Frazzley Friday

After putting my car in the shop, hitching a ride to school and a meeting with T, hitching a ride back home, T going to work, me finding out that tire isn't fixable and thusly car will be in shop all day and I at home (not the worst thing in the world), looking with overwhelm at my house and subsequently vacuuming so manically that if a pet had walked across my path he might have been sucked up, finding rides home for the boys, cooking my share of dinner for thirty (friends and I are co-hosting a party tonight), cleaning up from said prep and attempting to find and order the Darth Vader costume for which Oliver is besottedly pining, I have hit a wall and am so ungodly tired. Naturally, I have just sat down and Oliver should walk in at any moment. It's a Word World afternoon whether he wants it to be or not. Jack has chess so will get home another hour or so from now. I will say that this morning with him sucked due to an extreme meltdown over homework that he didn't complete last night. He suggested he didn't want to see me for the rest of the month but then recanted and climbed upon me like a koala bear. Whiplash, people, whiplash.

So, let's talk about Jennifer Senior. It was marvelous to be out and about last night, and JS is an incredibly likeable, smart woman. Last night's book event was her first ever, and unless she had told us that, I would not have known. She was charming, and I'm happily through her book's intro and into Chapter 1 despite the generalized lunacy that is my life. I NEVER stand up to speak or ask questions at events like her reading but I did last night, and it was invigorating, not least because we had a delightful exchange during which it came out that I was the one with whom she'd tweeted the night before (I sent her a fan tweet plus the essay I wrote that was inspired by her recent NY Mag article and book; she tweeted me right back and apparently loves Benedict too).

Afterwards, I got in line to have my book signed and she inscribed it as such: "Emily, Nice to real meet you! Let's please have a mama cocktail one day. Jennifer"

Shut the front door, people. This was a highlight of my week. If ever we were to have a mama cocktail, I believe it would turn into 2 and we'd laugh like loons the whole time. That could be crack-pipe wishful thinking, but I don't think so.