San Jose -- What could go wrong?

What could go wrong?  Up at the crack of dawn for our 7:30am flight to San Jose.  The car, reserved, and plenty of time for a leisurely drive to Barnes and Noble.  We boarded on time, the jet engines revved -- and then stopped.   It's a good thing they noticed the oil leak before we went in the air!  A half hour later it was decided a replacement plane was needed.  Would we be on time for our signing?  We didn't know.  Thankfully, an hour later we were in the air.

Our rental car was not as advertised, and we hoped they would take pity on us and provide a car that we would feel safe in driving in unfamiliar territory.  Ultimately that happened -- though at a price.  Our advice to you -- when renting cars online, don't believe the photos represent the car you'll actually be offered.  Take a cue from online dating -- the photo may not represent the date who shows up at the door.

"Gladys," our faithful GPS, got us to the store on time.  There we found several simultaneous events, including a children's signing and guitar fest.  We hoped some of the parents would be drawn to our presentation.  We really enjoyed Barbara's family who showed up in force and took the pictures that accompany this blog.  Off to a celebratory lunch before hitting the road again. 

We spent the night with family in San Rafael, discovered a terrific restaurant -- Citrus and Spice -- and explored Bolinas, a tiny, hippy town accessible only by a mountainous road with hairpin turns and astonishing vistas.

Next stop, Sonoma!

Fran & Barbara

A Grand Slam!

Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena and Village Books in Pacific Palisades proved to be perfect-and well attended - venues for the launch of our book tour. At Vroman's, Southern California's largest independent bookstore, it was "standing room only." The first guest to arrive was a high school friend Barbara hadn't seen since Cadillacs had fins! And Fran's "Sandwich Club" (a group of women stuck between the needs of grown children while caring for older parents) showed up in force.

Village Books, a much smaller venue in Pacific Palisades, had to bring out lots of chairs to accommodate the crowd. Each of us read from the book, and, as promised, lively discussions ensued.

Not that there weren't a few gaffes. Barbara had a "brain freeze" and forgot the name of her brother-in-laws only brother. We hope he'll forgive her. And when we got home, Fran was convinced she left behind a bag of books intended as gifts for family and friends. After frantic searches and phone calls, she discovered she had unpacked the books and put them back on her bookshelf.

All in all, not bad for a couple of ditzy sisters! Stay tuned for more of our version of "On the Road."

Barbara and Fran

Musings Before the Signing

Our book tour begins this Friday. What could go wrong??? In my all-to-frequent dreams, everything! I realize I am a worrier, although I usually conceal my anxieties beneath a devil may care exterior. But I am coming clean. I ask myself, why are we doing this? The answers come easily enough. My sister and I co-authored a book. We're excited and proud. For me, it is validation after a long publishing dry spell. For my sister, it is her first fiction publication. We fee the book is good, as do our recent reviewers and we want to get a readership. Fine.

In our thinking, a book tour sounded like fun, a sisterly adventure. I sure hope that's what it turns out to be, but still. .... Perhaps my anxiety is increased because our first signing is a my local bookstore and most of the audience will be people I know. My husband thinks that's good. They will be able to provide feedback and will be supportive. I'd much rather have started in a place filled with strangers, so if I flub things, I never have to face them again.

I already made one mistake. In my emails to friends, I wrote the wrong time. When I discovered my blooper, I panicked, sent out another round of emails with the correct times a half hour earlier.

Here are some of the things I worry about. Have my friends already bought the book on Amazon thus insuring that they will show up to our discussion/signing and NOT buy a book at the bookstore. Embarrassing. I feel I am entertaining friends and acquaintances, so I've arranged for pastry and coffee. Now, I worry if there will be enough, and if the coffee will be set up. And, seeing as the signing is going to be at 7 pm rather than 7:30 pm, I worry that wine and cheese would have been the more appropriate choice for refreshments! Oh, well. When we first signed our contract and decided to do all we could to publicize our book, I told my sister, "Expect nothing, hope for everything." I think I will follow my advice, hope for the best, and enjoy the ride.

Fun is really what it's about. I look forward to the adventure. After Friday, that is.

Fran

P.S. Saturday morning. All the worrying for naught. It was a grand success. Onward!

Kindergarten and Book Tours!

It's the first day of school. Kindergarten. I must have been worried the day before. Worried and excited. Would the other children know something I was supposed to know? Just in case, I pulled as many books out of our library as I could handle at five years of age, and stacked them on the porch of our house on Maplewood Avenue. When my mother saw me she asked what I was doing. "I'm starting school tomorrow," I told her, "so I have to know how to read." Somewhere there's a photo taken that day.

Tomorrow is the "first day of school" again, our first discussion and reading at Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena, Fran's neck of the woods, though some of my old and dear friends will be there. I don't feel nervous, and I am excited, but deep down I wonder if there's something I should know that everybody else knows. I'm no longer five, I've learned the bulk of what I need to get through life, but is there something else? If only I could remember, but "remember" is probably just what I need to know.

If "remember" is that "something," I confess to it. Memory is a problem that seems to come with age, at least for me. If I've seen a movie I struggle to remember the title days later. I no longer know the hottest stars, though I certainly recognize familiar names from my world, the editing community. My husband and I have learned to compensate with lists and quips about "senior moments." I'm not as facile with the quizzes in the "In Flight" magazines, and I often find myself reading the same paragraph several times to process what I've just read.

What has not diminished, however, is a deepening appreciation for my life and the lives of those I love. My older sister Fran has always been in my life. We've shared every emotion. Who would have expected us to share in the publication of "Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz and The Caregiver" and begin this book tour together? Thank God we're friends! Now, let the adventure begin! Wait a minute....where did we put the airline tickets?

Saying Goodbye...

I'm off to California tomorrow to begin the book tour for "Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz and The Caregiver," and while it's exciting to begin this adventure and reconnect with old friends, it's also necessary to say 'goodbye," for a while, to my life in Woodstock.


Taking leave of my husband is a complicated matter. It's the longest we've been apart in the eighteen years we've been together, and it's also the arena where the practical and emotional collide. I'll be away for nearly a month, and he'll have to take over some of the many tasks I normally do to keep our life together running smoothly. There are lists to be made, bills to be paid, endless details to attend to. Then there's our vacation rental business. He's never been "hands on," but that's about to change -- at least for a while. And of course, I'll miss him.


I'll miss my many friends, our dog Lucy, my kitchen, the vegetable garden I'm entrusting to a neighbor, and the awkward, amusing wild turkey family that sometimes crosses our road. The delightful Woodstock Wednesday Farm Festival will begin in my absence, as will the Saturday Flea Market where odd little treasures can be unearthed.




Aside from Lucy the dog, I've grown fond of other creatures. I save my vegetable scraps for a lively flock of chickens who live nearby. Their eggs always delicious and never "uniform" like those found in stores, are special treats for guests staying at The Waterfall House. This year's flock includes hens that lay green eggs. I love feeding the chickens and chose to spend time with them on my birthday this past winter.



Then there's the cow and the calf and the horse. I like to take the long way home by the pasture so I can spend a few moments with these creatures. I first saw the calf a few days after her birth. She's grown. She's a little "Buddha" calf. When she's not nursing or exploring the meadow, she sits on her haunches gazing at the newness of her world. Her mother, a black beauty with a white blaze on her face, is never far from her, nor is Thunder, the wild mustang. A neighborhood woman who visits daily has only to call his name, and the horse comes running to eat the carrots she brings. He's generous with his big, sloppy kisses and loves to nuzzle the woman. Stopping to spend a few moments in this pastoral setting is a meditation.

The poppies will bloom, the calf will grow bigger, and I will have stories to tell, so please "stay tuned" and ride this adventure with me.

Barbara

How We Decide!

My husband has been reading the best-seller "How We Decide," by Jonah Lehrer, a book about decision making. Over breakfast, he told me why, according to scientific research, there is a gene which causes some people to make the same poor choices over and over again, not learning from their mistakes.

I don't think I fall into that unfortunate category, but I got to thinking about some of the choices I've made in my life, and why I made them. Some were clearly rational decisions, such as deciding to get a teaching credential after a year of poorly-paid, boring office work. On the other hand, leaving teaching after two years, falls into the emotional category. After my first year of teaching English in an inner-city high school in L.A. I took my first trip to Europe with two girl friends. We did it up right -- Eurail passes, numerous countries from England, to Portugal, Spain, France, Italy, Austria and Germany. Adventures galore.

In the fall, I returned to work and looked around the teachers' lounge at the veterans. They were worn-down, discouraged, complaining constantly about the students, principal, and parents! Did I want to be one of them in thirty years? Europe had shown me there was a big, exciting world outside of the teachers' lounge. I finished the year and quit.

Which decision was smarter? I believe both were good. I had the credentials and eventually became a substitute (no homework to correct) and knew I would always have something to fall back on. Quitting allowed me to try my wings at more adventurous jobs, such as the assistant to the general manager of the play, "Hair."

Looking back, most of my important decisions seem to have worked out for the best, however, there is one I wonder about. During that exploratory period I was offered a low level position in a literary agency. I was an English major; loved reading. I turned it down because the commute seemed inconvenient. Hard to believe in retrospect. I cannot help wondering what my life would have been had I taken the job. Would I have become a respected literary agent? I think I'd have made a good one. Maybe one of the good things about life is not knowing how things might have been.

I wonder if others also wonder about the fork in the road and consequences of the road not taken.

Fran

Being Invisible!

Some say women are "invisible" after forty. The only time it really bothers me is when I'm trying to get a salesperson to acknowledge me so I can complete my transaction and be on my way. Of course, it would be nice to have someone flirt with me occasionally, but even that's no great loss; I've got a good husband who sees past the wrinkles.

So what's so bad about being invisible? Not everyone can do it. I know it wouldn't work for my husband. He's the "peacock" and being the center of attention suits him, and it suits me, too, because it allows me to observe. To observe is one of the benefits of "invisibility." If you've spent time in a big city, you know what I mean. In an urban setting, nearly everyone thinks they're invisible.

My husband collects antiques. I collect "moments," little bits of sensory nuggets. Here's the last little bit garnered from a recent trip to the city. A young woman, walking while talking on her cell phone somewhere around 33rd and Broadway, said to her friend, "I told him to bring me something vegan. And you know what he brought me? A stuffed animal."

I could not have made that up. What a rich little nugget! Now, don't you agree there's something to be said for being "invisible?"

Barbara