When I wrote yesterday’s post, I was bummed. But some things happened later on to turn the day around and I thought I might share ‘em to balance things out a little.
First, my friend Cha Cha sent me this picture because she’d know I’d appreciate it:
How could I not cheer up, knowing that Richard Scarry was right and Gold Bug is real?*
We also went out to a late lunch (her) – early dinner (me) and commiserated about our day. Misery really does love company.
And cheese fries.
When I got home, there was a package waiting for me: Stephen Jay Schwartz, whose Murderati challenge I won a while back by guessing books by their first lines,** sent me not just the promised hardcover of Beat,*** his newest Hayden Glass book, but a copy of the previous book, too!
And he inscribed both.
Unexpected books, kind words, and the reminder of a victory . . . That’ll cure a Monday.
And then, of course, a bunch of you took the time to send me sympathy here and e-mails there and poems and one hilarious-in-retrospect story that trumps my brainfail all to hell but I had to promise never to tell anyone, ever, I mean it.^
Aaaaand to cap it all off, there was half a container of this left in the freezer, which was a minor miracle, let me tell you:
attacked the contents with a serving spoon partook of this miracle, I managed to rework more of that lost scene and fix a bit of Pigeon.
Not such a bad day after all . . .
*If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go get a Richard Scarry’s Big Book of Something and look for Gold Bug. Waldo is an upstart whippersnapper.
**No idea how I won, except most of the books are favorites of mine and I could see several of the titles across the room from me. I’m still kicking myself over missing the Raymond Chandler and the Sherlock Holmes story.
*** I love this book and loaned my original copy to a friend who says he can’t find it, though I sincerely doubt this. Doesn’t matter now—he can keep it. But he’s never getting his mitts on my copy of Boulevard.
^ So I won’t, don’t worry, but I’ve been giggling all day and won’t ever be able to look at a lemon again . . . You rock, and don’t forget it. And you’d better write that down yourself or I’ll swipe it.