by 6:00, so maybe he is still sick. Mostly, I'm just tired. And speaking of, that is what I wanted to write about in the first place. Christopher Plummer was supposed to read at Spoken Interludes last week, but wasn't able to because of exhaustion (he recently finished a six month run of a play in Canada, and you know how tiring those damn Canadians are). So, after I got over my initial and vast disappointment, and girded myself for the audience canceling in droves, I emailed everyone to let them know he wasn't going to be doing the show.
To my immense and joyful surprise, only 6 people canceled their reservations. Though part of that probably had to do with the fact that I let them know that Arthur Phillips was coming up from Brooklyn to read instead. Arthur read at SI in LA with his first novel, and has been a regular ever since. I adore Captain Von Trapp as much as the next girl, but to be honest, I think Arthur is easily his equal in wit and charm.
Anyway, as I was going around the room, meeting people who hadn't been before, and saying hello to the regulars, I stopped at a table where a couple who attends every show was seated.
These people are darling, and so sweet. She could be Brooke Astor's younger twin, and in the years they have been attending (every show) I have never heard him speak. So I stopped to say hello, and she said to me, "You know, Saul reads our emails, so the other day, I was in the kitchen, and he yelled to me, 'Christopher Plummer isn't coming. He's exhausted.' Now, my plumber's name is Chris," she continued. "And I was expecting him that day, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Chris the Plummer would be so tired that he wouldn't come."
I told that story to Arthur and to Michael Gates Gil - who was also reading that night, what a treasure and force of nature he is - and they both said I had to tell it when I introduced the evening, which I did. We missed Mr. Plummer, but it was a wonderful night - very festive and warm.
I realize that at this point I am meant to think of some witty rejoinder linking Chris the Plummer to Joe the Plumber, but I am either too tired of hearing about him, or just too tired.

The Morning After

2008-11-05T12:16:00.000-08:00

A friend sent me an email with this:
There was a victory party in Teaneck, NJ.
A handwritten poster on the wall said the following:
"Rosa sat,
so Martin Luther King could walk,
so Barako Obama could run,
so our children can fly.
Yes, we can!"
I feel like I am flying today. I cried last night, no surprise, during Obama's acceptance speech. I was sitting in my living room - my husband was still at Richard Brodsky's house watching the returns there, Brodsky won again for State Assemblyman, hooray! - watching this historic event unfold, and I thought about my father. My father died over nine years ago, but during his life, was a staunch Republican, beginning when being a Republican in South Louisiana meant something different than it does today. When he and my mother first moved to Baton Rouge in the mid-50's, they helped start the Republican party there because the city was all Democrat. He always said he would have helped start it even if he wasn't a Republican because he believed in a bipartisan system. My father's family is from New Orleans, but he was raised in Jackson, Mississippi. I remember as a small child being very proud because I had never ever heard my father say a disparaging word about African-Americans. But he was still a product of his place and time, and my father could not have pulled that lever for Obama, no matter what party held his allegiance. I sat in my house last night, while my two sons were sleeping in their room, and I knew that they will never have any idea what a huge seismic shift had just occurred. To them, it will just be President Obama. To my father, it was an impossibility. I am so deeply happy that the link in that chain is broken forever.

11/04/08

2008-11-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. What an amazing and transforming night to live through. Especially as a Southerner, to watch this country put Obama into office, and leave behind so many years of strife. To finally let go of those differences and be united by beliefs. I have never been more proud to be an American. God bless Obama, and us all.

Albany, the Internet, and erstaz LA

2008-10-24T13:48:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all,
On Wednesday, I drove up to Albany to speak at a meeting of the superintendents of the special act schools in New York about Spoken Interludes Next, the outreach writing program for at-risk youth that I developed and run. The meeting was at The Century House Hotel in Latham, just outside of Albany. I got there right at lunch time, and had some yummy squash soup and pasta salad while I spoke to them about the program. They all want the program for their schools, which I am thrilled about, but now to find the funding! ;) Then I got back in my car and drove home. The whole drive was the 87 and I really enjoyed the 2 and a half hours there and back alone in the car. the leaves are just about to be at peak, and most of the drive is just stretches of landscape. it was very relaxing.

I also was able to speak to a woman - using my ear piece, not hand held! ;) - that I've been wanting to talk to for research for my new book, so it was heaven being able to be on the phone with her for a whole uninterrupted hour. She gave me some great stuff that will be very helpful. Then that night, I did a call-in show with Book Club Girl about The Safety of Secrets - check it out here. It was lots of fun. It was great to hear from so many readers, and people asked questions that I hadn't heard before, and that is always fun. I felt like I learned things about my book from the readers' feedback. Then last night, I was in Riverdale doing a benefit for the Riverdale Senior Services Center. It was at the home of Dr. Jonathan Zizmor and his wife, Alexandra. They couldn't have been more lovely and sweet. Alexandra made a gorgeous meal. Two kinds of salmon, fried chicken, amazing salads, rice, pasta. The only thing that kept me from eating tons was seeing the desserts that were waiting, and not wanting to be too full for when I had to read and speak about the book. I felt like I was back in LA in one of those fabulous Spanish style mansions that are all over the Hollywood hills. Their home was that style, and gorgeous, and it was a wonderful eclectic group of people. It was great fun.
But now it is all about Halloween costumes!!!
:)

Come Say Hey

2008-10-21T12:21:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to remind y'all that I'll be doing a live phone chat on Book Club Girl tomorrow night at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time. Here's the link if you want to call in, and say hey or ask a question about my book or about anything else, though I might not be able to expound much on other topics. Or I shouldn't expound much, but will anyway, as my husband might say! ;)
Anyway, it'd be fun to connect, so give a ring.
xo

Vogue

2008-10-10T12:04:00.001-07:00

I went to Vogue the other day. I had asked Abigail Walch, one of their feature editors with whom I am friendly, if I could come sit in the Condé Nast library to do research on my new novel, and she graciously said yes. So I put on my black high heeled boots, and a little black dress that I got at a little boutique in Silver Lake when I still lived in LA that I love because 1) the way it is cut, and 2) because its provenance is impossible to discern. And I he aded down to their great building on 42nd street. The library is on the 4th floor,
right by the cooking kitchen for Gourmet - yum! I got there about 11, and settled in at a table with books holding the archives of
Vogue from the '80's. If I ever doubted the power of advertising and/or the media, I don't any longer. I remembered every shot. Every one. I suddenly wondered if I had spent hours and days reading each issue when I was growing up. Not that it wasn't a happy pursuit, but still. Boy, did it bring lots back. And it opened up a whole aspect of the novel that I hadn't even thought about. I love when that happens, and have always believed that that is one of the most important parts of research is seeing a direction I need to go that I didn't realize I did. I even found a tiny little piece, literally 3 paragraphs about a law in Louisiana that completely pertains to my book. What are the odds of that?? It was a strange feeling to sit there perched above 42nd street in the city of my childhood dreams holding (albeit a different copy, but) an issue of Vogue that I had read as a teenager and to see the same images now that I saw then, and to have so many different reactions to them now. And friends from my life now that were in there back then when I had no idea who they were. Like an essay by Eve Babitz, a wonderful LA writer who I adore. It was an amazing meander down lots of different lanes.
Then, no surprise, I was famished. So I went to the famous and fabulous Condé Nast cafeteria. It reminded me a bit of the Warner Brothers' commissary, but East Coast style.
Here's my lunch:
I didn't get a picture of the two chocolate cookies I got, but they were really yummy, too. Then I went back to the library, and got on their computers for a bit to look at archives of the New Yorker from before Condé Nast bought it.
And I impressed myself that I was able to figure out the system, even though it was on a PC. - Elizabeth and Maggi and Dan, did you hear that??? ;) -
Then I had to run home as I was about to turn into a pumpkin - i.e. a mom. And to be honest, I was happy to get home, kick off my boots, and see my boys. We played tigers at the zoo. My bed was their cage, and I was the zoo keeper - I refuse to see this metaphorically! I fed them tasty treats, and kept the baby tiger from trying to get out of the cage. We all had great fun.
xo
And, no, Anna Wintour was never in sight.

Where I Was and Where I'll Be

2008-10-06T13:29:00.000-07:00

So, we went up to the Berkshires this past weekend to see my sister and her 6 year old son, and to go to the Berkshire Botanical Garden Harvest Festival, an event we haven't missed in three years. It was great fun. The weather was glorious, the leaves were turning, and I was able to pretend that winter isn't fast approaching. My 4 year old and his cousin went up in a cherry picker with my husband - here's the shot my husband took from the bucket. I get terrible vertigo which was explained to me once is the fear that one will jump if one gets close to the edge. Which I guess is how I feel. Or that the edge will somehow swoop up and engulf me, and sort of suck me off and take me down. Which I guess is another way of describing jumping. Anyway. I stayed on the ground. And was very happy when the three adventurers got down, too.

I'm thrilled to be doing a radio show with Book Club Girl on Wednesday, October 22nd at 7 pm EST. Here's the info and a link to the show. It's a call-in, so phone in. It'd be fun to say hey.
xo

What Was Lost

2008-09-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

I realize that I should acknowledge yesterday's huge drop in the stock market, but this morning, I was reminded of a loss of a different kind, one that hits me where I live each morning, one that can have me moaning any day, any time, and that is the loss of clothes. Particularly clothes that I have given away. When I was out this morning, I saw a woman wearing a great little black jacket. Kind of a boxy-cut, but still body conscious, small shirt collar, and great little pockets with dear grosgrain trim, but not precious. Very subtle, pseudo-Chanel. And I suddenly remembered (though how could I ever forget?) a very similar navy blue jacket from the 30's that I found in a thrift store in LA years and years ago. Where did it go? What impelled me to give that one away?? And it's not like it can be replaced. Living here in Westchester, I can't even go to a thrift store to nab some other great find to somehow salve this pain. Okay, yes, I can drive 20 minutes south and hit one in the City, but not really. Not an LA thrift store which really, to be honest, is the best kind of thrift store there is. Think about it. All the studios are there. All artifice is there. So the turn-over for wardrobe is insane, and where does the glut go?? To those stores. I miss them. And I miss a lot of clothes that I literally lie awake at night thinking about. Not a lot, usually only when my 21 month old wakes me up, and then he goes back down very quickly, but then I need to get back to sleep, and can't, so my mind wonders, and sometimes I think about lost clothes, which on one hand, in the realms of regret, is not so bad, considering what it could be, except when I'm getting dressed the next morning. So, I've decide to make a list of my most missed clothes. At least, if I can't wear them anymore, they can be immortalized.
1. aforementioned jacket. still in shock that I let that one go.
2. a Yohji Yamamoto black silk sweater. it was huge, and was like wearing water; it literally flowed all over me. it was heaven. I didn't buy it; a friend of mine in LA who was an oil heiress from New Orleans (her father used to go to Beirut when it was still the Paris of the Mid-East) gave it me. so wish I could wear that one now.
3. speaking of Paris, when I was there years ago, I found a wonderful little store in the Marais that had tons and tons of black leather coats. Not jackets, but coats. Those perfectly cut, very straight, very simple, and very fabulous black leather coats. I had one at home, so I bought ones for two friends (yes, the dollar was better then). I even had to buy a suitcase to get them home. both of my friends loved them - who wouldn't? - but then promptly, within a year, they both stopped being my friend. Okay, let's be honest, part of me did kind of feel like the guy who doesn't get the ring back after the engagement is cut off. These weren't candles or Splendid T-Shirts, for God sakes, they were black leather coats. Okay, whatever. I hope they are wearing them in good health, as my mother-in-law would say.
4. a great pair of tobacco colored khaki pants. Not that light sandy color everyone is making these day, this was that wonderful darker khaki color that I can't find anywhere anymore. What happened to that dye?? I just found a pair like them for my 4 year old son, and did have an insane moment of wondering how many I'd have to buy to cut up and take the pieces to my tailor to see if she could make a pair out of it for me. But I resisted. I love that color. nothing looks better with heathered gray.
5. here's a tough one: a beautiful gold pin that my mother gave me. this one was lost. I never would have parted with it. It was sort of a like a cross, but also with some fleur de lis thrown in, so it hit home for me on both counts. You could wear it tilted, so it was like some beautiful "X", very Paloma for Tiffany's kind of thing. Or it could be worn straight up, so it was like a cross, but since the sides were all even, not really. A private cross. I loved that pin. And I'm not a pin person. But this one was perfect. V bummed about that one.
If you see any of these anywhere, will you please let me know??
xo

Judging a Book By Its Cover

2008-09-18T12:59:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite experiences with my new novel, The Safety of Secrets, was the making of the cover. My editor, Carrie Feron, called me one afternoon and suggested that we use her daughter and HarperCollins colleague Debbie Stier's daughter for the photo. "Their ages are perfect for the girls during the flashbacks in the book," she said. "And I think it would be more interesting than having another book with grown women on the cover." I knew immediately that her idea was perfect. It was made even more so by the fact that my husband, Dan Fried, owns H & H Photographers, so I knew where we could get a great photographer!

The girls did an incredible job. Check out the photo album from the shoot, and the video that we shot during it. Aren't they amazing? They added such a beautiful layer to the novel, first as cover girls, but also in the connection that they have. Just looking at the picture brings back exactly what it felt like to be able to tell my best friend anything. And at every one of my signings, women always ask me about the picture because they are so drawn in by it. Shooting this cover was like doing a wonderful little silent play about the book - it captures the book's essence so completely.

And then last week, we got the fun news that the cover won a Silver Create Award. I'm honored and thrilled that these girls added such beauty and truth to the book. Here's to them!
xo

My Inner Hermit Crab

2008-09-09T18:19:00.000-07:00

Okay, be forewarned, this is about the hermit crab again. But I promise this will be the last posting about it for a long while. I hope. Are you relieved that our new pet is as sans personality as this one?? I am terrified to think how much I'd be writing about a cat. It's not like the crab does anything interesting. But I did promise a photo and I found that cord I needed to get the pics from my camera, so there they are. Okay, its cage is not as sad looking as it seems. I think it is happy, in a crabby sort of way. He's eating in these pictures; you just can't tell. I figured I could have taken him out of the cage, and gotten a good action shot, but I was afraid - okay, knew - that I would drop him, and then his shell might crack, and he would die of exposure. Or he would crawl on me, and I wasn't sure which would be worse, so those are the best I could get. Anyway. He really is a hermit. Then he'll have these periods of being out of his shell and seemingly never wanting to go back in. But then he does. I am finding him to be (I keep defaulting into the male pronoun for him. I could get all Freudian about that, but I won't) very helpful around nap and bed-time for my 20 month old. I am pretty much always able to tell my son that "woman man whatever it is momma daddy crab" is asleep and my son has to believe me because who can tell?? Though I keep waiting for the day when the damn thing pops its head out of its shell and yells, "No, I'm not!!" But it probably knows its future would be at stake if it did. So, that remains a ridiculous fantasy. I did take a page from its book, so to speak, today by not answering my phone. Mostly. Not that I always answer my phone. Frankly, I very rarely want to answer my phone. And a lot of the time, when the phone rings, I can't help but think of that old Dorothy Parker line, "What fresh hell is this?" Not that it ever really is. Usually, mostly, pretty much always, it is someone I am happy to talk to, so why I continue to have that reaction, I will never know. My sister-in-law, who is a urologist (and a great one if you are ever in need and in the NY area), has on her cell phone what I consider to be the best outgoing message. She gives the usual info, then concludes with, "If this is a true emergency, dial 911." I so want to say that on my cell phone. Doesn't that just take care of so much?? Talk about boundaries. Before I was married and had children and I was still living in LA, I used to give myself my own little hermit crab time and turn off my cell phone, leave my apartment, and drive up the PCH to Ventura, a good 45 minutes to an hour north. I loved being completely out of reach. Not that the hordes were trying to find me, but still. It was like I was in another state. The best times doing that were going home, and not even listening to the answering machine. Or really, not even checking to see if or how many messages there were, just going to sleep, and maybe not even checking them for awhile after I woke up. One night when I did that, I drove up to Ventura, then was back in LA, but still didn't want to go home, so I went to a movie theater in Westwood and got there just in time to see The Big Lebowski. I love that movie.
Maude Lebowski: What do you do for recreation? The Dude: Oh, the usual. I bowl. Drive around. The occasional acid flashback.
And
Blond Treehorn Thug: [holding up a bowling ball] What the fuck is this?
The Dude: Obviously you're not a golfer.
My husband and I watched it again a few weeks ago with some friends when we were at the beach. Seeing The Dude constantly holding a White Russian in his hand reminded me a bit of the iced decafs I've been living on all summer. Not that there's vodka in them. Or that I'm bowling. Or having any hermit crab time of my own. But I'm not really wanting it anymore.
Except when the phone rings.

By Any Other Name...

2008-08-29T08:55:00.000-07:00

We couldn't find Momma Daddy Crab's food - a small white bottle labeled Hermit the Crab food - so my four year old and I ran out the other day to get some. The nice man at the pet supply store helped me find another bottle, and seeing as how he was already helpful, I told him that I was a bit worried about the crab as all it does it stay in its shell. He looked at me for a beat, and then said, "It's a hermit crab. They stay in their shells. It's a hermit." Okay, how the literalness of their name escaped me, I have no idea. Especially considering that there is a long line of recluses in my family, like any good Southern clan. My son and I got in the car, and the issue of pronoun/gender came up about Momma Daddy Crab. I asked my son what he thought it was. He said, "I don't know. It's a crab." Clearly, I am the least clued in on this er, animal. Okay, it's not an animal, sea creature?? That night, as I was putting my son to bed, he said, "I've decided to rename Momma Daddy Crab since we don't know if it's a boy or girl." I said, "Great, what have you picked?" He said, "Woman Man Whatever It Is Momma Daddy Crab." So there it is. Perhaps this is an indication that the next pet should be gender identifiable.
xo
PS I will post a picture of said hermit crab - or a picture of his shell - when I can find the cord that makes the pictures go from my camera to the computer. Or however you describe that.

Hermit Crabs, Outer Space, and Peedles

2008-08-20T08:39:00.000-07:00

We just got back from Long Beach Island (aka the Jersey shore) and it was heaven. I have decided that it is my substitute for not being able to get to Navarre beach (on the Florida panhandle, literally favorite place on earth)now that I live up in Yankee country. It is so easy to get to and look at the beach:
We had such a great time. We went with another family - they also have a four year old son (same as my oldest) and a 14 month son (6 months younger than my youngest) and the kids had a grand time. One day, the older boys went out with their Daddies and came home with hermit crabs! First, my son named his Dan DeLauné Crab, then quickly changed it to Momma Daddy Crab. I would like to meet another hermit crab that has three names. The other little boy named his Ouchie Crab which I thought was very smart, albeit a bit pre-destiny of him. The next day, we went to visit the shop that the crabs came from. The guy who ran it was the embodiment of every Grateful Dead song ever sung, in the best possible way. Startling eyes, once you could see them, and rather shy - like a hermit crab, actually. But very sweet. My husband told me that when they were driving home with the crabs, our son was holding the little home (okay, yes, cage) in his lap, and said, "Momma is never gonna believe this!" and then he said very seriously, "This is a really special day." Okay, I would have let him have ten hermit crabs to hear him say that. And Momma Daddy Crab has proved to be a good pet. I know, it's only a hermit crab, they don't do much. But still. It's a good toe in the water for us in the realm of pets. When our youngest first saw the crab, he looked at Dan and me, pointed to the crab, then pointed to his opened mouth, and said, "Um, um um!" And we said, a bit horrified, "No, we don't eat the crab!" For the rest of the week, he would walk up to the crab's house (which was up on the mantel so he couldn't get to it), point to the crab, then point to his open mouth, and say, "Nooooooo." We were happy he understood, but the frequency with which he did this was a bit disconcerting. One could only think of Shakespeare- "Me thinks thou doth protest too much." So if the crab goes missing, I'm afraid we might know where to find him - or his remains.
That night in the bath, the two oldest boys were bathing together, and my son got brave and ducked his head under water with his eyes closed. The other little boy asked him, "What can't you see?" to which my son replied, "Outer space."

There was a wonderful pine tree in the back of the house, right near the deck where we had lunch every day. Our friends taught my youngest how to say pine needle, but in his haste of speaking - or just realizing that an improvement could be made - he rechristened them, "peedles." Then spent the rest of the lunches picking up peedles.
The older boys discovered a cache of sewing thread in a cabinet, unused for God knows how many years. (I grew up trying, and failing, to sew. I made a horrendous bright green - what was I thinking - wrap skirt, God save me, a pattern I picked because I wouldn't have to deal with a zipper, though I forgot about button holes, but even Momma wouldn't do button holes, and paid a woman to do hers, so I knew I could get off easy with those, but anyway. Momma kept asking me for months why I wouldn't wear that pretty skirt I made, and, of course, in the South it is hot all year long, so I didn't even have cold weather to blame for not being able to wear it, but anyway.) The boys proceeded to basically thread the house. The threads, it was explained to us, were electrical lines, and their work was quite intricate, not to mention extensive, and we started to feel that we were living with a couple of arachnids. Each boy also brought his own roll of bright blue painters' tape - yes, they get along like a house afire - so what with the thread and the tape, things were pretty battened down. We tried to get it all up before we left, but we could only imagine what the next renters thought when they found remnants of tape on the four poster bed, and thread from the banisters. But as long as there weren't peedles in the beds, I'm sure they were fine.
xo

All I Wanna Do

2008-08-06T18:13:00.000-07:00

Is organize my house. My husband has been waiting for this. For the past few months ever since I started my third novel, he has kept saying, "Feeling like nesting??" whenever he would see me moving something or refolding dish towels. "No," I would say, and a bit defensively if I'm going to be honest, and I may as well be since I'm the one who choose to bring this up. Then he would give me a "You will" kind of look. But not in a mean way. Not in an "I told you so" kind of way. Just in a "I've been through two novels with you, not to mention two babies, and I know what you do." Which is true, and which(ugh! I can't use that word anymore without thinking of my editor at HarperCollins who can't stand it, which is (or "and that is" - now come on, don't you prefer "which is"???) a drag as it is so one of my favorite words, Strunk and White be damned. But this is my blog, and not a MSS I have to turn in, so I will just "which" away to my hearts content. If this annoys you to no end, consider yourself forewarned) reminds me of a weird thing about all this: with a baby, I don't need to nest until just before he (I only have sons) arrives, yet with my novels, I have to nest somewhere in the early stages, but only when the novel suddenly decides that I must.
And it has. Really really has.
But I can't, pretty much. With my first novel, no one had been born yet, so organizational orgies could occur whenever I would block out a full day and night, and possibly even the next day, too. Okay, I have to confess, few things make me happier in life - family excluded - then an entire block of time, with no phone calls, no obligations, no getting acceptably dressed, and a wonderfully full closet or room that I can go through each and every inch and object and put all of them to the test of "go (a good percentage goes to charity), stay, and if so, put where?" This is heaven. And feels just as unobtainable to me right now because of my sons. Not that I am blaming them; I am just being realistic about what can be done. So I have started scheming. I will find a night when they go to bed early - it was 8 tonight, so maybe I can get a 7:30 soon - and my husband is out, and I will pick a room. Or a closet. And just do one at a time. Like I did with the last book. And that will work fine.
Herewith is my list of attack:
1) The playroom - so want/will get a more functional bookcase for all the stuff. Then I cannot wait to organize said piece with bins for every tool (toy and real) ever made, firetrucks, those small pieces that cannot be thrown away, markers and crayons, cd's - you know the stuff. Oh, and finally put all the pieces of things with their rightful sets. It will last for 15 minutes, but it will be glorious. Like Camelot.
2) The closet in the playroom - a catchall if there ever was one. It always looks much Yikes!-ier than it is, so the attendant wave of satisfaction upon completion is quite high without sheer exhaustion.
3) The kitchen. I have some empty drawers in here - another item at the top of my list of things that delight. It is the spacial equivalent of tithing. I must live in a large house (have lots of money), if I don't even use up all the space (have enough to give away). My kitchen, like the whole house, is pretty much all windows. Love the views; really miss a floor-to-ceiling pantry, so regular sorting out of the food items that have willfully congregated towards the dark recesses of the lower cabinet is a must. Not to mention that my sons usually find the cake mix, so we can celebrate moved around dry goods with cupcakes.
4) The hall closets. Okay, if you haven't stopped reading by now, please don't feel any obligation to continue. This is so vicarious for me, it is insane. I have no doubt that there is little to no interest in this for anyone else, but I am so feeling so much better by doing this, however please don't stay on here just for me! Okay, one closet is where all the coats and winter stuff collect, and the other is for vases, serving pieces (yes, I'm Southern; I actually use all that stuff I got for our wedding) and linens. Or most of them. I have others hidden around the house in various trunks that are pretending to be coffee tables and side tables. Love going through linens. They feel so good to fold and hold - except bottom sheets. I don't think I will ever know how to fold those goddamn things.
5) The boy's room. Not as scary as it sounds. Mostly it will be going through books, and giving away ones they have moved on from, and pulling down ones they are ready for. Will give away a sorting toy that my youngest has been ignoring for months.
6) The bathrooms. Another easy one. Throw out expired medicines. Throw out cosmetics that I pretended to be happy when I got samples of, yet know I will never use. For that matter, throw out the last lipsticks that I have not worn in four and a half years since my oldest was born and I found the absolute best lip gloss in the entire world, and I know that it is because a woman asks me where I got it literally three times a week and they always tell me later how much they love it, too. Trucco - sugar, sugar, if you are interested.
7) My closet. Though I'll probably wait until the cold weather comes so I can put away my summer clothes. No, my closet isn't big enough to have everything hanging at once. But since I grew up doing this bi-annually with my mother and all four older sisters in the big living room that had become a sea of huge boxes with tons of clothes climbing out of them that we would go through and try on and decide what we liked or fit that season, this is as much part of my year as the budding trees.
8) My husband's closet. Doesn't take terribly long, and always makes him very happy when I reorganize his shirts so they are hanging according to the color wheel.
9) My office/desk. The file cabinet is never fun. Ugh. But it is also never as horrible as I imagine it will be.
10) I can also do the attic and basement and outside shed, but these are pretty back-burner, and although the attic has a ticking clock with the cold weather coming, these aren't such a big deal. Mostly because they still look pretty okay from the last time I did them.
11) There isn't another item for this list, except for me to say that yes, I realize that I am insane. But it is an orderly kind of insane, and that must count for something.
I hope.
I'll let you know how it goes.
xo
And no, I don't make house calls.

And They're Off

2008-08-04T19:03:00.000-07:00

It's Monday night, a bit after 10 and I have only just now gotten both boys asleep. It stays light so much later here in the summer - which I love - much later than it does in LA or Louisiana, being that much farther north. So the long days don't help my boys get to bed, and my husband's family came over for sushi that we ate outside since there was no food in the house (and my husband is literally the most wonderful man in the world because he just left a few minutes ago to go to the grocery store, and I so thought I'd have to do that tomorrow. I am beside myself with joy that I don't have to.) We were in Saratoga this past weekend, and it was heaven! I adore it up there. All these beautiful farms and old barns, and then these darling little towns and villages filled with Victorian houses, and fabulous brick factories near railroad tracks that are now being used for artist collectives or office space, and great little shops, and streets that you just want to ride a bike down, and stop somewhere and climb a tree. We left Friday morning, but the night before, my husband and I went into the city to see Charles Bock and Richard Price reading at SummerStage in Central park. Here is a picture of the stage before they came on, and a picture of them, but blurred, so neither helpful to you at all, but they are all that I have. I am not a photographer!!
Yet insist on putting photos on here!!
Charles read from his new novel at Spoken Interludes this past May, and he was such a showman, so when I got an email from him that he was doing this, it sounded like the perfect summer date, which it was. We had dinner on Columbus, which was fine, but walked through the park, and that was wonderful. Charles was great - read the section he read at SI, a total heartbreak about the mother after the boy leaves, and then one about Cherry and Ponyboy, then Richard Price came on and was the elder statesman of night - kind of cranky, but sweet. Then we walked back through the park, and went for ice cream, and it was one of those perfect summer nights where there was no place more wonderful to be, except possibly walking along the Seine, but even then we'd be dealing with humiliation at the exchange rate, so this was better. All that is to say, that we played hooky from packing when we got home, then of course had to take both boys to the doctor in the morning - colds, nothing bad - so didn't get on the road until noon, but both boys slept and then were fine the rest of the way. it is only a 3 hour drive which they can do pretty well. Naps, snacks, and identifying every truck on the road, plus a couple of books, and we are there.
We stayed with good friends in Ballston Spa who live in the kind of house I have in my dreams - our is mid-century which I love now, but I will always feel more at home with bead board, and medallions, and deep porches. Isn't it heaven?? And my friend's taste is exquisite.
They have a darling 3 year old girl and she and my older son were
thick as thieves in two seconds. The game of the weekend was doctor. The bones in my husband's stomach were broken. My blood plessure (that isn't a typo) was bad, and had to be monitored constantly, and many shots were administered by all three children, yes, even my 18 month old got some in. I left right after we got there to do an event at The Round Lake library,
there it is. How darling is that?? I was checking my myspace page one day, and saw a friend request from this library, so I googled it, and it turned out to be literally 10 minutes from my friend's house, so I emailed them, and told them I was going to be there for an event at Borders that weekend, and would they like me to come by, and they kindly said yes, and there I was. It was so sweet. A lovely Victorian converted to a library. They had set out cookies and lemonade and watermelon. That kills me when people do that. Maybe it is a lifetime of being in a family that throws parties at the drop of a hat, but when someone puts out food, it really goes straight to my heart. It was a small group of us, but so fun. We talked like old friends, then I read for a bit. I read a section from the South Louisiana flashback part because there was a teenager there, and her 12 year old sister, and they had been telling me about being home schooled which I found fascinating - one reason I love doing these things, how else could I have met these people to hear about this?? - and their mother, who was like a more open and warm Kathy Bates, was with them and the LA section that I normally read has a couple of lines that are at a bit blue, but anyway. It was great fun, and they all bought both of my books, and I promised I'd come back. wonderful husband just returned with groceries. this entry is too long!! anyway. that was great fun, then I went back to our friends, and they'd made yummy dinner, and the next day we stayed around there, and it felt like early fall, there was a nice light breeze, and more friends came over with more yummy food, and the kids played. The Ballston Spa Film Festival was that weekend, and my husband was judging in it, so he went off for that stuff, then Sunday, while my husband took the kids to the races with our friends, I did a signing at Borders in Saratoga, and had a great time. Met lots of fun women, and sold all but a few of the books. My husband has pulled out the Sunday crossword puzzle and watermelon, so I think I'm off to do that. more soon.
xo

Home Team

2008-07-28T12:07:00.001-07:00

So, I had a bunch of fun events last week. I was at the Hudson Valley Writers' Center with
Jamie Malanowski who read from his new novel, The Coup - a biting satire about the political scene. And I was happily surprised to find my friend, Chris Raymond, editor for ESPN books, doing the introductions. A terrible thunder storm threatened the whole evening, but held out until the end - even nature was supporting the written word.
Then I drove up to the Boston area with my family on Friday. We stopped in the Berkshires for lunch with my sister and her husband and son, then all of us caravaned up to Newburyport where I read with my cousin Andre Dubus at Sue Little's Jabberwocky Book Store, a haven for lovers of literature if there ever was one. Sue has a wonderful area behind the store for events, and all the balconies and chairs and halls were packed with people to see Andre. It is, as a reporter for the local paper said in an article he wrote about my book, Dubus country.
I went first, and after thanking Sue for having me back - I was there for Aftermath of Dreaming - I told the crowd that Andre's daddy and my momma (brother and sister) grew up in South Louisiana, and I grew up in Baton Rouge, otherwise known as Death Valley because of the LSU Tigers' stadium. So being there at Jabberwocky to read with Andre felt a bit like playing with the LSU Tigers for their homecoming game. I was honored as hell, but just relieved I wasn't the quarterback. But it was an amazing night, it almost reminded me of my acting days. They were one of the best audiences ever. And Andre was the generous and funny and brilliant man that he is. We sat at the signing table for over 2 hours and I think I met everyone in Newburyport. This is us after it is over (Sue is in between us) and the only sustenance Andre and I had had since lunch were the grapes on the table. (And yes, I'm wearing the same damn skirt!) But it was an amazing evening, and I feel so blessed to have such a great cousin whom I adore as a writer and as a family member, and was so sweet to invite me to read with him like that. I did Borders in Braintree - south of Boston - the next day - and wore different clothes, but of course don't have pictures!! The manager there, Stacy, was wonderful and so sweet. I met lots of fun people who bought my book, and just loved chatting with them. My husband brought my sons in when I was finished and Stacy gave them a stuffed animal of Pigeon from the Mo Willems series - how lovely was that?? She was a dear. Then we went to Jeb's house where all the Dubus' gathered and we stayed up too late, but then slept late (7:30!!! I realize to most of the world, that is early, but it is noon as far as my 18 month old is concerned), Sunday morning, and we convened again at Aunt Pat's for all-morning breakfast. Thanks to my home and family here in New York, and Dubus cousins in Massachusetts, I think I might actually belong up here in the North. Maybe.
xo

2008-07-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

I went into the city today for an afternoon and evening of appointments. This morning before I left, I suddenly realized I was experiencing free-floating anxiety, which, while unpleasant, did remind me of an old Roz Chast cartoon in the New Yorker from forever ago, entitled: "Little Beverly Playing Cards - Play 'Em! Collect 'Em! Trade 'Em!" The cartoon showed Little Beverly - yet another of Chast's odd little girls - in a series of prosaic tasks, until the last card showed Little Beverly standing still in the middle of nowhere with the caption, "Little Beverly experiences free-floating anxiety." Clearly, this cartoon struck a chord. So while I am never unhappy to be reminded of a Roz Chast cartoon, I wasn't thrilled about this anxiety especially since I don't have it very much, or if I do, I at least know what it is about. I ran through the list in my mind of possible options, but all is fine, until I was on the train going in, and realized that it was because I was leaving my children. Now, mind you, my children are fine. They love and adore my sister (who was babysitting) to the point where when I leave, it is not an issue at all. I know they are in great and capable hands. And for my end, I spend lots of time with them, happily so. But frankly, sometimes it just doesn't feel like enough. Especially in the summer. To be honest, the only thing I feel like doing lately is being in the park with them, playing in the sand, and caring about whose turn it is on the slide. I took the subway from Grand Central to the upper west side, and was walking up Columbus when I passed a woman pushing a double stroller - not a difficult sighting in that neighborhood. In the stroller were two little girls who looked about my sons' ages - 18 months and 4 and a half. Our eyes met, and I told her that my two were at home. We exchanged their ages, bonded on similar spacing, and then I said, "I wish I were with them now. I had a really hard time leaving them today." And we talked about just wanting to play with them as much as we can in this tiny, finite, little patch of a moment that we get with them at this age. Playing with them at home in our yard, or at the park, or on the couch which is suddenly a plane is such an amazing escape for me from all the other stuff that my mind is sure - and will tell me - is important and necessary. And on one hand, it is. But not more them. I have really just been wanting to play with them this summer, and am as much as I can. My youngest is 18 months and I adore that age. He thinks he is four, and keeps up with his older brother quite grandly, but his little body betray himself in very dear ways. His days are an opera of "no's." But they are sung so sweetly, they invoke laughter in me rather than upset. My oldest is all about going to the doctor now. He is constantly bandaging everyone in the house, and having his leg wrapped with this green safety tape that another one of my sisters gave him for his work sites. He always reminds me of a painting I used to look at when I was five in this book my momma had called, "Great Paintings of the World" of three Civil War soldiers hobbling home with their legs, arms, and heads wrapped with bandages. He is constantly coming up to me and say, "I need to tell you something by whispering." then he leans into my ear for the secret, which usually starts with him saying, "Are I....?" I will be heartbroken when that stops. Sorry for the smushiness about my children. I meant to write about other stuff, but ended up not.
xo

The Birds & the Bees and Cookies

2008-07-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

So, a friend of mine just got home last night from a long vacation only to discover two new kittens. This in itself is shocking enough, seeing as how she didn't even know that the mother was pregnant, but it was made even more so by the fact that said cat had just had a litter in April. I think my sons' reactions summed it all up: my 18 month old grinned madly while waving his arms ecstatically in the air, and my 4 year old said one word,
"Why?"
And come to think of it, that is exactly what he said when we told him that I was pregnant (and no, it wasn't a "we", there is nothing "we" about pregnancy), and he was going to have a little brother.
"Why?"
I thought it was a reasonable response. Why exactly? But thanks to reading my Penelope Leach, we didn't try to pass off some, "Because we love you so much, we wanted more" answer, which really if you think about it makes no sense. Or is only setting him up for a lifetime of excessive longing and/or addiction - there's a fate. So we just said, "Because we are, and he's going to be part of our family." Then he cuddled in my lap for awhile and seemed more interested in my protruding belly than he had been before, but then he got on the floor and we played airplane. And had a cookie.
And speaking of, I was in my favorite place in this area to get a cookie and coffee, Coffee Labs in Tarrytown, NY. I wrote most of my blog essays in there, and got to listen to music I'd never find or turn on myself and was well supplied caffeine-and-sugar-wise. And ending up going every week.
Why?
Because I love them so much, I wanted more.Post Options

Hawks & Love

2008-06-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all,
So, my sweet cousin, Michel Allen (who grew up in Memphis), had a book party for me last night at her art gallery, The Allen Gallery - Southern hospitality lives in Chelsea. It was great fun, like all of her art openings - definitely check them out on Thursday nights. Liz French and Faygie Levy from Romantic Times came by. Liz was wearing a fabulous dress, and yes, that is the same outfit I wore in Natchez, and I have little excuse since I dressed at home with my whole closet at my disposal, but with little time since I was with my small sons, but anyway.
Patrick Knisley from 192 Books (don't miss their writers' series at the store and at the NY Public Library - Salman Rushdie & Jeffrey Eugenides is tonight. Oh, to have a sitter again and be at that one!) had one of his fabulous employees there, then he joined a bunch of us afterward at my second most favorite NY bistro
La Luncheonette, but soon to be my most since Florent is closing in a few days thanks to horrendous rent increases in the meat packing district. Major dismal news. NYC is supposed to have terrible neighbors with little finds nestled in them like jewels. But no longer. God save me from more gentrification. I used to live around the corner from La Luncheonette on 20th between 9th & 10th before I moved to LA supposedly only for a month, but then stayed for way longer than 10 years. Back when I lived in Chelsea, I used to see Debbie Harry prowling the aisles of the awful Safeway (remember that one?) that is long since gone. She was a much better site than the ridiculous crowds that were on 10th avenue last night when we walked to our car at midnight. Not a decent transvestite in the mix which used to be all my ex-boyfriend and I saw when we ambled over to the Empire Diner for a late night sup of my favorite meal: ice coffee and french fries, the best in NY.
Okay, that is my love letter to my old stomping grounds.

This morning, my husband and sons and I woke up to the baby red-tail hawk that has taken up residence here. He was sitting on a large rock in our backyard,
screeching like a madman. He looks small and unprepossessing in this picture, but don't be fooled. He is quite large, and not shy. He loves chipmunk - guess how we know that? - and our sons' slide. Our 18 month old was very unhappy the first time young hawk landed on the slide, and stayed there as if it were his own. My son looked at me with as much distaste as I had for last night's crowds, and tried to shoo him away. Needless to say, the hawk didn't budge. I guess both are here to stay. Somehow, I think the hawk sticking around is a better sign.
xo

Home Again, Home Again - For Now

2008-06-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all,
So I'm back from my tour, for now. As y'all know, my two young sons (four years old, and 17 months old) came with me, and they were the best traveling companions ever. Seriously. And they are generally pretty easy kids—considering the fact that they never stop moving and there is a constant rotation of fire truck/work site/ball games in our house—but still, they are under five, for God's sake. But they were such pros that I felt like I was with the editors of Condé Nast Traveler, and maybe I was—future ones. And the best part was that we all had fun. Always important! So we're home, but I still have a bunch of dates left. So check them out, and if you are near one, come by—it'd be great to see you.

Here's a bunch o' photos. And my little travel editors say hey.
xo

Okay, this was in Monroe, La. I drove over there from Jackson, MS to tape a radio interview at 8:30 AM for Lagniappe on KEDM with Sunny Meriwether, and yes, she is as much a bright light as her name implies. Then I had a reading that night at Windows, bookstore of the much fun Elisabeth and Pat who do The Book Report that I taped the week prior, but I had the day to myself - hence the blog posting before this one, if any of this is making sense! Help! Anyway. I forgot to get photos with Sunny or at Windows. Major :( BUT I did take pictures of where I ate lunch, infer from that what you will. This is my table at The Pickle Barrel. Do not miss this place next time you are in Monroe. It is where all the locals go. I felt like I lived there. I was waiting for my next door neighbor to walk in and sit down. It was heaven. And, yes, the pickles were homemade and great. Then I got true Southern Hospitality when Monroe resident and angle incarnate Mary Brinson met me for dinner at Genusa's before my event. Okay, if I'm not going to eat a lot down South, where will I??

The next day, my cousin Henry and I drove to Natchez, a gorgeous little town on the Mississippi which is famous for having the pilgrimage tours every spring where 25 antebellum mansions are open to the public. Girls dress up in period dress and give tours. Two of my sisters did it one year, and I was so jealous of their hoop skirts (hello, Crimes of the Heart). Maybe I wore my most colorful skirt to Natchez in some subconscious honor of that. Anyway. I had a great time at Turning Pages book store. Mary and Pat had made pimento cheese sandwiches cut into diamonds with the crust off, and sweet tea. Major yum.

Then on Sunday, we drove to Memphis, and the next morning (6/16), I did an interview on Live at 9 on WREG. Okay, I am still trying to figure out how to get to the video of my interview to play on their website, and have no idea. Can I just not be a Luddite for once?!! If anyone figures it out, please yell.

After that, we went to CMOM, (Childrens Museum of Memphis - hugely great fun. FedEX donated a cockpit to them, and my 4 year old was out of his mind with joy) then to my favorite eatery, the Piccadilly! I know, I already ate there on this trip (2x before!), but how ca I resist? My kids had the best time picking their dishes of food. And where else can you get okra as a matter of course? I miss the food I grew up on!!

Then I taped a radio interview with Stephen Usery for WYPL's Book Talk. We just sat and visited about Stuttgart, and the Heat Wave of 1980, and other obscure, but important parts of my life that I rarely, if ever, get to talk to one person about who also happened to experience them. Finally, we taped a show.

That night, I did an event at Davis-Kidd; I so love that store. It's huge, but feels like it could be your library in some crazy perfect bibliophile kind of house. Anyway, one of the people who came was this amazingly sweet new friend of mine, Lindy, who I met on Gather.com, this new (at least to me) site where you can connect with other reading/writing lovers. They become a kind of wonderful internet family for me.

The next day, we flew home. I so had to pay the extra baggage fee :( But it was the first time on the entire trip, so I can't really complain. But I will.

One night later, I had a Spoken Interludes here in NY with David Rabe, Mark Doty, and Kathryn Harrison. They were amazing - all such different, but powerful voices.

And it's nice to be home again. Jiggity Jig.

A Day of One's Own - Sorta

2008-06-09T13:47:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all
Apologies for another gigantic posting - it's been hard having time to get on here with tour stuff and spending time with my sons, but I am in Monroe, La for the day having a day of one's own, to paraphrase dear Eudora which is apropos since I drove here from Jackson, Miss for an 8 am live radio interview with Sunny Meriweather - how much do we love her name? and she totally lives up to it in the best possible way, this woman is pure light - for her show, Lagniappe, on KEDM. For y'all non-Louisianians, lagniappe means something extra. Sorta like a baker's dozen, but with extra hospitality thrown in. At 5, I'll have diner with a new friend, the force of nature Mary Brinson who made this day the wonderful thing that it is, and then a reading at Windows at 7, then back to Welty country.
But to pick up where I left off on my last posting:
This past Monday, I went to Lake Charles, where Fiona and Patricia - the main characters of my new novel - are from. I spent summers there as a girl visiting my grandmother, and I specifically set the novel there so I could go back and visit. It was heaven. Right when I got there, I drove straight to my grandmother's old house- she has been deceased since the '80's. I saw a woman watering the grass next door and introduced myself and she told me that the house is going to be torn down because of the damage it sustained in Hurricane Rita. I am beyond heartbroken, but so relieved that I was able to get there and see it one last time. isn't it wonderful? There is an amazing attic up there that was made into a playroom that was wallpapered with New Yorker covers from the 1920's up to the '50's. I put that room in my first novel. and I made this Fiona's house in my new novel. I so loved it.
And this is the pavilion that Fiona and Patricia play in as children in the novel, and where my sisters and cousins and I all played as kids, acting out all sorts of dramas and romances.
The house behind it is antebellum.
We never saw anyone in it, but
always imagined it was a very
benevolent elderly woman who
didn't mind us trampling her yard and jumping around her statue. And this is Lake Charles, as seen from my grandmother (and Fiona's virtual!) house. That's a beautiful bridge all the way across. It was a beautiful white-gold low rainbow at night.
And this is the entrance to Drew Park - another locale in the novel. The wrought iron arch above the pillars says Drew Park. My husband or four year old would have been able to make that visible, but I was lucky to get the framing straight - kinda. But that led to the bike path we took there to play on the jungle gym and clubhouse for ping pong games - both make appearances in the book. I could feel the shorts high on my legs, and imagine the restful, cold quiet of my grandmother's home when we'd come in after playing. She always had an old fashion at 5, and we'd have shirley temples and peanut butter on saltine crackers before a cold supper at 6. Dinner was at noon. This was the South! I would always make her drinks because I put in 2 jiggers of bourbon instead of one, and she'd always say, "DeLauné, you make the best old fashions." As if she had no idea that they were stronger than hers, though maybe she didn't. This was when I was 8 or so. She was a grand woman. Very elegant, but with a great sense of humor. She is much missed.
Then I went to Books-a-Million for a signing, where I felt like I was returning to the hometown of my dreams. We sold out of books after an hour and a half, and I met such wonderful women. Everyone was so happy to connect, an amazing bookclub came, The Pulpwood Queens. I love these women. They have pink t-shirts and tiaras, and so get the lifelong sister/friend female thing. I met a cousin, Traci Dubus, and her darling daughter Molli. Traci had grown up hearing about our ancestor in Marie Antionette's court, but didn't know the full story, so I filled her in.(the woman I was named for Helene Delaune was going to go to guillotine, but Marie Antionette gave her jewels for her and her husband to escape. I think that is a future book.) Then I did an event at the central library, and they had someone from the Junior League make appetizers and they gave me the Junior League cookbook - my husband is thrilled!! We can just close our eyes, open to a page, and find a great new dish for dinner. And, it's food from home! They both want me to come back in the fall, which I will in a heartbeat. They were so wonderful and welcoming.
Tuesday was New Orleans. It started with an interview with Susan Larson of the New Orleans Times-Picayune at CC's, Community Coffee's local cafe. If you think you are happy with Starbucks, order Community Coffee and find nirvana. And it's from New Orleans! She was so fun to visit with. She knows my whole family and had great stories to tell me about them, I mostly wanted her to talk more than me. Then I did a half hour taped radio interview for WRBH with Deb McDonald - she was great fun. Then I went to my dear dear friend, Sid Montz' stunningly gorgeously restored 1880's home off of Prytania street,and called in to do a taped radio interview for the Book Report - here's the MP3. I love Elisabeth and Pat -their voices combined are like a great old fashion (there's that drink again, I really am home!) - one's bourbon and the other is sugar.
After that, Sid and I went by Octavia Books (pic on left)to sign stock and see Tom and Judith and their darling puppy - my youngest son would have loved him!
Then I went to Garden District Book Store
for a reading and signing - that's me with my cousin René Thionville, and you can tell his accent by his name. I could listen to him all day. The voices down here are just heaven. My husband keeps telling me that every time we talk, mine is thicker and thicker - thank God!! After that, Sid and I had dinner at a great Uptown restaurant, then I drove back to big BR (Baton Rouge, or le rouge, as a friend used to call it.)
Wednesday in BR started with a live radio interview on the Jim Engster show, then I picked up my sons, and we went to see the school I went to, St Joseph's Academy, where the kind and delightful and regal Sr. Joan took us around for a tour and let my older son pick out two old school desks for us to get up to NY somehow for him and his brother to use - wasn't that lovely of her? They were throwing them out, but they are in gorgeous condition, the oak wood perfect, so the timing was great. Then lunch with my Aunt Kathryn and cousin Cathy, then off to see the most important resident in Baton Rouge (in many people's opinion) the one, the only Mike the Tiger.
Yes, he has his own website). After LSU won the championships, Mike got these new digs - and no, my pic does not do it justice. When I was little, he had a humble home, but he has stayed the same at heart (even though he is a different tiger!), when we got there, he was napping in the shade mostly out of view just like he always was when Momma would take me to see him. But that's the Mike the tiger experience. Kind of the reverse of an LSU game. There is nothing sleepy about that experience. My older son wished Mike were a camel. I won't tell the rabid LSU fans that!!
Then I had a reading/signing at Barnes and Noble that night - I promise I'm wearing a different skirt and top than the other pics, it's just hard to tell!! - and that was wonderful fun to see old friends and meet new people.
Then on Thursday, yesterday, we drove to Jackson, Miss, and I got
the boys settled with Julia (who has been a godsend on this trip) at my cousin Henry's house, and Henry and I went to Lemuria, a book store I love. That's us with his friend Karla - she's a hoot, as any good Jackson girl is. One of the wonderful people at the store, Joe, has been to parties at the house my father grew up in when he was a boy in Jackson - too small a world. We traded baby pictures. I was pregnant with my second when I was there two years ago with my first novel, and he and his wife were about the have their first child, and since have had a second. so that was dear to see those pictures.
Then off to Piccadilly - a restaurant I put in The Safety of Secrets - they are all over the South - don't miss them if you get down here - yum!!
And now we are caught up with me in Monroe. Tonight is a reading/signing at Windows. More pics soon.
xox

Suspicous Ocean and photos from the road

2008-06-08T21:34:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all,
So I am getting my sea legs, so to speak, on touring with two small children while keeping up with all things web, but I am glad to be getting back to my blog!

The first reading was at the Borders in Portland. They did a wonderful event, and some people I know from gather.com came, so that was great getting to meet cyber-friends in person. Another woman there knew me from my reading series, Spoken Interludes, in LA. She just happened to be at Borders that night, saw the sign about my event and stayed. Great Serendipity!

The next day, we flew to Albuquerque, and my husband and sons went to my sister's house - heaven with a pool, I would never leave if I lived there - while she and I went to my event in Santa Fe - great fun and great sister visiting. And I got some pool time the next day!

The next morning, a radio interview on KHFM-FM with Kip Allen at 8 am - early, but worth it. I'll get the Mp3 to put on here soon.
The event at Borders that night had a great crowd and fun book-club like discussion. And Whole Foods was next door to stock up on organic chocolate - hooray!

Our digs in LA. Craig's list has been the saving grace this tour. How cute is this? Bungalowsweet.com if you need a place to stay.
And it's more spacious than their website makes it sound. Plus La Cienega park is two blocks away. A happy child (or two) is a happy momma.

BEA was Saturday. I had a signing that
morning, then got to see friends/Spoken Interludes Honorary Board members Robert Crais, T. Jefferson Parker, and Michael Connelly (the triumvirate of the mystery world) in a panel that afternoon about audio books. That's my friend, Betsy Little, with Michael and me.
The HarperCollins party was that night at Fox. It was funny to be on the lot as a non-actor - funny, but really nice. I shot NYPD Blue there, not to mention countless auditions, which I don't miss at all!!

Spoken Interludes was Monday night. Litblogger Mark Sarvas of the Elegant Variation and Marisa Silver read from their beautiful new novels. Michael Kearns read a powerful piece about his work with children with AIDS in Africa, I read, and the gloriously funny Taylor Negron read a piece he wrote for the evening about his start in Hollywood as a cartoon character for a Hanna Barbara show. Could breaking into the business get any better than that?

Tuesday night was Borders in Westwood, home of the amazing Lita Weissman, God's gift to writers. Betsy (of the Michael Connelly picture above) and Lita and my sons and I had breakfast at Juniors the next day. As we were leaving (after many eggs were consumed and/or thrown on the floor thanks to my 17 month old but I did leave a good tip, I remember being a waitress) we asked a woman to take a picture for us. She said sure, then promptly jumped into the photo and smiled. We said, Oh no, we were hoping you would take one of us. She looked confused, though not as much as we were as to why she would get in our picture, but she took the photo, then said goodbye. The valet - yes, this is LA, the deli's have valets - told us she was Fantasia from American Idol. I still don't know who she is, but I'm sure that has a lot more to do with my lack of TV time than hers.
Wednesday was Flint Ridge Books and Cafe in La Canada. I had
never heard of that town either. Now, I want to live there.
It was like stumbling upon a Ross
MacDonald novel without the murder. Total Southern California
circa 1950. I've been wanting to retire to Malibu in 1975, but since that isn't possible, maybe I can get my husband for us to move there instead.

Thursday I called in to do a radio interview with WWNO in New Orleans, then that night, Vroman's. Here I am signing a book in their office before the event. Yes, I did wear the same outfit two nights in a row. But it was only a few hours each night, so I figure combined together, they made up only one day. Sort of.

Friday, we flew to Louisiana.
As the plane left LAX, and flew out over the ocean to turn around, my 4 year old asked me what river that was. I told him it wasn't a river, it was the
Pacific Ocean. He said, "The suspicious
ocean?" I told him no, but really wanted to say yes.
We got to Baton Rouge, where it is over 90 degrees plus 95 % humidity - welcome home! I keep asking my family and friends if it was this hot when we were growing up. Either it wasn't, or I have been up north too long. I drove straight to NO to tape a TV interview (check that out here), then woke at 6 to call in to do a TV interview over the phone for a morning news show in Lafayette called Passe Partout (I love being home! Where else in the US would a news show have that name??) then later drove to Lafayette to do an event at the Museum at USL.
I got to see lots of old family friends and cousins I'd never met and meet new people - great fun.
It rained on the way home over the Atchafalaya Basin. It was a lot more beautiful than this picture, but here's a small taste of that.

Today, I did a reading at the Baton Rouge Art Gallery. I'm so happy to be back in the South where people dress up and wear hats. More soon.
xo

1st Stop: Portland, Oregon

2008-05-24T21:41:00.000-07:00

So, we got into Portland at 11:00 PM or 2 Am NY time on Friday. Didn't get to sleep until 2 (or 5 am NY time), having been awake for 23 hours. My one year old woke up four hours later. Needless to say, yesterday was all about trying to feel like a human until I could go to sleep. We are here for a family event for my husband's family, and then my book tour kicks off here on Tuesday, the day my book comes out, at Borders Beaverton. It hardly feels real. The rest of my husband's family is staying at a hotel on the river, but all I could think about for the past few weeks was me and my husband in a hotel room with no kitchen and our 2 small children, so I fled to Craigs list and found this:
It is a very sweet little house in
Sellwood a wonderful, historic, pseudo-Melrose-but-not-goth section of Portland.
The bed is dreamy, and our sons have their own room. And the kitchen is great. The owner of the house even went grocery shopping for me before we arrived - is that heaven, or what? and half the price of the hotel. My four year old looked at me tonight and said,
"Momma, this house is small, but it is soooo beautiful."
Though I think that had more to do with what we found waiting for him in the living room:
Legos! A whole huge box of them! Both boys were entranced for hours. Okay, minutes, but still. It was many long minutes.
My in-laws are in from Boca; the whole family is here. My mother-in-law came by our place yesterday and brought us a chicken. That she cooked. In Florida. As my husband said, that bird flew more than most birds migrate. The worst part is that it is still in the frig, in case she comes by. I can't tell her I threw it out because it went bad. If she'd believe that, she wouldn't have brought it on the plane. I was tempted to get some yellow hazard tape to put around it, but my 4 year old is into work sites, so that would just make it more appealing. I don't even want to know if she checked it or if it went carry on. It gives a whole new meaning to the term "to go." But really,
But anyway, enough about being benignly poisoned by my mother-in-law, I just got some radio interviews about my book added, and more tour dates are happening, so check out my schedule on my website and come say hey!! Happy Memorial day weekend.
xo

Off We Go

2008-05-22T12:06:00.001-07:00

Hey y'all
so the car for JFK comes in less than an hour, and I think we're ready. We have a family event weekend in Portland and then my book tour starts there on Tuesday, May 27th, the day my new book comes out. How is it already here ? Isn't it still February? I think someone turned up the speed on the time dial while I wasn't looking. I packed for myself and my two sons today. And I'm ready for my medal. Actually, the person who should get a medal is my four year old son who somehow was able to let go of the contents of the playroom and bring only one small suitcase of toys. I was looking at skirt after skirt on my bed, envision a life far more fabulous than my own, as if suddenly just by going into the air, I will wear outfits that I don't wear at home. Though I will be on the book tour, so I will be wearing clothes that aren't all about playing fire truck, but let's just say that I was having a harder time letting go of the contents of my closet than my four year old let who go of his fire trucks. Particularly difficult not to pack was a pair of shoes that I was sure were fabulous last summer, but I never wore once, then suddenly this morning, they were screaming to me that I really really would need them on this trip. I don't. They aren't coming. My sister came in - bless her, to do a last minute post office run for me, a true goddess! - and saw the bags and said, "That's all your taking?? Where are the clothes???" So that made me feel good. I am still bringing waaaaay too much, but oh well. Please come by while I'm on tour!! I'm going to lots of fun places and it'd be so nice to say hey! my tour is on my website. Okay, off to pack sippy cups, and my book to read from at the signings! Have a great holiday weekend. Summer is here!!
xox

What's in a Name?

2008-05-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

So, I had a Spoken Interludes the other night, and it was a great, fun night. On the morning of the show, I found out that Elizabeth Strout was sick, so had to cancel :( . So, I was trying to think of a writer that I could call who could jump in at the last minute and read, then suddenly I remembered that I'm a writer, and could read, so I grabbed my new book, The Safety of Secrets, that I just got from HarperCollins a few days before and took it with me to read from.
It is fun to hold the real thing in my hands. I love the cover, and the back is this really beautiful pink and green, but not preppy looking, just very beautiful. I'll get a picture of the back and put it up here. So anyway. I read first. I figured it was only polite of me to take the hardest spot. it was the first time I have read from the new book for a live crowd, so that was great fun.
Then Charles Bock read from Beautiful Children which was amazing, and hearing him read from it is every bit, if not more, wonderful than reading his words. When he finished, he did a literary trivia quiz and the prizes were two completely fab posters for his book that comic artists did for him. check one out here:
Isn't it great? The question for that one was: What book won the National Book Award in 1997? Hint, it was made into a film.
and the other question was which writer was in the movie "Drugstore Cowboy"?
That was such a fun part of the night that I am considering doing a literary jeopardy before the readings.what do y'all think??

then Jeff Gordinier read from his new book,
X Saves the World and read a section about hearing Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit which afterwards I turned to my husband and was like, okay, which song was that one? Because I love Nirvana, but never really knew what any of the songs were called. I was totally shocked when he hummed it for me. anyway. maybe I'm a bad gen X-er.
And last but very not least, AJ Jacobs took the stage, and that is the only way to describe it. Okay, this guy is hysterical. If you haven't read The Year of Living Biblically yet, get it!!
We were all double over laughing so hard. he read the section about when he has to stone an adulterer, and it is just beyond hilarious.
Okay, so quick back story, in the section that I read from my book, Fiona, the main character, is talking about her best friend's new boyfriend, Zane, who she doesn't really like, and she has this little inner monologue about him. "Zane. Whenever I hear the name of Patricia’s boyfriend of six months, I imagine some woman in a lonely rural town stuck with dusty old videos of “Shane” and “Zorro” to get her through her pregnancy, then in the delirium of her labor, naming her child Zane in deference to them. In reality, he was probably named Jim." So after AJ reads and he's talking about the year that he wrote his book, and during that year, he and his wife followed the biblical law of being fruitful and multiplying, and he say, "oh and by the way, one of my twin sons' name is Zane." So we were all laughing about that, though I did feel bad since I had just bashed it from the podium, not that he cared, and he reassured me of that in an email the next day, after I wrote him that I really did actually like the name, but how odd a coincidence is that?especially since I wasn't even supposed to read that night. and then I realized later, that another character in the book has the same name as one of Jeff's kids(and it is not a terribly common name) which didn't hit me until then. so now I'm wondering that if Charles has kids (or when if he doesn't) if one of them is destined for one of those names, too. anyway.
xo
oh, the answer to the first is Cold Mountain and the second is William Burroughs.

High School & Zepplin

2008-05-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all
So yesterday, I drove to a high school in NJ, in this interesting little part right across from Staten Island - who knew? My geography of the Yankee states is so bad. Of course, when I first moved to NY at 18, and would go for a daily run in Riverside Park, and would see NJ across the Hudson, I thought it was Manhattan curving back on itself. Even my mind boggles at that one. Anyway, I went down to do two writing workshops for the students at Middlesex County Vo-Tech High School - Perth Amboy Campus. Check out part of my group here:

They were so fun! And sweet. These are the seniors, the juniors ands sophomores aren't in the picture. The woman on the far right is Dagmar Finkle, the librarian for the school. I met her at the ALA conference in January, and we connected about me bringing a workshop version of Spoken Interludes Next writing program to her students. She made the day so wonderful, and the kids were an amazing, very bright group.

As we were getting ready for the photo, I told the boy on the left (he's wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt, but it's hard to tell) that I love Led Zepplin and was listening to them on my drive down.
He said, "So was I on the way to school!"
I said, "What's your favorite album?"
He said, "I don't know albums."
And I was like, "Oh, right."
"But I love the Immigrant Song," he said.
So I told him the other songs off that album to get. He looked completely shocked that I could list them by heart. And maybe I should be, too.
After the workshops, Dagmar took me up to the Culinary Arts shop where the students had made a special lunch of lobster bisque and shrimp scampi, and julienned carrots, and tons of other amazing stuff. My tummy was so happy. It was a wonderful day. And I got to have another nice long drive at the end with more Led Zepplin.
xo

Sunday Supper

2008-05-04T21:06:00.001-07:00

Hey y'all,
When I woke up this morning, it felt like early fall here in New York (then 12 noon came and suddenly it was like summer!), so I decided it'd be a good time to make some lentil soup. My four year old helped me; he's a big cook. We do our cooking projects when the 16 month old is taking his morning nap. Anyway. I found this recipe in the New York Times a few months ago, and it is the YUMMIEST lentil soup in the world - and so easy!!! It freezes very well, and if you seve it with rice, it is a complete protein. I like it with a green salad and crusty bread. My husband and kids love it, too. Hope you enjoy it if you make it. I realize I should have written this at the beginning of winter - sorry!! But it's a great one for next fall. Or if you are like me, and can live on soup, it's good for now, too. Actually, I have a great cold pea soup that is too easy to believe, so I'll put that one up when the weather is finally completely hot. Have a great week!!

Yummy Lentil Soup
cooking time 45 minutes
Ingrediants:
3 T olive oil - I eyeball this
1 large onion chopped - I omit this because of my 4 year old and no one misses it
2 cloves garlic, choped - I use the already minced in the jar, and usually more - I like garlic!
1 T tomato paste - I use more!
1 t ground cumin - the secret to the yumminess!! I use more and even the kids love it!
1/4 t salt, more to taste
1/4 t ground black pepper - I can't eat pepper, so I leave that out. I know, sacrilege since I'm from Louisiana!
pinch of cayenne pepper or ground chili powder - I use more, and I'm not a big chili powder person, but it gives it a great depth.
1 quart chicken or veggie broth - I make it vegetarian, but it's great either way
1 cup red lentils - it is just as yummy with teh brown
1 large carrot peeled - my 4 year old loves to help with this part, we usually use 2
juice of 1/2 lemon - if I have one, I use it, if not, no big deal.
3 T chopped fresh cilantro - my husband doesn't like cilantro, so I never use it.

1. In large pot, heat 3 T of olive oil over high heat until hot and shimmering. Add onion and garlic. Sauté until golden, about 4 minutes.
2. Stir in tomato paste, cumin, salt, black pepper, and cayenne or chili powder, and sauté 2 minutes longer.
3. Add broth, plus 2 cups of water, lentil and carrots. Bring to simmer, then partially cover pot and turn heat to medium-low. Simmer until lentils are soft, about 30 minutes. Taste and add salt if necessary.
4. Using an immersion or regular blender or food processor, purée half the soup, then add back to the pot. I NEVER DO THIS!! too much work, and no one cares how it looks!
5. stir in lemon juice and cilantro - if you are using these!

Yield: 4 servings

I usually make the whole bag of lentils, and adjust the other ingrediant accordingly, and freeze a container.
Hope you enjoy it!

Meet My Ex

2008-04-30T09:27:00.000-07:00

There comes a point in most - or some, depending upon jealousy issues - marriages when eventually one's spouse is introduced to one's ex. My marriage reached that point a few nights ago when my husband and I saw the current production of "Gypsy" now playing on Broadway, with my ex-longterm-boyfriend, Boyd Gaines, in the male lead role. Considering that we watched Boyd for almost three whole hours before we met for drinks, I think that is a pretty strong indication that my husband falls in the not-jealous category. Besides which, we loved the show. If you are anywhere near NY, do not miss it!!!!! Boyd gives yet another of his incredible performances, imbuing the character with such life and humor and heart - he literally makes you laugh and cry. And Patti Lupone is a masterpiece. I have never seen an actor and a role fit so perfectly that it is hard to believe she had to learn lines and songs for it. It is a production to remember for lifetime. So after it was over, we went for a drink at a clubby little bar that used to be Upstairs at Joe Allen's, but I have no idea what it is named now, and we had a great time. Boyd and my husband got on famously, and the circumstances reminded me of one of my favorite Boyd stories:
Boyd went to see former girlfriend, Megan Gallagher (she was with him before me) in a play, and goes backstage afterwards to see her. He is in her dressing room, when Megan's boyfriend comes in, but the boyfriend just starts talking to Megan, and doesn't acknowledge Boyd. Now Boyd knows that this boyfriend knows that he used to date Megan, and being the Southern gentleman that he is, at a lull in the conversation, Boyd puts his hand out to the man and introduces himself.
The man looks at him completely appalled and says, "Okay." as if the situation is anything but.
Boyd ponders this for a moment, then says, "Perhaps you didn't hear me, I said, 'I'm Boyd Gaines.'"
"Oh!" the man replied. "I thought you said, "Let's avoid games."
Which pretty much sums up those situations, doesn't it?

Notes from the Front

2008-04-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all
So, a few of y'all know that through Spoken Interludes, I run an out-reach writing program for at-risk teens called Spoken Interludes Next. Okay, yes, it is the Jr. version of titles, but it is meant to invoke the next generation of writers for the reading series, get it??!! So anyway, if you aren't familiar with it, check out the short and (I know I'm prejudiced, but...) totally heart-warming video here.
When I think about what I miss in LA, teaching in this program tops the list, even before the incredible produce. So, the other day, I got a note from one of the teachers, the amazing Lan Tran, and I wanted to share it with y'all. This note, plus teaching four special writing classes at the local middle school (including the head of publicity at HC's son whom I adore!! Not that I have favorites!) has inspired me to start Spoken Interludes Next here in NY in the fall at a home for boys in the foster system. Now to raise the money! But if I have to do it with my son's crayons and just me, I will. It is too hard to think of a community to close to me that I could bring this program to, and not start doing it. So, here's Lan's note below. Don't these kids sound amazing??
xo
From Lan Tran:
While I've taught writing to adults in the past, this was my first time working with high school kids so I was nervous about how effective I'd be. The students really surprised me from the get-go with their spunk and creativity. One of them loves riding mechanical bulls, another one is in a rock band that regularly performs around town and she wants to be a coroner when she grows up. All of them genuinely pursued their writing projects but I was especially struck by one student who wrote about a trip into space where she lands on another planet, identical to Earth, populated by folks who've died. There, she runs into her rock idol, Joey Ramone, and also reconnects with her brother. It was funny, charming, and highly imaginative (especially one part when Joey Ramone tries to stowaway on her rocket ship). Another student, impressed everyone with a multi-layered, multi-part story about one narrator's relationship with money and life. In the first part, a young boy is weighing coins and comments how even though a quarter is worth more than a penny, if you put enough pennies on one side of the scale, they will weigh more even though their value is not more. In the second section, we learn the boy is wealthy when he saves a fatally wounded homeless kid and pays for his medical bills. In the third section, the boy is now an adolescent and he kills a rat to win some money, much to the displeasure of his father, who says that life is more important than money. The boy argues back, that money can be more important than one life, because money can be used to save many lives. In the final section, the boy is now a successful businessman who owns a multi-national conglomerate dedicated to saving lives. Then he learns that his best friend has died in a car accident and he realizes that despite all his financial power, he couldn't save the life that mattered most. Thus he realizes the weight of money, once more.

On our last day, when the students wrote their thank you letters to the donors saying what they appreciated about the program, I scoured those letters, trying to find what I did right as an instructor and what worked. How could I be a better teacher? To my surprise, what nearly all the students liked most about me had nothing to do with what I consciously did as teacher. They just liked me. It was such a gift! But apparently what they love most about the program is the exposure and one-on-one time with a published author. Who knew?
I learned as much as they did!

Exactly What I Wasn't Going to Write About...

2008-04-09T10:58:00.000-07:00

But how can I not???
Yes, I am going to write about my children.
So last night, as I was putting them to bed, my older son, who is four, asked if he could have another hug.
I told him he can always have another hug.
He said, why?
I said, because my heart is full of hugs for you.
He said, how do you know they are for me?
I said, because they have your name on them.
He said, is it spelled correctly?

So my question is: Who told him that his Momma is a rotten speller??!!

Then my fifteen month old son, who thinks he is four, proceeded to throw his blanket out of his crib and squealed with giggles every time I retrieved it. I did not help this game to end sooner by giving him hugs every time he did it. My older son asked if those hugs had his brother's name on them. I told him they did. Shockingly, he seemed assured that his brother's name had been spelled correctly.
Finally, after about 10 songs, they were exhausted and fell asleep.

How the Dinner Table Made Me Write

2008-03-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

In the French Catholic world where I grew up in South Louisiana, there was only one ritual more important than Sunday Mass, and that was the dinner hour. True to our heritage and locale, in the house that I grew up in, dinner was the most important time of day, partly for the food – my Momma’s incredible Creole cuisine – but mostly for the conversation. Or should I say storytelling.
Because that’s what it was: long, detailed, funny, and illuminating stories. And God forbid you didn’t have one.
My father started first. Every night, my four older sisters (yes, four, and no brothers!) and I would sit quietly, eating our dinner while Daddy told Momma about his day. We were expected to pay attention. We were expected to learn and understand what Daddy did running the insurance company, which I never did until a few years ago. But we were not expected to be part of that conversation.
Then Momma talked about her day. My mother had her own life of running the Arts Council and working on her Ph. D. and writing, but at this point, we were more than just a silent audience because we were actually players in some of the stories of her day.
Then finally it was our turn. All five of us. And let’s just say that with four extremely verbal, intelligent and expressive older sisters, getting a word in edgewise was not an easy feat. So I didn’t. At all.
Until finally when I was about six, Momma and Daddy realized that I rarely-to-never spoke at the dinner table, so in an effort at equality and to stave off me being a future dinner-party-mute, they enforced a new rule: Every night, I was to get my own time to talk with no interruptions, no cutting off, no shouting over.
Ready? Go!
There I was: the youngest at the table, the one with the least schooling, the least experience, and the least stories as it were, but with the time to talk. I cannot think of this memory without a visceral sense of four bodies literally sitting on their hands with their mouths clamped shut. And possibly bored. Or indulging. But regardless, I got to talk, to tell the story of my day. And boy, did I. From the beginning. Because to me it was very clear that each event flowed to the next and the next wasn’t possible without what proceeded it so how could I tell them about the red-headed woodpecker at the park with Gracie Mae if I didn’t tell them how hard it was to decide which shorts to wear that day, purple or pink?
It never really got much easier to talk at that dinner table, and when I got older, the enforcing of that nightly rule fell away, and I either fought my way in to the conversation or I didn’t, but something amazing had happened. I was able to feel what it was like to have the time and the space to be heard.
As far back as my memory goes, I always knew that I would be writer. I come from a family of writers: my mother, my first cousin Andre Dubus (House of Sand and Fog), another cousin is New York Times bestselling mystery writer James Lee Burke, so that world was always around me. But that experience at the dinner table is what has made me need to write, and made me keep writing. I need to be heard, and doesn’t everyone? Even if it is only on a piece of paper or a computer screen. And if I’m not interrupted, if someone reads my stories, that is a glorious bonus. But what’s most important is that I give that time and space to myself in the dinner party of my life.
And it’s no surprise that Spoken Interludes, the reading series that I produce in NY and LA, is basically a reconstruction of the dinner table. People come together, have a meal, and writers tell a story by reading their work.
So, if you pick up one of my novels, I’d love to hear what you think. And it’s okay to interrupt me. Promise.

Bottoms Falling Out

2008-03-23T17:11:00.001-07:00

Hey y'all -
It's been a topsy-turvy couple of weeks here in New York what with the bottom falling out of Bear Stearns, and, well, I guess other bottoms falling out, too, so to speak. I'm sure Spitzer wishes he could turn back the clock and do some things over, though I can't even imagine how far back he'd want his clock to go. But speaking of turning back the clock, (and I don't mean daylight savings time, though we are in that now, too, but my sons are still going to bed at 7 pm - hooray! - though I've been wondering how much longer I have until my 4 year old looks at me and says, "It's not even dark. I'm staying up!" Please Lord, not soon!), but all this Spitzer stuff reminded me of my previous career, and I don't mean one like Kristen's. When I was acting in LA, I did an episode on a Lifetime series called, "The Divison" with Bonnie Bedelia, who was fabulous, and Jon Hamm before his present day fame in AMC's HBO-like "Mad Men" and I played a madame. It was fun and silly, and we shot it in what used to be the original Brown Derby restaurant in Hollywood from the thirties, that of course had been torn down, then they tried to build it back, but couldn't, but that's LA. So here is the clip of a scene I did if you wanna see it. But, if you do, okay, can we talk about the make-up?? Oh my God, what was that?? If anyone ever needed proof of that beauty-magazine adage that wearing too much make-up adds years to your looks, here it is. Or maybe the make-up artist decided that the hard-core aspect of being in "the life" had taken its toll on me. Though actually, he was really sweet and turned out that he knew uber-hairdresser Sam Brocato, who I used to model for in Baton Rouge (yes, Baton Rouge had an uber-hairdresser) and totally had a huge crush on which was a bit of a problem for a lot of reasons, but that's another blog post. Or novel.
xo

New Sites/New Vids

2008-02-28T11:56:00.000-08:00

Hey y'all

So HarperCollins has started this cool thing of giving authors their own little - or not so little, actually! - websites on the HC site, and mine went live today! So come to its opening party, and say hello. There's lots of fun stuff on there, so just click here.

And yesterday, I was in the city with fellow HC author Jill A. Davis doing a Q&A video about our new books, so that will be up here soon. After much silliness and too much talking, we got around to actually putting some stuff on tape, so I'm looking forward to seeing how it came out. I confess that I was a bit of a motor mouth - at one point, even Jill said, "You can't stop talking." Which, okay, anyone who knows me knows that there is no such thing as a short story or answer as far as I am concerned, but even for me, this was a bit much. Turns out that the lovely people at Starbucks gave me a full-fuel Venti coffee instead of a decaf, and I have only had decaf coffee for over 5 years. Can you say wired?? Let's just say it was a productive day.

And speaking of new video, check out this clip from an interview on Channel 12 News with the wonderful Amy Nay about my first book, and Spoken Interludes. If anyone of you haven't been to Spoken Interludes yet, this gives a nice overview of the evening.

Okay, back to caffeine withdrawals. More soon.

Things You Don't Need to Know...

2008-02-24T15:30:00.000-08:00

...But Might Be Curious About Anyway.

1- When I was in 5th grade, I named a teddy bear Rudy, after one of my big sister's friends. I still have him - the teddy bear, not Rudy.
2- I named the teddy bear Rudy because when my sister introduced me to the real Rudy, he said, "Delaune?" (he mispronounced it as "da -lawn" instead of "da-lawn-ay") Then he said, "As in mow da lawn?" From then on, he called me Mo. But no one else could. So don't even think about it!
3- My favorite item of clothing is a 1930s dress I found in an LA thrift store that I swear is a Vionnet. I can dream, can't I?
4- If I am walking next to someone, it is nearly impossible for me to walk in a straight line, and not veer into them. Just ask my husband. Or my cousins who suffered through this for all of our school years together. I am not sure how metaphorically I should take this.
5- My favorite quote is "All serious daring starts within." -Eudora Welty.
6- I could eat oatmeal (Quaker Oats, old fashion, not one minute) with a pear cut up into it for breakfast every day for the rest of my life and be happy.
7- However, #6 is a newly acquired taste. When my momma asked me what I wanted for breakfast on my seventeenth birthday, I said, "Oatmeal." But later, when my sister asked me why I wasn't eating it, I said, "I forgot that I don't like oatmeal."
8- I lived in Italy, but never got to Rome. There, I said it.
9- Speaking of other things I never did, I never saw Chariots of Fire, even though I told my mother that I was going to see it. I have a little feeling that going to NO with my older boyfriend had something to do with this story. Sorry, Momma!
10- If I was going to eat meat again - and I don't think I will - it would be a BLT.
11- I didn't give up meat out of concern for animals, I gave it up for Lent, and it stuck. But now I'm concerned about the animals.
12- My favorite poet, even before ee cummings, is my sister, Maggi Michel and not just because she wrote a poem about me being wayward and fifteen. She's also a killer short story writer.
I'd love to have lunch with Tennessee Williams because all of his characters are straight out of how and where I grew up.
13- My favorite day of the week is Wednesday because that was the day I met Jon McArthur in a MacDonald's at the end of 7th grade. I've moved on; so has he. In fact, he moved on a lot sooner than I did! But I kept the favorite day.
14- Okay, I didn't really meet him that Wednesday. I only saw him, and then I looked him up in my cousin's Catholic High School year book, found out where he went to Mass (yes, this was South Louisiana) and went to his church the following Sunday, and officially met him then. This really wasn't stalking, I promise. But only because I was too giggly to talk to him once I saw him again.
15- During the day, I can fall asleep in ten seconds flat.
16- When I was a little kid and shared a room with my sister, I would get terrified when she talked in her sleep that she had been taken over by an evil spirit and was going to attack me.
17 - In case you were worried, she never did.
18- My favorite dinner in the world is popcorn.
19- My father made the best popcorn in the world in an avocado green electric pan - remember those? He'd put 2/3's of the popcorn in the big wooden salad bowl with salt over it for him, and the rest of the popcorn in the small wooden salad bowl with sugar sprinkled over it for me and we'd watch "The Carol Burnett Show." (Okay, do not miss that clip - hysterical!). He loved Vicki Lawrence.
20- He also loved Sally Struthers, so when I did "The Gilmore Girls" (I played the Vet. I was hired in the second season with this really great recurring role - hooray! - to play Suki's girlfriend, but when I got to the table reading, and the actress playing Suki found out that the new guest starring girl was going to be her paramour, she flipped and called her agent, and the next day, my role was cut down to 3 lines and no more shows. Boo-hoo! I would have been a nice girlfriend!) But anyway, I got to tell Sally Struthers that my father loved her, and that made it worth it. Sort of.
21- My best quality is I can laugh at myself.
22- One of my worst qualities is I am clumsy. When I was a waitress, my nickname was Crash. Whenever anything would break, all the other waiters would stop what they were doing and yell in unison, "DeLauné!"
23- My most embarrassing moment was my crush on Stephen Bell in seventh grade. But, boy, was he cute!
24-My favorite animal is a polar bear, especially when they swim underwater at the zoo.
25- I love reading a mystery novel in one night. Thank God for coffee the next day.
26- The thing I miss second-to-most about LA (our family and friends there are first) is my writing program for at-risk teens. Check out a video about it here. I'm in it with a chemical haircut after two bad highlight jobs from a Beverly Hills salon that will remain nameless. But it starts with a "U".

Hey Y'all

2008-02-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

I am stealing a few minutes away from my family - my husband is with our sons after getting a two and a half hour nap, not that I was counting, okay, I was totally counting - to start my blog. It feels like jumping off into the unknown. And I know everything is like that, even though I pretend it isn't. When I was growing up, momma would always say to me, "You don't know what's going to happen." And I would nod my head, as if I agreed, but inside I was thinking, "I do know what's going to happen. I'm not going to have fun on this date, and he won't have any cute friends (as she'd always assure me he would), and even if he does, that would be too weird to go out with them because I'm with him, so what damn difference does it make? So I do know what's going to happen, and stop acting like I don't." Then I'd go on the date, and not have a good time (big surprise), making me sure that I really did know what was going to happen after all. And maybe sometimes that is true. But what I am seeing now, thanks to my four year old and my one year old sons, is that I have no idea what is going to happen.
There is an amazing article in today's New York Times Magazine about why we play. I haven't been able to finish it yet - because I was playing with my sons! - but what I've read so far talked about how play is directly related to the brain's development. And for play to count towards development, all five senses have to be used, and it has to have what they call a kaleidoscope effect, of moving from one thing to another, and adding bits of each thing together to make something else. Which is what I've been doing with my sons all morning. We started with Legos, which turned into a town for the Thomas train set, and then we did a painting for his cousin whose Valentine just arrived, then we found a place for the painting to dry, but we needed to fly to see the cousin, so we pulled the big pillows off the couch to make an airplane in the playroom, but we couldn't walk on the lines of the tile in the hallway to get to the playroom, only in the middle of the tile, so then there were peals of laughter about who did that the best - guess who? - and then we played Red light, Green light, and then someone (the winner of the no-walking-on-the-lines-game) started melting down, so it was time for lunch. And a nap for me, which I didn't get.
But reading that article about how kids need to play for this brain development to occur and how it is pretty much done once they hit puberty, so they stop playing in that way, made me understand more clearly why it is like going into a different world when I play with my sons. I can almost feel my mind letting go of how things should be and what should happen next to, so that I can just be there for where ever the play goes. I love it when I am there, it's like being in a foreign country - and to those of you with small kids, you know it is a foreign country - but sometimes the going in is harder than other times. And I think it is when I am more resistant to not knowing what's going to happen next.
And that made me wonder about how I play today. One great thing about all those years that I studied acting and did jobs was that when it was really working, it was just like play. Even with a script, there was a sense of having no idea what was going to happen next, and that was when I knew it was really working and I was just flying.
And I see my sons have that - they live that. And I can have that when I sit or climb or run or jump with them, but then I have to cook the meals, or do emails, or or or... So I wonder if I can find pockets of that in my own life by trying to remember - or ask momma to remind me! - that I don't know what is going to happen next. As much as I pretend to myself that I do. And that everything is a jump into the unknown. It's amazing how much I fight that.Do you do that, too? I'd love to hear your thoughts. About the article. About any of it. Because one thing I definitely don't know is what you're thinking. But that's another conversation!
xo
DeLauné