Audacious

I am here in gorgeous Grand Rapids, driving what may be the funniest rental car I've ever seen. Truly, this vehicle is an engineering marvel...it looks like someone left a Tahoe and a VW Beetle unattended in the back lot, and this is their love child. In a way, though, it reminds me of THAT DOG (a cocker spaniel/afghan mix): not necessarily something God intended, but rather unique and charming once you get to know it :)

And, speaking of unique and charming, I've been thinking about my upcoming book events. Specifically, how to make them more interesting and interactive (Paige's recent blog post is to blame; she made me realize that EVERYONE has more fun when an author brings more to the table than just, "Hi. I wrote a book. Let me read to you for a few minutes...")

As I mentioned to Paige and the awesome folks I met that night in Philadelphia, I've been thinking lately (okay, mourning might be the better word) about how Barak Obama stole my favorite book title. The Audacity of Hope may be the single best title I've ever heard. I mean, can't you just SEE that emblazoned across the top of my lip glossed bullfrog??? It's the theme of my entire life. And--let's be honest--the life of every single interesting person I know.

After all, for any of us who dream that life could/should/would be about more than clocking hours in a cube--that we might secretly be a writer, or an entertainer, or even a super hero-- audacious hope is the name of the game. Because it take some audacity for any of us to believe that our lives could be more than the sum of the parts we see strewn about in front of us on any given day. And yet we have to believe, right?

So THIS is what I'll be talking about tonight in Grand Rapids at Schuler Books on Alpine (7:00pm). And tomorrow at Borders in New York City (also at 7:00pm) with A.J. Jacobs.

(A.J. doesn't know about this whole audacious hope thing yet; I should probably send him an email, right? But then again, WHO embodies the audacity of hope better than A.J. Jacobs???)

And as for my spiffy rental car? I'm christening it the AUDACITY MOBILE. Who knows? Maybe it will become THE car for superhero transport! There's certainly enough room in the back for the entire League of Justice...

Thanks, Paige, for inspiring me to raise my game ;)

The attempted weekend

We tried to go to the Red Sox game on Friday night, but it was pouring outside. Raining cats and dogs (and cows and sheep and even the occasional wombat) such that I officially ceased to care whether our boys in red beat the team from Texas. In lieu of the game, we went to a sports bar for dinner and sat by a table of TWELVE kids, all under age nine. They were pretty adorable, I must say...especially one little girl, who sat there staring at the flat screen TV, picking her nose, and eating it. I'm not sure why, but that absolutely cracked me up. Made me wonder what food group her nose nutrition falls into? (It's kind of like the portabello mushroom question, right?)

We also tried to buy a car. Really tried. But after a weekend spent shopping for hybrid cars, I now understand Goldilocks's dilemma. Everything we looked at was great, but yet not quite right: too big, too small, too expensive, to complicated. We had a brief moment of glee and excitement when we sat in the hybrid Camry, but then we popped the trunk--yikes! I have purses that hold more. Let's just say there's no chance of mobsters hiding bodies in the trunk of a hybrid Camry. (I bet Toyota could build a commercial around that...)

Right now, I'm trying to pack for this week's trip to Grand Rapids/New York City. There's an open (empty) suitcase near my bed, and clothes that should probably be in there sprawled from one end of our condo (where the washing machine lives) to the other (where I hung some things in the shower, hoping the wrinkles would magically disappear). Here's my big dilemma, though: what to READ on the plane. On two of recent trips, my luggage was at or over the weight limit, and hardcover books were a prime culprit (because really, how heavy can a pair of cute heels be?) So for this trip, I'm deciding between paperbacks: Anita Shreve's LIGHT ON SNOW, Jen Lancaster's SUCH A PRETTY FAT, and Chris Lowney's HEROIC LEADERSHIP.

Important decisions, no? I'm consoling myself with the fact that should I need more choices, chances are I'll be able to find a bookstore somewhere in my travels :)

Kermit was right...it's not easy

We're looking at hybrid cars. I'd love to say it's because I'm a devout lover of the environment who longs to wrap my arms around our planet and give it a great big hug...but that would be a bit of a fib. We're looking at hybrids because our current car is a giant, gas-guzzling sedan and we're not sure how long we can keep him in the style to which he's become accustomed.

We bought Xavier George (Steve named him from model number, XG350) a few years ago. Admittedly, we weren't exactly savvy shoppers--my mom was in the hospital (she's fine now, I'm happy to say) and we weren't sure when I'd need to drive up to Maine on short notice, or what exactly I'd be driving to. The car we had was too unreliable for emergency times, so we headed out to find a new one.

We were both so distracted by everything going on with my family that we narrowed our "must have" list down to two things:
1. A trunk big enough to fit Steve's gigantic goalie pads for the days he plays hockey; and
2. A tan interior, so THAT DOG'S fur wouldn't show too badly during spring when she sheds.

Needless to say, we stumped the sales guys. I mean, who buys a car based on trunk size and matching the interior to their dog??? Still though, we could have done worse. Xavier George has been a fabulous auto, right up until the cost of filling his tank came to equal the cost of sending him to college.

So the hybrid search begins, and I have to ask: do any of you drive hybrids? Do you like them? I rode in a Prius cab from the airport the other day, and on Boston's crazy, beat up roads it felt a bit like riding a roller skate down an Olympic mogul course....

But I wonder, does it feel different when you're driving? Or would I be so distracted by all the money I was saving on gas that I'd ignore the increased chance of peril? Encourage me, oh wise blog readers! Help me be glad to be green!

Home!

I'm home! The alarm went off at 5am this morning in Chicago, and I clicked my heels together like Dorothy, hoping for some supernatural transport. It came in the form of a driver named Danny who got me to O'Hare before rush hour. Three cheers for Danny!

Now I'm eating pasta, petting THAT DOG, and planning to take a nap.

Happy Wednesday :)

UPDATE (3 hours later): Nap was great. Woke up to discover this priceless gem on Galleycat, and almost wet my pants, I laughed so hard. (My favorite part is where he asks, "Wait-my book can have it's own Facebook page? I thought that required...you know, a face?")

Live, From Studio SB

I was on TV today!!!

(Note: I had planned to blog about my flight yesterday from Boston to Chicago: Asking if any of you know why United has that bizarre 3'x5' red floor mat at each gate to "welcome" their frequent flyers; telling you about the guy in the back of the plane who fell sound asleep the minute we took off and spent three hours snoring LOUDLY, in between bouts where he stopped breathing altogether.... But if I were reading this, I'd be thinking, "ENOUGH about the snoring plane dude, Trish...tell me how someone who trips over her shoes and spills coffee everywhere she goes survived a ten minute segment on live TV???") So here you go:

Truth be told, I spent the whole morning--from the moment I woke up to the lovely chiming alarm clock at 5:30am--worrying about spilling something on myself. I had an entire emergency backup outfit waiting in the car in case had one of my unfortunate collisions with liquid, but I'm proud to report that by refusing all beverages, I made it to the set unsullied. My Aunt Debbie came with me to the show, which was great...she even knew one of the hosts. I knew I could count on her to speak up if I came out of the ladies room with lipstick on my nose, but fortunately (okay, miraculously) it never came to that.

The actual filming--what I thought would be the most stressful part--was surprisingly normal. The two hosts of The Harvest Show, Chuck and Kelly, were friendly, engaging, conversational...totally easy to chat with. They asked great questions and I think I answered them in a way that was at least coherent. And I managed to get through the entire interview without using the word "determinator," making this a personal best.

I thought the whole camera thing would be weird, but the chairs were turned towards each other so I couldn't see them at all. What I could see, though, was a giant flat-screen TV of the segment we were filming, which made me think deep, reflective thoughts such as, "Wow-I'm really pale!" Profound, and focused in the important moments. That's me.

I realized midway through the segment that my habit of looking up/down/off to the side when I think about an answer probably looked weird on TV (I noticed that Chuck and Kelly managed to keep their eyes upright, facing actual people) so I tried to correct mid-stream. But overall, it was fabulous and fun, and much more natural than I ever expected.

You can check it out here. (If you click on the link for Monday May 12, I'm the second interview, about 30 minutes into the program.)

Tuesday, I'll be reading & signing at Borders Books in Evanston, IL, which is outside Chicago. David Sedaris will be there a month from now, so this is kind of like me being his warm up band, right? Like Gwen Stefani & NoDoubt going on tour with U2???

(Sure Trish, It's just like that...)

Hope to see some of you there :)

Life Lessons

We just got back from our DC/Philadelphia tour. After hours on trains, planes, and practically every vehicle Toyota makes, I've learned a thing or two...

1. I can't drive and eat a Wendy's cheeseburger. I think I can, but I can't. Next time I decide this might be a good idea (you know, so I can get to my destination that all-important six minutes faster), I might as well just squirt whatever top I'm wearing with mustard and throw it away.

2. I shouldn't eat a cheeseburger from the Amtrak club car. I'm not sure anyone should, but it's too late to be making such sweeping generalizations. Suffice to say that from this point on, I'll take minor hunger pangs over heartburn. Not a tough choice.

3. People are worth it. I've met the most amazing folks this week. From Heidi and Megan in DC, to an anonymous blog friend I'll call "Drinks & Fiddles" I met for coffee when I first got into Philadelphia, to the incredible Paige who was part of the wonderful crowd at the fun girls' night event last night (not to mention my newest blog friend, JP), all the travel and bad cheeseburgers and hours of driving were totally, TOTALLY worth it.

I'm too exhausted to describe it with any sort of clarity, but I'm extra grateful for all of you I'm meeting on this tour. Who knew a frog could lead to such great friends?

Good night, all. Sweet dreams :)

Lost & Found, VA edition

Yesterday, I learned that I should never, ever (really-under ANY circumstances) rent a car without saying "Yes please!" to the nice man at the rental counter when he asks if I'd like a GPS. Even when I'll be in a city I've been to before. Even when it's a place I used to live.

We spent most of yesterday lost in Northern Virginia, which isn't all that hard to do, given that so much of this area is newly developed and looks pretty much the same. But the special and unique part of our getting lost was that we somehow wandered so far past where we were headed (I kept saying, "I think it's just a bit further, up here on the right...") that we ended up IN THE WOODS. On a DIRT road. Passing abandoned farms that look like movie sets for some horror flick. Not good.

When we finally found our way back to civilization, we abandoned all our plans for errands and other useful endeavors and headed directly to our friends Gavin & Emily's house so we could pat their puppy. This is Soren. Can you see why some quality time with him makes life much better?

He's only eleven weeks old, but there is every indication that he'll grow up to be a very fine THAT DOG in his own right. Which you all know is high praise :)

Yesterday's other redeeming feature was last night's book signing. I'll admit, it was a little (okay, a lot) humbling: It was my first time as an author to come up over the stairs to the area where I'd be reading to see...two people. Every author knows this day is coming, the day you'll be reading to some random guy browsing the Science Fiction section next to the podium and giving directions to the bathroom. And yet you hope against hope it never will.

Steve was there, as well as Gavin & Emily. So when you add in lovely Anna, the Borders employee, we had seven of us all together. Rather than pretend that it was normal to read aloud into a microphone for an audience of seven, I asked everyone to introduce themselves so that at the very least, we'd all be friends.

This is how I met Megan, who should be paid by every bookstore in the greater DC area to attend author events. She asked the BEST questions...I wish I'd recorded it. It was like a dream, chatting with her about writing, dating, sorting out life. Megan is new to the blog world, so if you're reading this today Megan...Welcome! And thank you :)

AND THEN, my next audience member introduced herself, and it was HEIDI!!!

Now, I get rather excited to meet blog friends...I almost couldn't do the reading, because all I wanted to do was sneak off to a corner and chat. If there'd been a restaurant next door, I would have suggested we all move there and order chocolate martinis :) Heidi took approximately 14 forms of public transportation to get to the reading, which absolutely makes her my hero. And she explained blogging to Megan in a better way than I ever could have, which made the whole event like a little party where everyone kicked in something to the conversation.

SO, all that to say...it was one of those lemon-ish days that turned out to be filled with lemonade. Thank you Steve, Gavin, Emily, Soren, Anna, Megan, and HEIDI! I'm a grateful girl.

Next stop: Philadelphia!

Dog in Maine, Frog on Tour

I just left THAT DOG in Maine, placing her care in the capable (albeit sticky) hands of my niece and nephew, dog-sitters extraordinaire. Steve and I will be traveling this week, taking the frog book on tour in Washington DC and Philadelphia. And while THAT DOG is a Philly native who has friends in dog parks across our nation's capital, the idea of squishing her into the cargo hold of a plane is more than I can bare (bear? How can I not know how to spell that???)

Anyway, I'm terrible at leaving her. I imagine her sulking off in a corner, spending every moment pining for us and wondering why we abandoned her. The truth? I suspect that at this very moment she's following a small child across the living room, hoping a cookie will crumble. She'll have a happy week of scarfing down wayward goldfish crackers and scraps of PBJ's. I think she'll be okay :)

Here are some pics from the two signings this weekend. How do I love bookstores? Let me count the ways...First, the amazing display created by the Harvard Coop:



And me signing a book for my Dad at the Borders in South Portland, Maine.

This was a funny moment. You see, I gave my parents a copy (if you've read the book, you know that they've earned it...) But being the awesome, supportive Dad that he is, he bought another copy. He had me to sign it "To Whom It May Concern," because he can't imagine which of his fishing buddies--he's a retired lobsterman--he's going to give a book about how his daughter sorted out her love life. Can you imagine that conversation??? Makes me laugh, just thinking about it...

Here's the incredible Borders staff: Stephanie, Craig and Shanna. I ADORE them. If you're ever in Maine, stop by and say hello--they're fun folks to know :)


Next stop: Borders in Bailey's Crossroads, VA-- Tuesday night @ 7:30.

Flyin' the (Harvard) COOP

I'll be reading/chatting/signing my book at the Harvard Coop Bookstore tonight at 7pm!

This feels like a bit of a full-circle moment, as the Coop was one of the places I came to all the time when I first moved to Cambridge, when I was sorting out the scraps of my life and not sure what to do with the long hours of every day. I didn't have job, or a plan. But I had THAT DOG, and enough money to buy a small cup of coffee.

At least three times a week, THAT DOG and I would walk to Harvard Square to "fly the Coop," as I jokingly called it (when you're alone a lot, it's amazing how funny you think your own little sayings are...) THAT DOG would prance in like she owned the place, head held high, ignoring the outreached hands of small toddlers who squeeled, "doggie! doggie! doggie!" as we passed by. We'd head up the spiral staircase, around past all the rows of novels I longed to read, and up to the third floor. In those days, even THAT DOG knew that the self-help section was where I needed to be...she waited patiently for hours as the two of us sat in the window seat overlooking the square, me searching for answers, her keeping an eye on the action down below.

Tonight, I'll be up on the third floor of The Coop again, talking about the answers I finally found. I won't have THAT DOG with me (partly because she steals focus, but mostly because I'm afraid someone will feed her one of the Hersey's Kisses I'll be passing out and she'll leave something unfortunate on the carpet) but still, it will feel like a homecoming, in a bookstore I love.

If you're a Cambridge/Boston-area blogger, come on by!

Party Pics!

We had a party last night! After all, when a new frog hops out into the world covered in lip gloss, what can you do but celebrate? My sister Meg and I spent two days scouring greater Boston for everything we thought we'd need...buying everything from plates to ice to votive candles (because what kind of evening would it be if you ran out of votive candles?) as if we were hosting the summer Olympics. Not such efficient party planners are we. But what we lack in common sense, we make up for in sheer enthusiasm. Here are a few pics:

First, the incredible cake my friend Laura made...can you believe it? That's her, slicing into the masterpiece:


This is me telling the story about the guy who came out of the closet on our first date:

...and this is Steve's family laughing at me:



George from the Harvard Coop Bookstore, selling lots of books:


Which I then signed, until my already tough-to-read signature morphed to something that looked like "T4foh Ry9g--th6#kz f4 cob4ng!" (And check out Steve off to the left in the green shirt...one of our friends asked him to sign his book, given that he's the hero of the story :) )


This is my incredible sister:


and my amazing friends who dressed like waitstaff and handed around hors d'oerves made by Rob the culinary genius, who managed to evade the camera:


and Christopher Greco, who played his song Here and Now, which I describe in the book. This was the one moment in the evening when I came dangerously close to the ugly cry...Meg treked clear across from the other side of the room to bring me Kleenex:



and of course, my handsome hubby, helping me thank our family & friends:


It was a great, fun evening...enough to make every second of writerly angst totally worth it :)

A Frog is Born!

I couldn't sleep last night. Too excited...too awed...too worried about whether or not it's okay to wear jeans to one's book launch party (they're pretty jeans, and I'll wear them with elegant, peep-toed shoes--does that make a difference?)

And now morning is finally here and I can say the words I've been longing to write since I drafted my first essay back in high school: My book comes out today! I know that this not news to most of you, my awesome blog friends who have been hanging out with me through this whole process--getting a contract, writing/re-writing/re-re-writing/trying to keep the whole story in the same tense, discovering that my cover would have a giant bullfrog and glossy red lips on the front...it's been a crazy two years filled with all sorts of unexpected fun, and I'm so grateful for you guys who have shared this trip with me--thank you!

Here are three ways you can take part in today's celebration, if you're in a partying kind of mood:

1. Get the book! As I understand it, first week sales are super-important, so a huge thank you in advance to all of you who invest (or have invested) your hard-earned money in my story!

2. Win the book! Head over to Manic Mom's blog and leave a comment about your first (or worst) kiss...we'll be sending a signed hardcover copy to the best smoochie tale!

3. Name the book! Last night when I wasn't sleeping, I realized that THAT FROG needs a name! So I thought we'd make today NAME THAT FROG day!

What does he look like to you? (Wilbur comes to mind...or perhaps Percival???)

Quality Time

My sister is coming to visit today! There will be shopping! There will be chocolate martinis! There will be embarrassing scenes at Target when we both hear a favorite Bee Gees tune blast over the sounds system and break into moves from Saturday Night Fever!

And after it's all over, we'll both leave the state for awhile to let things cool down :)

I'm off to the train station...in the meantime, if you've seen the subtitle of my book (specifically where it mentions "faith" in between "finding" and "happily ever after") and wondered if that might be more than you want to sign up for, check out Nilsa's thoughtful review here.

Tomorrow, remind me to tell you about my first big speaking experience, and how what I said is now a podcast....and how listening to it made me realize that there's no such word as "determinator," no matter how much I might wish it so...

Big Weekend, Tired Monday :)

Hi All! I'm happy to report that THAT DOG is doing much better. She had a seizure, which has happened before, but now she's okay. Have you noticed that everything is more scary when it happens at 4am? Anyway, she's back to full wiggly happiness now, so thank so much for your encouragement and prayers.

It was a crazy weekend, here in the Frog Tour zone! On Saturday, I was at the amazing Grub Street Writers Conference, The Muse and The Marketplace. What an elegant, fun gathering of folks who love writing. Per usual, I made a bit of a spectacle of myself: I walked into the room they had set aside for presenters to prepare our talks, and sat down at a table with another woman. "Hi, I'm Trish Ryan," I said, extending a hand. "Hi Trish," the woman responded, "I'm Anita Shreve."

I gawked. I stared. It was one of those moments you dearly hope you'll handle with grace and composure, and I blew it completely, blathering like a star-struck groupie at Rolling Stones concert. Still though, she was gracious and lovely and gave me great tips about going on a book tour. ("Zicam," she said. "You'll want to get some Zicam.")

After I pestered her to sign a book (I am SO set for Mother's Day) and she went off to greet her adoring fans, I gathered my thoughts for my own presentation. The official title was, "Memoir: Behind the Scenes," but what we really talked about was "How not to get sued when you're writing about your ex boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse."

After that, it was off to the airport to catch a flight to Ithaca, NY. My newest travel tip? Don't ever schedule a flight where the word "Dash" is the name of the aircraft. Imagine being air born in a Prius, only without the good feeling of knowing you're helping the environment (and with the terrible feeling that you might soon be PART of the environment in whole new way...)

Still though, it was worth it. I got to give the talk at the Vineyard Church of Ithaca, which was great, especially since when I walked in, the first thing I heard was two guys talking about the Red Sox and the Celtics...really, what could make a New Englander feel more at home in New York??? And what an amazing place to see spring finally bloom...now I understand those t-shirts that say "Ithaca: It's Gorges."

And finally, I came home to this amazing blog post by Larramie. It's like that old show, THIS IS YOUR LIFE! for my Frog Book.

I'm tired, my throat is achey and sore from so many fun conversations, and THAT DOG wants to go for a run in the rain...still, it's a great day here in Trishville :)

Diagnosing THAT DOG?

THAT DOG had a weird, scary night last night. She woke up around 4:00am and I could hear her wandering around the bedroom. When I got up to check on her, she was just standing there, staring off into space, unable to move. She snapped out of it enough to get up on the bed, but has been spacey, just sort of lying there, ever since.

I'm off to call the vet...

Philadelphia Freedom

Okay, it's happened... I got an email the other day from a friend I knew when I lived in Philadelphia...She'd mentioned to someone we both know (a guy she didn't realize I'd once dated) that I'd written a book about my spiritual attempts to sort out my love life. Apparently, he was a bit concerned that he'd see himself in my pages...that he might be THAT FROG.

"No worries," I wrote back quickly, "he's not in there." Still though--awkward!

Philadelphia was a train wreck for me, romantically speaking...my dating history could be a exhibit in the amphibian house at the Philly zoo. But now that that's behind me, I'm excited to go back and see the city with new eyes. It's been calling to me: Lisa Tucker's fabulous new novel THE CURE FOR THE MODERN LIFE is set in Center City, and Kelly Corrigan's memoir takes place in the same suburb I lived in in law school (there's something wild about reading a memoir and thinking, "I've shopped in that drug store!")

But what really drew me back to those days was Jen A. Miller's amazing travel guide THE JERSEY SHORE. Now I'll confess, when I first moved to Philadelphia, the whole "down the shore" thing baffled me--I thought, Pennsylvania doesn't have a shore...does it?!? But then a friend drove me down to Margate for the day, and suddenly I understood. Jen's book brought back such great memories--the summer my girlfriends and I rented a house in Avalon and spent every weekend soaking up rays by day and dancing at the Princeton at night, the smell of the ocean as you drive over the bridge. It was a much-needed break from the intensity of my newly minted legal career, and Jen captures all that and more.

My favorite part of the book are Jen's essays about her own time down the shore--her family memories, more recent tales of going back and exploring. If you're looking for a way into summer this year, this is a great read! You can win a copy on Jen's blog --just send her a picture of her book in your part of the world.

And I'll be in Philadelphia--creating brand new, happy memories (and hopefully meeting Jen in person)--on Wednesday, May 7th. If you're in the tri-state area, come on by :)

Further thoughts from the FF&W

My favorite quote from the entire conference came from Carlos Eire, author of WAITING FOR SNOW IN HAVANA. He was on a panel with another memoirist (who shall remain nameless because her comments were so bizarre that there's simply no nice way to write about it) who had just insinuated that no one but her--and perhaps Carlos, given that he'd won the National Book Award and all--should even attempt to write a memoir, because we're essentially just delusional hacks looking to pad our own egos.

I was mortified. I'd just met a bunch of new writing friends at the conference, and shared how excited/awed/amazed/grateful I was to have a memoir coming out in just a few days. Her comments made me want to crawl under my chair in shame. What if she's right? I thought, panic welling up inside me. Who am I to think that my story matters to anyone but me?

But then Carlos saved the day! "As a historian," he said, "I wish everyone would write a memoir. Imagine what a treasure that would leave for future generations?" He went on to suggest new legislation that would require everyone to have jotted down a few notes about their lives in order to receive social security, which I thought was both hysterical and brilliant.

Yay Carlos!

And I've heard from several (awesome, kind, wonderful) people that HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT is on bookstore shelves and landing on doorsteps from Amazon, eight days ahead of schedule. If you're one of the (awesome, kind, wonderful) folks who buys a copy, I hope you enjoy :)

Festival of Faith & Writing = Good :)

The conference was AMAZING. I can't describe it all now, but I'll share more later. Just a quick fun story and then I've got to get some sleep:

I'm walking through the concourse at the Detroit airport (a mere 67 gates or so) when I see Allison Winn Scotch's book in the bookstore. Allison blogged recently about why her publisher changed the cover for the paperback edition, and it was fun to see the new one in person. Without thinking, I whipped out my camera and snapped a picture, which drew several puzzled stares from other customers. "It's my friend's book," I explained (leaving out the fact that Allison and I only know each other online, which might sound a bit stalkerish...) "Is it good?" one lady asked. "It is!" I said. "I bought it in hardcover and just loved it." The lady picked it up, read the back, and proceeded to the checkout counter. She was followed by another woman who had overheard our conversation. Both of these fine ladies, by the way, fit the new target demographic Allison's publishers are hoping to reach with the new front picture, so three cheers for the wise people who make book cover decisions! I love the way our online author community supports each other, and if felt great to be part of that, drawing new readers her way. Especially because, as she points out, early sales make a big difference in the shelf life of a book. Go ponytail girl!

And that was just the beginning...

She of few words

THAT DOG doesn't like it when I travel. When the suitcases come out, her little brow furrows right up and she paces around after me like an anxious grandmother. Last night she made her displeasure known in a whole new way: THAT DOG, who has been housebroken for 11 1/2 years, peed...a gallon...ON my travel itinerary...which was lying in the middle of our bed...

24 hours later, Steve is still doing laundry.

On the road again...

I'm packing!

I absolutely love packing for a trip--wondering what I'll be doing, what the weather will be like, who I'll meet and end up becoming friends with. On my last trip (to snowy Chicago) I met Rachael, the featured soloist chosen by Patti LaBelle in Clash of the Choirs. So now I'm only one degree of separation from being a able to carry a tune! I mean, friendship works that way, right? Your talents just sort of rub off on each other? Maybe on my next trip I'll meet someone carrying a clean white purse...

Tomorrow, me and my gigantic suitcase (there's a chance I'm a bit of an overpacker) are heading to Grand Rapids for the Festival of Faith and Writing-- a gathering of thousands, where we'll spend three days talking about two of my favorite subjects. If only the authors of HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU were coming...then we could add relationships to the mix, the weekend would be perfect!

Hopefully I'll get to blog from GR, and share the excitement of my first-ever writing conference with you all. In the meantime:

If you were designing the perfect conference, what would the topics be? (Presume for the sake of this question that the conference will be rated PG :) )

Black (or brown or navy) is the new white

THAT DOG and I spent this morning picking the winners for the Frog Blog Bus Tour (with a very scientific system that might have included me spreading names out on the floor and seeing which ones she stepped on...) But I couldn't find email addresses for some of you. So I'm putting a call out to the following lovely blog friends...email me your addresses!

Rachel
I Sass
Sarakastic
Colleen Snell
Suzanne
Patti

In other news...Steve and I went bargain hunting on Saturday at the Wrentham Outlet Mall. Oh, the happiness! I found a cute spring top (I'm going on faith that warm weather is coming) and some pants that were sized in terms of whether you're "straight" or "curvy" (which may be the grown up equivalent to those "Husky" jeans they make for chunky pre-adolescents, but whatever...) But the highlight of the trip was this conversation:

Me: "Honey--come see this purse. It's gorgeous, and it's like half-price, then another $50 off, then marked down 30% off of that!!!"

Steve: "But it's white."

Me: "So? It's almost summer. A white bag is perfect for summer!"

Steve: "But honey, you spill things."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Steve: "You know: coffee, tea, ink from pens. It would only be white for about fifteen minutes, and then you'd be sad."

Me: (Nothing. I mean, what could I say? He was right)

On the way out of the store, I tripped. On nothing.

Steve: "What happened? Are you okay?"

Me: (embarrassed, trying not to laugh) "I fell off my shoe."

Steve: "Imagine if you'd had a white purse..."

On The Bus!

How funny is this picture? It's amazing what Google Images can dig up! This is my new inspiration for the countdown to my book release: Team Frog Tour. It reminds me of some wise words author David Kuo told me about the true nature of book publicity: He said that getting the word out about a book is like driving a wagon (or, in this case, a bus)... you go around and tell people, "Hey! I've got a bus! We're going somewhere!" and ask them if they'd like to come, too. Ideally, you have a big bus, and there's much demand to get on it and all the seats are filled.

So...Welcome to the Team Frog Tour Bus! As you look at this picture, that's me in the upper left corner, with THAT DOG waving from the next window. (I'm not sure who let the cat on, but here's hoping THAT DOG doesn't see it...she doesn't really understand cats; things could get awkward.) Steve is up front driving, which is good--he has a better sense of direction, which increases our likelihood of getting beyond the Cambridge city limits.

As my way of inviting you all aboard (and HUGE thanks to those of you who have been--figuratively at least--standing at a Team Frog Tour Bus stop since way back when I began this blog!) I thought I'd do a pre-publication test drive and see if a Team Frog BLOG Tour might be possible?

Here are the specifics: If you'd be interested in posting a Q&A or review of HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT on your blog in the month of May, leave a comment below. On Monday, I'll do some sort of random selection process (I wish THAT DOG had thumbs...she loves to be included...) and send out as many advance copies as I have on my dining room table. Of course, anyone who would like to post about my book without an advance copy is more than welcome, and will receive a heartfelt note of appreciation in my illegible handwritten scrawl. (You won't know what I wrote, but the love will shine through...)

Welcome to the Team Frog Tour Bus! It should be a fun ride :)

The Squirrel has a Girl

You do NOT want to know what was going on in the tree outside my window this morning when I woke up. You just don't. Let's just say that our audacious, hard-partying, rodent neighbor has no trouble in the pursuit department. No passive squirrel is he.

I'm off to the craft store later to get some poster board & markers. I'm thinking a giant "TRUE LOVE WAITS" sign might be just the thing to slow his roll.

Are you in touch? Am I?

I had an interesting conversation with my friend Dave last week. Someone we both care about had just received some bad news. I asked Dave how this friend and his wife were doing, and he said, "They're doing well, actually. They're both really in touch with their emotions, and I think that helps them process everything coming at them right now and stay present in a way that's helpful."

I was baffled by this response. You see, Dave is not a guy who throws around phrases like "staying present" easily, nor is he one to enthuse at great length about the importance of validating every feeling that wanders by during the course of the day. So the fact that he singled this out as a determinative factor for our friends' well being during this challenging time was provocative.

It made me wonder: Am I in touch with my emotions? Do I want to be? How do you even know? My emotions aren't located in some nicely designated spot where I can reach for them when I find myself with twenty free minutes and a box of Kleenex. I'm simply not that organized. They wander by, and I sort of acknowledge them or push them away--much like the email ads I get from various stores offering 20% off something I may or may not need--to be dealt with later or (more often) ignored and deleted. Now, I'm not completely shut down. If I hear the song "If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands," I can decide pretty quickly whether or not I should clap. But when I've gone through tough times, I've found that my feelings would lead me quickly down a pretty grim path if I followed them, so I mostly chose not to. I guess it's a survival instinct of some sort.

A singer I like wrote a blog post once, about not letting her emotions grab her by the tale and swing her around anymore, and that's kind of how I feel. I clap when I'm happy, and cry when I'm sad (and I've learned to hop on the treadmill when I'm angry or frustrated, as it's best to be away from all means of communication when that happens :) ) But I don't have an inner gauge recording my emotional temperature at any given moment; I just sort of live.

How about you? Are you in touch with your emotions? How does that work for you?

NJW

I haven't worn pants that aren't made of denim in over a year. I own pants not made of denim from the last time I worked in an office. But if you were to ask me today how my life has changed since getting a book contract, my answer would be, "I wear jeans (or flannel) every day." I have swank dress jeans, slightly hip tapered jeans, and beat up jeans for walking the dog. In my mind, denim is suitable for every occasion.

This wouldn't be a problem, except that I have several events coming up where jeans are not welcome, where I'm expected to wear normal pants of some sort, and I'm absolutely at a loss as to how to do this. What shoes do I wear with normal pants? What belts? What do I do if I spill coffee? (I mean, denim hides everything...) So this week is officially No Jeans Week in the Ryanhood, so I can spend seven days practicing...if you see me out and about with some absurd looking outfit, please be kind and know that I'm re-learning the basics of dressing myself.

All those years I waited, and now...

I just received the strangest email. It's from Joe in Africa, and has all the trappings of the usual, "send me your checking account information, as you've won the Nigerian lottery..." But Joe doesn't want my bank statement. Instead, he wants me to move to Africa, marry him, and take care of his two children. He gave me his phone number, as he'd like me to call.

The sad thing is, there was a day when I might have considered this...

Which leads me to the next thought (or thoughts) that occurred to me last night:
Thought #1: There are actual dates on my book tour! This is real! It's going to happen!
Thought #2 (Prompted by an email exchange with Manic Mom): Omigosh, I've kissed a frog in every single city I'm scheduled to visit! ACK!

Even more embarrassing was the realization that I can share these stories without giving away a single thing you'd read in my book...I kissed so many frogs that dozens were edited out of the manuscript, just to keep the thing to 300 pages. (I wonder if I could score some publicity in some Amphibian News Magazine with this angle???)

Anyway...Here are the dates we've firmed up so far. And in anticipation of this tour, I'll be featuring frog kissing stories from each of these fine cities on my blog. This should make sure I'm still humble when I get the call from Oprah :)

BOSTON Saturday April 26, 2008
The Muse and the Marketplace Writer’s Conference
Workshop on Memoir: Behind the Scenes
Omni Parker House Hotel
60 School Street, Boston

ITHACA, NY Sunday April 27, 2008
Ithaca Vineyard Church
335 North Plain Street
9:45 & 11:30am

CAMBRIDGE, MA Friday May 2, 2008
The Coop at Harvard Square
1400 Mass. Ave
7:00pm

SOUTH PORTLAND, MAINE Saturday May 3, 2008
Borders
430 Gorham Road
7:00pm

WASHINGTON DC/NORTHERN VA Tuesday May 6, 2008
Borders-Bailey’s Crossroads
5871 Crossroads Center Way
7:30pm

PHILADELPHIA, PA Wednesday May 7, 2008
Location TBD
7pm

NEW YORK CITY Wednesday May 21, 2008
Joint reading with AJ Jacobs, author of The Know It All and The Year of Living Biblically
Location TBD

NEW YORK CITY Thursday May 22, 2008
Redeemer Presbyterian Women’s Book Club
7:30pm

CHICAGO Saturday/Sunday June 7-8, 2008
Chicago Tribune Printers Row Book Fair

NEW YORK CITY Thursday August 7, 2008
Backspace Writers Conference
Memoir Panel with Gail Konop Baker, Jenny Gardiner, and agent Elisabeth Weed
10am

My hidden theme for this tour will be a celebration that I'm no longer tempted to respond to internet proposals!

Three things

I was driving around the other day with two of my friends, GPS In Her Head Girl and One Degree of Separation from Anyone You'd Ever Want to Know Girl. (We were in a rented, bright red Chrysler convertible in the middle of the blizzard, but that's another story...) We ended up in one of those conversations about what you'd grab if your apartment was on fire. Presuming all people and pets were accounted for, what material possessions would you want to make sure made it out? One Degree of Separation Girl mentioned her photo albums. GPS In Her Head Girl wondered if she could carry her Kitchen Aid Mixer down all those stairs. Not being a foodie or much of a photographer (indeed, I brought my new camera on this trip and never took a single picture) I was at a bit of a loss.

This morning, though, I know. If Steve and THAT DOG were safely downstairs, I'd grab:

1. My overpriced, totally worth it slippers. These were my birthday present this year, and they bring me more happiness than any pair of shoes I own. Before I got them, I saw two girls in the front row at a Celtics game sporting their slippers and thought, "How can they do that?" Now I understand. I'm convinced they make me a better writer, a better friend...a better person all around. I guess warm feet will do that.

2. The Cure for the Modern Life by Lisa Tucker. I'm 2/3 of the way through this amazing book and can't imagine not being able to find out what happens. The story has just sucked me in in the best possible way, and the primary female character keeps reminding me of how strident and blind we (okay, I) can get sometimes when we cling to our principles over everything else, refusing to see things as they really are. I've never met Lisa Tucker, but her bio says she lives in Philadelphia...do you think she'd let me buy her lunch when I'm there next month for my book? (Probably not, weird blogger girl you're all thinking. But still, I can dream!)

3. My to-do list. Not very romantic, but if my scribbles every disappeared, I'd have no idea how to recreate them, or what to do next.

The one time my house WAS on fire, for what it's worth, I grabbed THAT DOG, my laptop, and my photo ID with the imaginary last name I was using to hide from an ex. I stood outside while the firemen rushed in, dreaming of the new secret life I'd start after my old one had gone up in flames. I guess you can officially say life isn't going all that well when house fire comes as good news, huh? I'm happy report that things are better now :)

What would you grab?

Time to Stretch

The lovely Nilsa posed a great question in response to my post yesterday about the inspiring stories I heard at the Chicago conference: "So," she asked, "what's the first thing you're doing (or continuing to do) with your life?"

I thought about that all day. Her question stumped me. I'm an idea person, so I can happily go along for months pondering fun new thoughts and ideas, never stopping to plan out my actual application. (It's sort of like if I bought one of those fancy Kitchen-Aid mixers: I'd be totally excited about owning it, imagining all the great things it could help me create, but six months could go by, I'd never have pulled out the manual to learn how to use the thing.) So I was grateful for her question.

Here's what I've come up with for an answer: One of the speakers--her name was Julia-- talked about how we're created to have our feet on the ground and our head in the clouds. She elaborated, explaining that while we have to deal with the practical stuff of real life--irritating bosses, dirty bathrooms, our neighbor's dog who poops on our lawn--we can do so with with an understanding that God does stuff, that there is real heavenly power available to us to help, and God can intercept and rearrange our circumstances in ways that exceed our expectations. Sometimes, I forget this.

The truth is, I tend to be either/or, vacillating between practical and spiritual, with no link between the two. For example, when I arrived in Chicago, I was mired in real life; my entire body was on the ground, in the mud & muck of stuff I had to get done in order for life to work. The week before, I'd floated around on a puffy pink cloud of optimism, certain the world was my oyster, but forgetting to thaw food for dinner, return my library books, or do the laundry that contained every last pair of my underwear. So I totally related when Julia said, "LADIES! Some of you need to STRETCH!"

So that's my take away from the conference: I'm going to STRETCH. When I'm overwhelmed by worry and stress and fear and doubt, I'll stop and ask God for help. And when I'm dreaming of heavenly possibilities, I'll throw in a load of laundry. This is my new alter-ego. We'll see if my 5'4" can reach heaven and earth simultaneously :)

Things I learned on my Spring Vacation

What an amazing trip! I'm home from Chicago, a bit foggy and overtired, but in that happy, post-adventure sort of way that is always worth it.

I was at a conference of women from Vineyard churches all over the country. My friend Grace was one of the keynote speakers, and the theme of the conference was this idea from the Bible that we all have a race to run in our lives--something we're specifically designed to go for, to work towards, and to accomplish. Admittedly, there are all sorts of distractions and discouraging events that tempt us to stop, or turn around, or give up completely, essentially derailing our entire lives. Each of the speakers offered their thoughts on what it looks like to get past these distractions and keep running. None of them wasted our time with pithy slogans or empty pep talks (you know, the stuff that sounds so great when you first hear it, but then leaves you just as lost as before when you get home and think about it for more than 5 minutes?) Instead, these women shared real stories about walls they've run into (walls we're likely to face ourselves) and how they found their way around/over/through them and kept going. It was great.

Perhaps my favorite story came from a woman in her late 60s, describing in total candor some of the steps she and her husband have taken in the past few years to keep their marriage vibrant, fun, meaningful, and sexy. I mean, talk about inspiration!?! Who wouldn't want a marriage like that, one where the "happily ever after" part is still right at the center, through all the stages of life? Sign me up!

On a personal note, I also learned that microwaving a chicken pot pie for dinner in your hotel room is a bad, bad plan...

Q...but not much A

Deep questions I'm pondering, here in Chicago:

1. At the airport, while eating a portabello mushroom wrap for lunch:
What food group is a mushroom? Is it a protein? It's not a carb, right?
I still have no answer for this. I mean, mushrooms are rather bizarre--they fall somewhere beyond the animal/vegetable/mineral continuum... Into that dark land where I can almost hear God saying, "I called it a FUNGUS...what more do I have to do to convince you not to eat it???" Still though, it was yummy.

2. Last night, on the way to the conference:
Seriously...a BLIZZARD???
You know those camera shots they use on the Weather Channel featuring harried Midwesterners clutching their parkas and fighting unimaginable squalls of wind and snow to get to their destination? Apparently, they fly folks in from Boston to film those things. (I suspect it's a secret effort to get us to stop complaining about how cold it is in New England. Probably won't work).

3. This morning, at 6:00am Boston time:
I can sleep for an extra hour here???
I love Midwestern time!

Happy Weekend :)

BSP=Blatant Steph Promotion

I'm going to Chicago today!

As you longtime readers know, I have a bit of a love connection with the Midwest. I'm fascinated by the inhabitants of this region--somehow, they manage to exhibit the warm friendliness of the South in the midst of winter weather that's far worse than here New England...If that isn't a sign of miracles, I don't know what is.

I'll be attending a women's conference where my friend Grace will be one of the keynote speakers. And I just found out that I'll be back in Chicago in June, as one of the featured authors at the Printers Row Book Fair. By July, I'll be so friendly that I'll need a whole other blog to contain it :)

In honor of my upcoming Midwestern adventures, I'd like to do a little bragging about one of my writing friends who hales from that region. Some of you know her as Steph, soon-to-be published author, awesome champion of fellow writers, and the glue person for our online writing network. Others know her as Manic Mommy, blogger extraordinaire. What you might not know is that she now has her own featured segment on the fabulous website, Betty Confidential, where she fields questions about all kinds of things with her usual combination of wisdom and wit. I'd put your beverage down before clicking over :)

I'm off to the windy city!

One confession leads to another

Hi. My name is Trish, and I'm a salt-a-holic. It's been four days since the last time I salted my entire dinner plate (including the parts between the food, in case I needed extra for dipping) when I thought no one was looking.

People have told me for YEARS that this was not a long-term strategy for health and well being; I brushed them off with pithy rejoinders about how salt is a preservative and therefore the secret to maintaining my youthful glow. (And just for the record, I'm not conceding this point, not one bit).

The thing is though, I read a book this weekend that scared the salt right out of my shaker, so to speak. It wasn't one of the usual harrowing tales of high-blood pressure or clogged arteries that harass me every month from the pages of my women's magazines, nor was it a stern talking-to by a member of the medical profession. It was a memoir called Confessions of a Carb Queen by a former body builder whose food addiction (which was, by and large, determined to be a salt addiction) left her topping off the scales at 468 pounds before she finally sought help.

I mean-yikes! If that doesn't get your attention, what will?

Here's what shocked me: when she asked for help finding her way back out of her 468 pound cage, guess what they removed from her diet? Not fat. Not carbs. But salt. She described the crazy cycle of how salt leaves you insatiable, craving more and more. I thought of all the nights I've shoveled giant bowls of pasta into my mouth, my stomach begging for mercy while my taste buds demanded, "We need MORE!" And how often I sneak extra salt when I'm out to dinner, hoping no one will notice that I've reapplied four, five, or even six times. Then I laughed, thinking of a friend of my parents' who tells people he's on a "low-sodium diet" because he no longer adds extra salt to his bag of potato chips. That sounds like something I'd say.

I threw away our salt shaker Saturday night. And the garlic salt, and the soy sauce. I think we have some meat tenderizer lurking on a shelf somewhere, but as soon as I can hunt it down, that's gone, too. It's not that I really think I'll end up in the 400 lb. range; the author of this book had other food issues that--thank God--I don't share. My fear is less extreme: that I'll reach that point so many women do, where I've gained so much weight that I no longer feel like myself, and can't figure out how to get back to where I'm supposed to be. I don't want to drape clothes over my body just to be covered. I don't want to shop only in the handbags and shoes sections because I'm afraid to know my dress size. I want to be me for the long term, and if breaking my salt habit will help me avoid being Trish in a Tent, I guess that's the price I have to pay.

But still...if I used salt as an exfoliant, I might still benefit from its beauty-preserving powers, right??? Bring on the Cheez-It skin scrub!!!

Reunion

I had drinks last night with two friends from college. I'll call them Top of the Corporate Ladder Girl and Saving the World Girl. We're recently reunited here on the East Coast, and it's a beautiful thing.

On the way home, I was thinking about how the three of us are living proof that all the things they tell you are so important in college--focus, direction, a serious and disciplined approach to THE FUTURE--don't really matter at all.

Here's what I mean: take Top of the Corporate Ladder Girl. She didn't exactly spend her college days attending Future Business Leaders of America meetings. By her own admission, it was a bit of a struggle simply to remember to wake up in the morning in time for English Class. Part of what made her such a great friend in college was that she somehow remained utterly unfazed by all the pressure, and knew how to celebrate the little stuff that happened almost every day. And now, she's hugely successful in her field, so much so that she has a full arsenal of skills for hiring and firing not just people, but entire branches of her company. If I had any skills whatsoever (aside from bumbling into situations that make for interesting blog posts and memoirs...) I'd be begging her for a job, because I bet she's fabulous to work for.

And Saving the World Girl: she's a mover and shaker at the highest levels of corporate giving. She has her finger on the pulse of the Boston Philanthropy Scene (who even knew there was such a scene?), and has miraculously parlayed her left-wing, hippie upbringing into a job where she gets to travel the world AND legitimately make it better. She's like Robin Hood, only everything she does is legal. I'm telling you, the girl's a genius, even if she left our graduation with no idea where she'd go next.

Then there's me. I knew from second semester freshman year that I was going to be AN ATTORNEY (not a lawyer, but an attorney...sounds more important, right?) Yeah. Three years of law school and three years of practice, I realized that I HATED billing my days in six-minute increments more than I hated algebra (which is a serious level of hate, trust me). So I quit, went back waitressing, back to grad school, and back to dating guys who obviously weren't Mr. Right, just to have some semblance of a Mr. Right Now...you get the picture. Not exactly the stuff colleges brag about when sharing their alumni news.

And yet now we're all doing great, and discovering that we still have a fun bond that makes girls' nights well worth planning, despite our crazy schedules. That counts for something, right? It makes me wonder if, for all the things the world tells us we MUST do to succeed, it might be worth considering the possibility that we don't have to do them at all?

In salute to this realization, I'm crossing "Organize closets" and "buy scented candles" off of my to-do list, and trusting that somehow, my life will still turn out okay.

(I expect to hear from my alumni director any minute now, begging me to pretend I went to a different school :) )

Special Delivery

Our doorbell has never worked properly. We're not sure why, or what it would take to solve the problem, and it's never been particularly high on our list of situations we're eager to explore. Especially now that I work from home, I'm okay with missing the myriad opportunities that present themselves each day for me to dash down three flights of stairs with THAT DOG in close pursuit, to find only a teen selling overpriced candy bars/a Jehovah's witness selling a time share in some alternative universe/or the UPS man wanting to know if I'll accept delivery of the latest twenty-seven pound "Hams from Across the World" package for my neighbor so it won't be sitting out on her porch in the sun all day. When friends come by the house, they call to let us know they're downstairs. It's a system where everyone wins.

So you can IMAGINE my surprise when--at approximately 10:27 last Thursday morning--the sound of a doorbell rang throughout our condo. THAT DOG shot straight up in the air like she'd been set on fire, then bounced from wall to wall, looking at me frantically as if to say, "FINALLY! My people are here to adore me! Let them in! Let them in!"

I guess I'm a bit more jaded than THAT DOG, because I couldn't think of a single person who would stop by at 10:27 on a Thursday morning to adore either of us. So glanced surreptitiously out the front window to see who might be lurking below...and what superpowers he/she/it had that had caused this ringing sound.

Our street was clear, except for the Fed Ex truck parked in front of a house that sits kitty-corner across the street. That's when I saw what had caused this commotion: each time the Fed Ex guy reached for the little button next to their door, OUR doorbell rang.

It's the squirrel. I'm convinced of it.

Feelin' Groovy

I guess this about says it all :)

A slog of a blog

So you know that thing they call Seasonal Affective Disorder? The one where people grow increasingly despondent when deprived of adequate sunshine? Well, I think it's got me by the tail. I'm over-reacting to things that shouldn't upset me nearly this much (more on that below) and failing to process some of the bigger news coming my way. I'm not sure what to make of this (or what God was thinking when he designed the month of March as it plays out here in the Northeastern states).

Here's a tip, if you ever wake up feeling this way: DO NOT finish the book you're reading, the one where you know--because the author has been kind enough to warn you--that the beloved 13 year old dog you've been reading about is going to die. Put the book down. Even if it's overdue at the library, put it down. The extra dime you'll pay in late fees will be more than made up for by what you save in tissues used if you read the book. And that's not even considering what a wreck you'll be for the rest of the day when you look at your beloved dog, who just turned 12. (And the fact that said beloved dog is not comforting you in your sorrow, but rather strategizing to grab your pile of used tissues so she can tear them to shreds in a fit of uninhibited joy, will not diminish your sobbing as much as you might expect).

The one thing I try to remember now when this happens, is that how I feel on one crappy, soggy day is not in any way indicative of what tomorrow will be like. I used to get sucked down into a bog of imagined inevitability, unable to fathom how or why anyone could go through the mundane tasks of life when things were destined to always be this grim. Now I know: it's because they won't. Circumstances change. Things make us laugh. Bad news gets turned around and we forget that we were ever worried. Maybe we even return an overdue book to the library and the computer shows no late fee at all. So I'm gonna let today be a gloomy day, trusting that tomorrow, there will be something way more fun to blog about.

Okay, that's all the philosophy for now...I'm off to pop some vitamin D and download some sunshine-related songs for my iPod.

Hi/Lo

Today Is A Fabulous Day!

At least that's what I keep telling myself. The truth is, the evidence is decidedly mixed and it may be several hours before we can make a true assessment. Here's what I'm working with so far:

(Hi) The Celtics won last night, breaking the Houston Rocket's 22-game winning streak!
(Lo) It was 58 degrees yesterday afternoon...and now it's SNOWING. (I'm thinking of petitioning for a new groundhog; I need more assurance that spring will come...)
(Hi) I'm reading Merle's Door, an amazing book about a really cool dog (think Marley & Me, only this dog can hunt elk).
(Anticipated Lo) I'm afraid to finish this book. I think something bad is going to happen to Merle, or at the very least, he's going to die. I don't want Merle to die.
(Hi) I finally replaced those pitiful, leaking mugs I told you about with an assortment of lovely alternative options I picked up for almost nothing at one of the outlets up in Maine.
(Lo) I woke up this morning too congested to taste my coffee.
(Bonus Hi) The coffee stayed in the mug, rather than leaking out all over the counter, the floor, and THAT DOG'S head.

Now, some folks would say that if you have to look to the fact that your coffee mug is, indeed, holding your coffee (or mugging it, I guess would be the appropriate verb...to whatever extent a piece of ceramic can verb?) to determine the prevailing vibe of the day, you're reaching a bit beyond the accepted parameters for happiness. Grasping, I believe it's called.

I've decided I'm okay with that :)

Dancing the deep woods

I'm up in Maine right now, babysitting The Niece and The Nephew. It's approximately 22 degrees outside. I just made grilled-cheese sandwiches (slightly charred, but no one's complaining so far) and I have approximately nine minutes in which to choreograph a dance routine to "Boogie Wonderland" to keep us occupied this afternoon.

The Niece just asked "Aunt Trish, what do turtles say?" She then cycled through rabbits and camels and pretty much every other animal that probably makes some sort of noise....

Wish me luck...

5:00pm update: The children are now spontaneously cleaning their playroom. Not only did I not suggest this, I said, "No, I don't think so," when they asked if I'd like to help. They persevered without me, and now the blocks and cars and game pieces are being arranged in neat little piles. The Nephew just said to The Niece: "There are over 76 different rules of cleaning, so you can't possibly know them all..." When she questioned him, he admonished, "The more we talk, the less we can clean..."

I'm slightly concerned. I don't know a whole lot about parenting, but I'm fairly certain this is not normal child behavior, right? Have I ruined them???

Hopping to make a difference

This has had me giggling all week:

My niece, confident and splendid at the age of four, is undertaking her first project to make the world (which revolves, you understand, in a tight circle around her) a better place: she and the rest of her pre-school class are holding a Hop-a-thon to raise money for charity.

A Hop-a-thon!

Does anyone else think this is perhaps the cutest planetary improvement idea ever? How much more fun would Earth Day be with some hopping involved? I have been cracking up for days at the idea of my beloved niece and her classmates (all fortified with copious amounts of sugar, no doubt) hoping with all their little hearts while their teachers cheer them on by yelling cha-ching! to acknowledge the nickels and dimes and quarters they're earning for their cause.

There have to be more ideas like this...what else could we do to make a-thons more creative and fun? (And let's stick to G-rated options, in case above-mentioned niece is reading :) )

The Real Housewife of Cambridge, Mass

Dinnertime came again last night. It's relentless. Every night, it's the same collision between the need to eat and my inability to put something in the oven without setting off the smoke detector. In the past three weeks, I've boiled a meatloaf in it's own oil (apparently it's important to get the low fat ground beef) and set chicken legs aflame. I tried to make a pot roast, only to discover that this involves more than taking a roast of beef and baking it in a pot.

I'm not sure where this standoff with the oven started, only that it's gone on for as long as I can remember: When my sister came to visit me at my first apartment in Philadelphia, she found an abandoned baked potato in the oven. "Is this yours?" she asked, poking it with a fork. "No," I admitted sheepishly, "it must belong to the old tenant." I'd been in the apartment for six months and never seen it.

Maybe if I'd glazed pottery in my youth, or participated in some other activity that involved putting things into heated boxes and predicting how they'd transform I'd be better at this, but the truth is, I could convert our oven to an auxiliary storage cabinet for my collection of pretty pasta bowls and spend the rest of my life a happy girl.

Is that so wrong?

Looks like greener grass...but up close, it's astroturf

I just watched the inaugural episode of The Real Housewives of NYC...and I'm very, very frightened. Never in my life have I been so grateful that I know actual wives in that city; I plan to spend the rest of the evening calling them, begging for reassurance that if Steve and I ever hit the big time, he won't have to wear a thong speedo when we go to the beach for vacation. (We're planning another trip to the woods of central Maine this summer, where I'm pretty sure such attire would earn us a police escort to the Canadian border...)

Weird clothing aside, these women seem tense...and miserable. Rather than enjoying life in one of the most creative, exciting cities on the planet, it seems like their world is very, very small. There's not enough of anything to go around, and everyone is jostling for position. Isn't it crazy that such a lie would have so much power to people in their circumstances? I mean, how can you believe there's not enough when you have everything (and in three colors)? I can't imagine life where I'm just one missed party or botox appointment away from being forgotten.

Being the pious woman of devotion that I am, I know I should pray for these ladies. But I'm not there yet. I'm just gaping at the TV, horrified and astonished. Still though, it's fun to think about what I'd do differently in their shoes. For starters, I'd house train that poor puppy...it's not fair to anyone that he's left to pee on the hardwood!

Thoughts on the fakes

Blog friend and author Jen Miller interviewed me about the latest round of fake memoirs (or fakoirs, as one member of my writing loop calls them) at her fabulous book blog. Come on by to read part of my book's disclaimer, why and how I wrote it the way I did, and some thoughts on the incredible (TRUE!) books that have inspired me lately!

Happy weekend :)

Conversation starters

I spent part of yesterday compiling the Reading Group Guide that will go with my book when it comes out...you know, the 10-20 questions designed to generate discussion in book clubs and other social groups who will have the chance to talk about how I was, in many ways, the dumbest twenty-something they've ever heard of:) (I see this as way to help readers get beyond the obvious first reaction--something along the lines of, "Face it Trish-He's just not that into you!"--and generate enough interesting conversation for everyone to enjoy a glass of wine and some Brie.)

About fifteen minutes into the project, I started giggling. I realized that this whole idea is different when your book is a memoir, rather than fiction. Essentially, what I'm doing is creating prompts to generate the exact conversations I've always feared the most: the worst-case scenario assessments I was terrified people were whispering each time I veered off on some crazy left turn when I was supposed to be going right:

"What do you mean Trish left her law career? What's she thinking?"
"I don't know...Apparently, some bestselling New Age author is taking her on a 'spiritual pilgrimage' to Greece. I mean, who does that?"
"But wait...whatever happened to that nice blond guy she was dating?"
"Oh him--he announced over dinner that he might be bisexual. And you know Trish...she's so picky..."

Too funny (now, at least...) It's challenging for me to stick with the accepted question protocol (which reads something to the effect of: "Trish made a series of unusual decisions in her personal and professional life...What impact did this have on her? Do you agree or disagree with her choices? Discuss.") I can't stop imagining how these conversations are more likely to go:

"This Trish was kind of a wing nut! Why was she dating the semi-bisexual in the first place?"
"Don't you remember? She moved her fishbowl from one end of the living room to another to generate romantic opportunity, and he's the guy who showed up. But he was a Pisces, so his water energy drowned out the fire of her Leo rising."
"Man...if God can sort her out, he'll help anybody..."

I can't be the only one who has wondered about these types of conversations, right? So tell me...if you were crafting the Reading Group Guide for your memoir, what would be THE question to get the conversation started?

Multiple Personalities

Remember that episode of Friends where Monica had her credit card stolen, and realized that her alter-ego was having more fun being her than she was? This is, I realized last night, much like what happens when you Google yourself. (And don't tell me you haven't tried it, cause I won't believe you...)

A quick search on Trish Ryan reveals that I'm a busy, multi-faceted girl! For the most part, I'm still my usual writer/superhero-wannabe. But in Australia, I'm a huge football fan who paints my face for big games, and the head of some sort of government initiative to process data. In the U.K., I'm a midwife (not sure how that happened, given that I get queasy being in the same room with blood pressure cuff). Here the U.S. I'm a fitness coach (my sessions must be done in 7 minute increments, as that's really all I know about fitness), a PhD in physics, and the backup singer for a band. One site has a line about me being a hot wrestler, but I decided not to click through to that one...I'm not sure I want to know.

Kind of makes me wonder what the other TR's think when they self-google and find my blog? Have any of them been inspired to try baton twirling, or deep fry macaroni? Or is there an aspiring chef out there desperately wishing I'd stop posting about my love of baloney and setting the kitchen on fire?

My favorite thing I found, though, was actually about the real me: a review of my book that said exactly what I hoped for when I sent the last copy off to the publisher:

With a candid, earthy approach that’s reminiscent of Anne Lamott and Eat, Pray, Love’s Elizabeth Gilbert, Trish Ryan vividly addresses the trials of love and heartache...Much like a lead in a romantic comedy, Ryan’s been through it all with guys. While some of her accounts of love gone wrong are humorous; others hit a little too close to home for comfort. And that refreshing honesty makes He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not a journey worth taking whether you’ve already found Mr. or Ms. Right or not. -- Christa Banister

When I read that, I felt a little bit like Dorothy, realizing that there's no place like home. I guess that career as a backup singing woozy midwife will have to wait!

How about you? What are your many facets of Google?

America's Next Top Chef

Steve was at a conference in Minneapolis this weekend, and I set the oven on fire.

It was such a bummer. I was so proud of myself for even trying to cook something while he was gone; that's so not my style. I'm not sure how I survived my pre-Steve years, given that my only two sources of protein were Jiff crunchy peanut butter and the orange powder that comes with Kraft Mac & Cheese...

But I had a BIG PLAN for this weekend to conquer my unhealthy ways and cook one of my favorite recipes from childhood: Broiled chicken legs basted with Italian salad dressing (and if even one of you foodies makes fun of me that this is my idea of a favorite recipe, I'll come to your city and cook for you to make you pay!)

Long story short: Who knew you had to put the broiler on the lower shelf? Who knew that the "High" is not always the best option? Who knew that chicken fat catches fire?

Our condo filled with smoke. I turned off the stove, extinguished the chicken flambe, and ran into the hallway to wave a towel under the smoke alarm to quiet it's screeching warnings of doom. As the air cleared and the alarm stopped, I heard a strange noise: slurp, slurp, slurp...

I went back to the kitchen and found THAT DOG licking her chops....she'd just devoured a whole stick of butter I'd left on the counter.

The Food Network should be calling any day now...