Thank you everyone for your expressions of support and sympathy for the tree massacre. We’ll be planting the crabapple this fall, and in the meantime we’ll be putting up eight-foot strips of lattice and planting fast-growing vines to screen our yard from the one behind us, and to provide some sort of shade so that Liam and I can play in the yard again. If the lilacs don’t die, they’ll take about four years to come back properly, and provide privacy and shade.

Liam is off at daycare again today. He woke up four times last night after we got home around 11.30, one time enough to need to be picked up and cuddled back to sleep. Oddly enough, the loud electrical storm we had didn’t seem to bother him when things were crashing and flashing right above the house for a good half hour. But he woke up roughly every couple of hours, which meant that we did too, to lie in bed and wait to see if he’d wake up completely or just half-awaken and cry a bit before self-soothing back to sleep. As a result we didn’t sleep that well, either. Good thing we had an excellent evening out relaxing beforehand.

We think his molars are coming in, because the random biting has started up again and he sticks anything and everything into the back of mouth to gnaw. That might be one of the reasons he woke up so often, too.

I ran around and did errands this morning after dropping Liam off, and one of them involved going to the Chapters on the West Island to kick around for an hour until the shop I needed to visit in Fairview mall opened at 10:00. (And the only thing I’m going to say about the second shop is that I seem to have reached a pants size that’s smaller than I wore before I was pregnant. Smaller than I’ve ever worn, actually. I’m not sure how that happened.) And while I was in the bookstore, I did something that absolutely terrified me: I asked a clerk about their policy on authors signing shelf stock.

I am incredibly shy. To admit in person, in real-life public, that I wrote not only one book but three is a huge thing. A huge, terrifying thing. I have been in dozens and dozens of shops that carry my books, and I just kind of see them there on the shelf, then smile a bit and look away quickly, because heaven forbid anyone sees me and somehow intuits that those books were written by me, because then people will make a fuss and look at me, and I will melt from confusion and embarrassment. Not because I’m ashamed of my books, you understand. I’m very proud of them. Just not in a loud “look what I did!” sort of way. (Journal completely aside, of course. Writing about it is different. And even here I tend to worry about the flaws and the challenges more than anything else.) This is the main reason why I still haven’t done an event or a signing.

I managed to not ask this question of the five friendly staff members who paused to wish me a good day and ask if I needed any help while I wandered around. There was just something so calm and kind about Jessica (nametags are so helpful) when she was scanning the books I was purchasing, so I asked her. And she said that often they had authors in for events, or they dropped off consignment copies, and was I looking for a signed copy of something in particular? And then I had to say that no, I was, um, an author, and they had three copies of my books on the shelf, and did they want them signed? She said then that she was pretty sure the store would love me to sign them, took my name, and called the manager to verify. The manager was indeed thrilled, and said yes yes yes, and so off I went to fetch the two copies of Solitary Wicca and the single copy of Spellcraft (no Green Witch, alas), and I signed them.

The Indigo chain puts stickers that indicate signed books on autographed copies.

So there; that was today’s terribly big adventure. Hurrah to Jessica. I hope she has an excellent day.

Now I have fourish hours in which to work on Swan Sister, do a draft outline of a table of contents for a book I proposed in case someone asks me for it, and practice the cello for a bit in prep for this weekend’s rehearsal.