okay, i just now checked my stats for this website after not paying a speck of attention for a good, long time, and it turns out that some of you out there have been making visits every now and again. What a rude hostess i have been! My apologies. If i’d known you were stopping by, i would have written some fresh material for your reading pleasure. Honestly, i thought my moment had passed and that you’d forgotten all about me. This really warms my heart. Thank you.

yours, mary

I’m in los angeles, and this city is KRAZY!

Pros to living here: well, duh. Sun.

Cons to living here: well, duh. Sun.

And the fact that because of all of that sun, i would never get to wear any of my cool coats or sweaters. And even worse, i’d be the only person on Venice wearing long pants in ninety degree heat. Because no matter what sort of torture is used in an effort to get me to cave–war, terror, death, accident, poison, snakes, spiders, having to sit through Titanic again–there will be no shorts. I’ve made a lot of promises in my life and i’m big enough to admit to breaking one or another of them. But you can hold me to this. The day I wear shorts is the same day i wear a halter top.

but all of this isn’t worth mulling anyway, since i will be back in the freezing northwest on November 20th.

yours,

mary

i’m in the new yorker. Today. Page 79. Well, not me, but a review of my book. My own sweet little book, Gone to the Dogs. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? And they LIKED it. They call my voice “expert deadpan.” EXPERT. DEADPAN. Are those not the two sweetest words in the english language? I feel like one of those obscure writers who wins an Academy Award and then gives a teary-eyed speech where they tell children to NEVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS. You know them? The guys you feel like hitting? That’s me! So, go ahead, somebody hit me! Because for crying out loud, the fucking new yorker.

and of course, it comes out on Yom Kippur, so i can’t even tie one on to celebrate until after sundown.

yours, mary

okay, i admit to having a tiny time issue, but is it really september? I feel slightly ill. I think i was supposed to be more productive in august and i didn’t even notice it was august until it was september. Still, as Chicago once so brilliantly put it: “does anybody really know what time it is? does anybody really care?” And if you know those lyrics perhaps you went to nathan eckstein junior high with me. Sorry about everything.

In september (the 11th) i’ll be at PNBA in portland, for all of you who care. That means you, Wendy. I’ll be sleeping in your guest room. I’ll try to be a better guest this time.

October is Wordstock. The 9th, 10th, and 11th. Great festival, also in Portland. Wendy, i’ve booked myself a hotel room for this one, so you’re of the hook.

Lots of Seattle Seven events in the works. That’s the writer’s collective that amazingly includes me among its members. Have i already written about this group? We are: Erica Bauermeister, Stephanie Kallos, Carol Cassella, Garth Stein, Kit Bakke, Jennie Shortridge, Randy Sue Coburn, Maria Semple, and yours truly. Our mission (and we have a mission statement!) is to raise funds for literacy. I’ll link to the official website once it’s up.

Okay, you can all go back to those porn sites now.

yours, mary

I am the worst updater in the world. But here i go, attempting to update, for the two of you still reading this.

Thursday, August 13: Literary Death Match at the Jewel Box Theater, Seattle. Doors open 6:30. Yours truly is the literary merit judge, which is, you know, a joke.

Sunday, August 16: U. Village Barnes and Noble, Seattle. 2 p.m. You get me, you get Heather Barbieri, you get randy sue coburn, you get carol cassella, and you ALSO get kit bakke. Come on. Where else would you find such a fine looking posse on a sunday afternoon, with brains, no less. We’re doing a group reading. It’s a fundraiser for teens and literacy, a non-profit called TIPS.

got to go.

yours, mary

for the brave: http://news.shelf-awareness.com/nview.jsp?appid=411&j=732140 Scroll down to book brahmin. Don’t say i didn’t warn you.

yours, mary

Yes, i’m feelin’ good today. And why am i feeling so good? Well, for one my darling daughter is sitting on the sofa next to me, eating a sandwich and looking her adorable self. But also, it’s just been so so so nice to get so many nice comments from people. You know, you write a book and then you have NO IDEA if anyone’s going to like it. Thank you to the people who took the time and made the effort to write me. I really appreciate it.

And the subject line is a quote from Trading Places.

yours, mary

okay, got my man an antibiotic so now it can be all about me again.

yours, mary

In other news:

Finally, and i mean Fine-Uh-LEE, i manage to get my husband out of town, alone, no kids, no Sparky, no bad guy litigators returning his bad guy litigator emails, no lawn to mow or plants to water or online tall man/wide shoes sites for my tall man with wide feet to peruse, nothing but water and wine and hours upon hours of nothing pressing to do, and what happens? He comes down with a fever. And i don’t mean the we-got-married-in-a-fever kind of fever. I mean 103.7 fever with lots of shakes and chills. The freak me out kind of fever.

We are off to see the doctor in thirty-two minutes.

yours, mary

A huge thank you to all of those high school buddies of mine who turned out to see me last night. Melinda still wins for nicest hair. Also, thank you to Melinda’s daughter Anna for so kindly remembering the tip i gave her on the ferry last month: when you read someone’s book, there is only one thing you say to that person when you see them. Loved it! Which is what she said to me. Smart girl, that Anna.

two readings next week, and then that’s all she wrote.

yours, mary