Tuesday, March 22, 2011


3:15am EST. Wake up, shower, finish packing.

4:04am EST. WAWA! Because you can't leave for a journey/come home from a journey without first going to Wawa. PHILLY LAW.

4:43am EST. My dearest most wonderfullest husband drops me off at Philadelphia International Airport.

4:51am EST. An airport worker tries to convince me that my rolly suitcase is too large for the overhead compartment, and that I need to check the bag. I freeze her with my super-terrifying Death Glare, remove a sweater from the rolly suitcase, put it in my other bag, and go on my merry way through security.

5:01am EST. I get through security and put the sweater back in the rolly suitcase.

6:03am EST. The rolly suitcase, with the super-puffy sweater, fits into the overhead compartment JUST FINE.

6:15am EST to 9:15am PST. Flight from Philly to San Francisco.

After landing, I picked up my Big White SUV, which I have named Moby D, and used the Abrams GPS to drive up to Book Passages in Marin County. The GPS has two names--

Name for when the GPS is behaving: Buddy

"Okay, I turned left, where to now Buddy? Drive 1.9 miles? Okay Buddy!"

Name for when the GPS is not behaving: Señor Poopypants.

"What do you mean, you've lost satellite feed? Do not make me throw you into the San Francisco Bay, Señor Poopypants!"

After a massive salad at the Book Passages cafe (so good to eat something green after my breakfast of pita, cheese, and leftover hamentashen) (I don't miss airplane food, but I do miss the days when it was free) I met up with two women named Susan and Sue. They have last names. I am really, really tired and don't quite remember them. But I slurped down a mocha and Sue took me to the Marin Elementary School.

I'm not exactly sure what I said to the kids, but I was powered by mocha and adrenaline and it seemed to go pretty well. The kids were great and asked terrific questions, and I think that I answered them with words.

Back in Moby D, I drove into San Francisco and found the hotel. In order to get into the garage the receptionist, Hester (also known as AWESOME HESTER) measured Moby D and then guided me, airport tarmac employee-style, into the narrow entrance of the underground garage.

7:39pm PST. Begged the Spirit of Jet Lag to let me stay awake until at least 8 so that I could sleep through the night.

2:02am PST. AWAKE!!! Oh Spirit of Jet Lag, please oh please be merciful to me today?

I'll be at Books Inc. in the Marina at 4:30 today--come on down if you're in the San Francisco area and you want to hear me say some words!

Sunday, March 20, 2011

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Joke

Fred the Fish and Sam Clam were best friends, even though Fred the Fish was pretty square (he always goes to school) and Sam Clam was a little wild (he never met a mussel that he didn't want to pump). But still they were the best of friends.

One day, Fred's school was caught and he became an excellent entree at a local bistro. But Fred's little fishy soul went to heaven, where he got some white robes, a halo, and a harp, and Fred was happy.

But he missed his friend. One day, during harp rehearsal, he heard from a recently arrived lobster that Sam had also passed away. "But he's not here!" Fred cried, and then realized...uh oh...Sam must be there.

The music director saw that Fred was upset, and took him aside. "You know, I can talk to the Big Guy for you, and maybe you can go down there for a little while and say hi to your friend." He was true to his word, and the next day, Fred was allowed to visit Sam, with only one stipulation: He had to be back in heaven by midnight, or he'd have to stay down there forever.

Down Fred went! He had no problem finding Sam--he was running a popular disco. Sam laughed and embraced his old friend, and the two talked about old times and caught up. Sam gave Fred a tour of the club; Fred played a harp solo for Sam that he'd been working on. They were having such a nice visit that Fred lost track of time, and all of a sudden he realized it was 11:55. "Yikes!" He yelped, "I have to go!" He bid a quick farewell to his old friend and made a dash back up to heaven.

"So how was it?" The musical director asked Fred the next day.

"It was great," Fred said mournfully, "but...I left my harp in Sam Clam's disco!"


Heading to San Francisco on Tuesday for some book store and school visits!