We spent three days at the coast with Paul’s family last week, in a big blue house south of Waldport within easy reach of both Highway 101 and the beach. Good times were had by all. The competitive ones played ping-pong and pool. The littles played in the sand. Almost everyone took walks on the beach. We oldies chuckled cruelly when Rosie’s children were naughty, remembering all her comments as a single, childless observer when our kids were young. The young couples snoogled in corners and made the older ones feel very old and married and like they had forgotten how to hold hands. Emily was pale and brave. Lois knitted. Bonnie as always set the gold standard for meals with her cheesy potato hot dish and meatballs. Rosie and I made soups. Ben and Steven played football and Monopoly with Trevin and Eric and Jenny. Barb and I decided that when she is a rich doctor and I am a rich author we will buy a house on the beach.
However, if Barb and I are ever as rich as Jerry Seinfeld I hope we will be wiser than he is. Nephew Keith, who installs cupboards and countertops, had the interesting experience recently of installing new cupboards in Jerry Seinfeld's house in Telluride, Colorado. The house is three times the size of a normal house, says Keith, and Seinfeld just spent half a million dollars renovating it for a party this Christmas, but he's thinking about bulldozing it all down in the spring and building a new house on the same spot. What a strange universe the super-rich inhabit.
Meanwhile, it has been very windy and rainy for about three days and I am oh so thankful that we got this drafty house insulated and put a new furnace in.
Thanks to everyone who added those lovely book reviews on Amazon (without even a meal offer or anything) and/or ordered through the links on this page or ordered from me.
Our friend Justin put up a funny post over at kiltedblogger in which he is taking applications for a twenty-ish lady who smells nice to accompany him to the Christmas banquet at work. (A one-time, no strings attached offer.) I haven’t yet heard the results but I enjoyed the dialogue.
This is a very busy week for me: a column due tomorrow, two concerts to attend (Ben and Steven’s Joyful Noise choir), a business meeting at church, and my two potentially-biggest book sales of the year—the Register-Guard-authors sale tomorrow and the Eugene Library Authors-and-Artists event.
(The first is at the RG building, Tuesday the 4th, 4-6 pm) (the second is at the fairgrounds, Saturday the 8th, 10am to 6 pm) (spread the word if you’re local, or come by and say hello).
At my first book events around here I watched in awe as the likes of Bob Welch and Bill Sullivan hauled in boxes of books on fancy collapsible racks and then whipped out all these cool doohickeys to make things more efficient.
Well, I’m learning. Here’s what I bring along now: a big 14-year-old boy to hoist boxes and make change, a rolling luggage carrier, two cool little photo stands to display books on, a lap tray to set on the table so I can sign while standing, a stack of little white book-sized plastic bags, a cool pen (Pentech Syntech), a cool lavender zippered case for cash, an 8x10 family picture in a plastic sleeve for everyone to ooh and ah over, and business cards. Authors are not normally a cool bunch but as you can see, we try.
Other authors present at the RG event will be Jan Eliot who writes the Stone Soup comics and Maryana Volstedt who write cookbooks.
Quote of the Day:
A certain mom and friend of mine: (mentions daughter's "boyfriend")
17-year-old daughter: He's not a boyfriend. He's a conversational experimentation.
15 year-old brother: He comes and gets you, he opens the door, he takes you out, he brings you home. He's a boyfriend!
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