I’m not dead. I took Monday off — no phone, no computer — and I worked yesterday on author promotion, as I’ll be doing today and tomorrow.
The Salon Occulte was great; insane hours, hence truly exhausting, but fun. More updates when I get to sit down again on my own time at my own desk, which will likely not be until Friday as I’m at a lecture tonight, and I’m teaching tomorrow night.
After long hours of design, construction, painting, assembling, and stocking, our booth is up at the Salon Occulte.
And it ROCKS!
If someone gets a digital shot of it, I’ll post it in all its 16′ x 20′, freestanding secret-garden-in-fall-foliage glory. Seriously, it’s the most impressive home-away-from-home I’ve ever seen on the festival circuit. We were freaking out other exhibitors during set-up yesterday. And sure, there’s that aspect which is kind of neat, but really, we’re just in this for lots of fun. And publicity. And networking. Breaking even would be nice too. Fun most of all, though. Definitely.
I am so lucky to freelance for such a cool place, with such cool people, and get the chance to play like this. Really, it feels like we made a grown-up fort or clubhouse or something. It comes down in three days, but till then, we get to play!
Did I mention that we get to dress up?
Just a quick note to say that I’m going to vanish for a bit. We’re doing a huge esoteric expo this weekend, and as of today my life belongs to it. Simultaneously, I’m doing another “need by tomorrow” project for the US publisher (who will be mailing a contract to me this week, I hear), as well as publicising an author visit scheduled for next Wednesday. You might hear from me on Monday, but I devoutly hope that I will be asleep.
Enjoy the first weekend of October. Did you remember to say, “White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits”?
Happy fourth anniversary, my love!
To all my American friends and acquaintences, both those whom I have met face-to-face and those whom I have met in the cyberworld:
You have my sincerest sympathies. Canada’s nice at this time of year.
Six thumbs up for Ceri’s apple pie. Not too tart; not too sweet; not too gooey. Perfect pastry. Her Nanny would be proud.
My husband enjoyed another piece for breakfast and says it was just as delicious the morning after.
Over tea last night the topic of ancestors came up, and I was thinking about it this morning. It’s always such a pity that by the time we’re old enough to appreciate the stories and the knowledge that our grandparents possess, they’re gone. It’s some sort of comfort that my spiritual path involves honouring my genelogical ancestors, and my spiritual ancestors as well. I have a connection to the past that extends past the living face-to-face exchanges, and I value it greatly.
I also have an adorable black kitten who actually jumped up on my lap for a cuddle when I got home this afternoon. And I was initiated into the mysteries of making perfume waters at work today. I even labelled them, and they look just like the ones on the shelf. I am terribly proud of myself. I picked up my beautiful, pristine, luminescent copy of Neil Gaiman’s Endless Nights this afternoon as well. So, all in all, quite the red-letter day.
Now, if I could only get news of how the submission of my contract to the publishing board of the US publisher went today, my happiness would be complete.
I’m waiting for my chicken cacciatore to thicken so that I can bring it over to the Harvest potluck we’re attending tonight. Let’s hope it goes better than the rest of the weekend has, because wow, have I been out of it.
Let’s see: While talking, I’ve been trailing off into silence, losing my train of thought. Not what you want to have happen when you teach four classes in three days. (Mercury in retrograde? Ah. Check.) I also have the attention span of an adolescent gnat. I’ve been battling headaches as well, which I’m certain is connected to the pressure yo-yoing up and down. At least I slept soundly last night. My incapability to sustain a coherent thought likely explains my horrendous no-no in the supermarket this afternoon, where I saw my goddaughter and reached for her without announcing my presence first, probably scaring her poor mother to death. I would never, never do something like that while thinking straight.
I did, however, manage to remember everything I needed to pick up in the store. Wonders will never cease.
We’re tidying and vacuuming while the stew thickens, too, because we have a couple of friends coming over for tea tomorrow night. The cats are nowhere to be seen, of course. While we’re out tonight they will undoubtedly shed fur with joyous abandon, rendering the whole exercise completely futile. Ah, well. At least we made the effort.
I’ll go check on that cacciatore. So far, this recipe is a definite keeper. (It’s from the October issue of Martha Stewart Living, which I picked up solely because it had pumpkin owls on the cover. Turns out it has terrific cookie recipes as well as this cacciatore recipe.)
I’m going, I’m going…