We had dinner tonight with two other couples.  One couple will be leaving Thursday for a big adventure: they are going to Japan for (at least) one year to teach English.  I had a friend do this after he graduated college (about the same age as these two now).  My friend sold or gave away almost everything he owned to go—it was the cheapest solution of what to do with the stuff he wasn’t bringing with him.  I ended up with a lot of his books (sssh, I’d hate for him to ask for them back these many years later).

That friend of mine also introduced me to classical Japanese writers, with Kawabata and Tanizaki (I love, love, love The Makioka Sisters) becoming my two favorites.  Tonight, we talked about these writers.  And about Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude (it is now at the top of my list of books to read).  And about Tolstoy and Dostoevsky (I really, really don’t like classic Russian literature!), and even a word about Hemingway and Faulkner.

It was such a delightful meal.  I hadn’t thought of those Japanese writers in years.  Not like I thought of them tonight.  And those of us there not leaving for Japan in two days, we couldn’t help but feel the excitement, the anticipation, that the two leaving were feeling: its electric current danced around our table like another member of our party.  Oh, youth!  To be 23 with the world at one’s feet!  To have a lifetime of unknown tomorrows in unknown countries (they plan to return to America via India, China, and other Eastern Asian countries).  Ah!

It seemed a sign when my fortune cookie read, “You are a lover of words, someday you should write a book.”  But that sign proved not to be too auspicious when another at the table read us his fortune, “You are a lover of words, someday you should write a book.”

And so it was that we stepped into the damp evening air.  Thoughts ran through my head of the Japanese books I would recommend to our young friends as they begin their big Asian adventure.  Then I saw that I had spit-up cookies dried on my shirt from Sun drooling on me earlier in the day when she was convinced she could fit an entire box of cookies in her mouth (she cannot) and having a mouth too full to chew, her saliva dissolved said cookies out of her oozing mouth and onto me.

If only the mastering of the keyboard, the typing of letters, were all there was to writing well.  I have ideas and thoughts that run through my mind when I am away from a computer (or even pen and paper).  And often, when I clear away everything and crack my knuckles and get serious about writing, I find I have nothing.

Tonight, I have turned off the TV, left all rooms that may distract me, and am focused on writing.  I am sitting in the dark on my back porch.  A mild breeze is blowing and the only sounds I hear are cicadas, distant trains, wind in the leaves, and the whir of air conditioners.

I read for the words—the stringing together of everyday words in a way that is beautiful and thoughtful and inspiring.  Sometimes I am overwhelmed with a writer’s ability to WRITE.  Some writers are good at storytelling, others are good at the stringing together of the words.  The genius is the one that can do both.

I am reading two books right now—Pat Conroy’s “Beach Music,” and Alan Moore’s “Watchmen.” To be fair, I just finished Conroy’s prologue and am further in to Watchmen.  Contrary to the fact that I LOVE attending the International Comic Convention every year and am somewhat well versed with comics (due to my hubby), I am not a huge comics fan.  The main reason is that I tend to prefer character development than action.  And a lot of the comics—at least the superhero genre—is action packed.

There are several graphic novels I have read that I consider some amazingly good reads, and not just for the comic crowd.  And Watchmen is quickly falling into that category, even with its hooded avengers.  And the reason for this is simple: The writing is strong and well crafted.  The story, although dated in that it involves the U.S.’s cold war with the Soviets, is timeless.  You could just as easily swap Iraq for the USSR and the story would be the same—our government will always have some political enemy that it behooves it to scare its people (you and me) by highlighting our differing cultures to make the other one ungodly and evil.

But I digress.

The writing.  Alan Moore’s writing is pretty incredible.  And he’s written things you know and you just may not have ever thought of them as starting as comics—like “V for Vendetta” or “From Hell.”  But I am not here to write his biography or inform you of the great things he’s written.  I will leave you with one line from Watchmen, just one.  It is writing like this that inspires me.  It also unnerves me because I could never string everyday words together so beautifully as these.

The word “cancer” runs through the audience on a firecracker string of anxious whispers.

So I know I can’t stop gushing about the San Diego ComicCon.  I was so excited to being going and each day I looked forward to its attendance.  See, here’s the deal.  You think you KNOW what the Con is all about, don’t you?  Superman and Batman and Green Lantern and nerds dressed like Star Wars and other beloved comic characters.  Ok, sure the Con has that. In droves. But it has SO MUCH MORE.  Like what, Nola? you ask.

Well, I don’t go for the superheros so much or even the sneak peeks to upcoming comic book- (or graphic novel-) turned movie.  Sure, I like a lot of those movies but no more than the next gal.  No, what I go for is the art. Yes, art.  Not all of the art is comics.  Many of these artists do lots of other styles of art.  And going to the Con can get you in on the newest stuff these folks are doing AND you can get your piece signed and even personalized.  Further, many of they folks also write and/or illustrate books not in the comic format.  And so you can buy those too.

Enough of me telling you about it.  Let me show you.  My absolute favorite booth at the Con was the whimsical and surreal Artist Sisters.  I showed you their booth in my earlier ComicCon post:

Artist Sisters are—can you guess?—sisters that are artists.  They each have a different look but each one’s work definitely compliments the other.  Two years ago, I bought a small print of C.J. Metzger’s, and on Day One this year I bought an original mixed media piece from her sister, Miss Mindy.

C.J. Metzger print, “Modesty.”

Miss Mindy’s “Designer Fish.”

In addition to their fabulous art, these two talents also write and illustrate children’s books.  So on Day Three, I bought their box set, one book by each sister (the box is at the bottom of the pic):

Each book is signed by the author and personalized, in this case to Sun.  Sun LOVES her new books. She actually sat quietly on my lap last night as I read one of them to her.

Day Four, we returned YET AGAIN to their booth and bought a second box set for a certain friend’s little girl for Christmas.  I am pretty certain mother and daughter are going to love it!

My only regret? I should have bought more from them!  Now I have to wait a whole year to lay my eyes on their work again to make more selections.

And I am confident the sisters work next year will not disappoint.  How will I ever have the patience to wait?

This was written in 2006 upon my return from that year’s International Comic Convention.

2006 was my first ComicCon. Let me say straight away that I was not disappointed.  I didn’t give much thought to what I expected, but looking back I realized that I expected a Star Trek-esque thing to be going on.  I thought I’d stand out for not being in costume; I did not stand out.  In fact, being one of something like 125,000 attendees, it is hard to stand out.  But one thing did stand out for me: Batton Lash’s “Tales of Supernatural Law.”

Here’s what happened.

ComicCon 2006 had 55 rows of exhibitors, and each row was divided into 4 sections.  Each section, in turn, had maybe 8 exhibitors.  That makes for over 1,500 booths in an area of 460,000 square feet.  The first walk through the Con lasted 3 hours, and we had seen no more than a third of it, and much of that, we discovered, was overlooked when we spent our second day there.

Wedged between one of the main entrances and DC Comics’ huge space was a small booth that CS and I kept passing.  It had a sign that read: “Supernatural Law.”  You have to understand that I am that annoying person in the movie theater that sighs heavily and keeps repeating “yeah, right!” during legal thrillers.  I am an attorney.  But I am not the suing kind of attorney.  So even if the legal technicalities are off, I may not notice more than the non-attorney sitting next to me.  But when the theories of law are so far-fetched, my bubbled suspension of disbelief bursts, and there is no putting it back together.  So instead of suffering through these types of movies (and novels and TV shows and comics), I usually just skip them.  And so naturally, when I saw “Supernatural Law” with the tag line “Beware the Creatures of the Night–they have lawyers!” we walked on by and by and by.

On the fourth or fifth walk-by, we had by then stopped at every other booth at least once, and it seemed that, for the sake of completeness if nothing else, we should stop here, too.  Batton Lash, the writer and artist, was signing his books.  He was very personable and, well, normal.  To his credit, he is not a lawyer.  We bought one of his trade paperbacks, had him sign it, and walked back to the hotel.

As we rested before going out to dinner, I picked up “Tales of Supernatural Law” and began reading.  This is the deal: It isn’t for lawyers.  It isn’t (really) about the law.  It is a monster book.  Good ole classic creatures.  Ed Wood monsters.  And these monsters have troubles, troubles the kind a lawyer can help with.  But the legal end of things is not far-fetched.  I mean, the far-fetched part is that monsters exist, not that if they did exist they’d have legal problems.  Why should monsters be so lucky as to avoid legal woes?  So if you can go along with the premise that monsters can exist, then the well done legal twist will not be a distraction; in fact, it is quite refreshing.  What I am saying is that I was pleasantly surprised that this trade paperback did not cause my bubbled suspension of disbelief to burst.  And that, my friends, is saying a lot.

What “Supernatural Law” has is Dracula hiring Wolff and Byrd, counselors of the macabre, to sue for the use of his name without proper compensation; a suit for damages caused by a cursed  monkey’s paw; a hexed super model; grave robbing; haunted houses; ghosts; and even a touch of romance.  For example, the first monster we meet is Sodd–he had an accident with some toxic waste and lightening and was mutated into a mangled mass of tree limbs.  During the change, he did damage to public property and was arrested.  He hires Wolff and Byrd to defend him.  Their first move is to get him out on bail.  The grounds?  Sodd’s roots (pun very much intended) in the community.  You don’t need to be Sandra Day O’Connor to get this legalese.  But Batton does have a licensed attorney as a consultant, and so he gets the “legal stuff” right.

Wolff and Byrd’s NYC offices reminded me of Jack Nicholson’s P.I. office in “Chinatown” or maybe Sam Spade’s.  Shadowy figures crossing over the etched glass door.  Batton told us the next day that he had in mind the one- and two-man ambulance chasing law firms in Brooklyn he was familiar with in his former neighborhood.  (Batton now lives in San Diego, being one of the many men that lost the long-distance romance battle over who would move).

That night, we did manage to enjoy a nice meal with friends and the milder San Diego weather.  But as soon as we were back in the hotel, I was reading again, and more again in the morning.  With just under 200 pages, “Tales of Supernatural Law” is chuck full of good, er, tales. So if you are in the mood for a romp of classic monsters and creatures with a new twist, this trade paperback is for you!

Tomorrow we return to San Diego for my second attendance of ComicCon.  I will do my best to get good pics and stories for interesting posts whilest away.  We will even get Sun out in the California sun!  Oh, the fun we will have!

CS had today off. Oh, what to do? How not to waste the day? I read the newspaper and scanned what events were going on today.  There was a book sale at one of the libraries.  That’s always a good thing to me.  Then there was a party for the streetcar beginning the route from Carrollton to St. Charles Avenue again post-Katrina.  Well, I am all about streetcars these days.

But then my eye settled on a third event.  A book reading at New Orleans Main Library.  The book was “Cooling the South: The Block Ice Era, 1875-1975,” by Elli Morris.  See, my family, way back when, was a very major player in the New Orleans block ice business.  A great-great-great uncle made a fortune in the business and sold it just before the Stock Market Crash of 1929.  And his line of the family sailed through the Great Depression flush with cash.  My great-great-grandfather had a small piece of this family business and my great-grandfather worked in the business, too, until it was sold.

So, with my curiosity piqued, we were off.  Getting off the elevator on the Main Library’s third floor brought me back in time to the countless hours I spent there researching my family.  How coincidental that that research had brought me back where I started for a book reading.

Inside the auditorium, there were few people.  Elli Morris talked for about 45 minutes.  Her family owned the Morris Ice Company in Jackson, Mississippi.  She grew up around all the machinery.  Her photographer’s eye drew her to the icehouse over and over.  Their icehouse is no longer working (like so many other block ice plants) but it is still every bit in tact.  She lived there for a year in 2001.  And explored and photographed.

Then she researched and learned that her family played a role in a much bigger piece of southern, even American, history.  And so her little story about her family’s business mushroomed into a much bigger project.  Her book is the result of her hard work.

She talked about the inventor of the first ice machine and ice deliverymen, and the ice trucks that were pulled by mules.  She explained that some trucks did not have a spot in the front for a driver; that the mule knew the route and didn’t need to be steered.  And she talked about the switch to refrigerators and the customers who returned their refrigerators because they were too noisy!

She intimated to the decline of the block ice industry, but “didn’t want to give away” the end of her tale.

Morris then opened the room for Q&A and then signed and sold her books and blank cards of her beautiful photographs.  Her book is wonderful–it is hardcover and filled with lovely photographs along with her thoroughly researched story.  The cover of her book shows a block of ice “feathering” as it freezes from the outside in.

Elli Morris will be in the New Orleans area for about a week and then she is moving on to other parts of the country with her book tour.  This is something that is truly fascinating, and hearing her tell of her story and read from it was just a delight.  Click on her site here and check out her schedule.  You won’t be disappointed.

I have been tagged by Ivy Brown. I am supposed to open the book I am currently reading and turn to page 123. Then find the 5th sentence and post the next 3 sentences.

As usual, this meme doesn’t blow my skirt up. So to compromise, I will instead give my top ten list of favorite books. And because “NOLA” is part of my site’s name, I will limit it to books about, authors from, or books set in New Orleans. Here goes:

1. “A Confederacy of Dunces” by John Kennedy Toole. This is the quintessential NOLA read. If you did not read, or were not assigned to read, this book in college, go buy it now. No, really, I’ll wait… Got it? Good. I picked this up just the other day to re-read (for about the third time). It just gets better each read. I am all of 10 pages in and have laughed aloud numerous times. Toole was masterful at describing New Orleans and its denizens.
2. “In the Land of Cocktails” by Ti Adelaie Martin and Lally Brennan. This is a new book that I have now had time to enjoy. You can read more about this book here. The only caveat is that this book will definitely leave you thirsty.
3. “Lives of the Saints” by Nancy Lemann. This is a great little find. I read it years ago and still remember Lemann’s description of Claude, who broke the narrator’s heart “into a million pieces on the floor.” Lemann made me seek out several other “Voices of the South” authors. None disappointed.
4. “Gumbo Ya-Ya: A Collection of Louisiana Folk Tales.” This is new to my library, but I am enjoying the stories it holds. At this stage in its life (it was originally published in 1945), this book is a must-have reference for anyone serious about Louisiana culture. Plus, it’s got cool hexes and charms you can use to cure what ails ya!
5. “Frenchmen, Desire, Good Children: And Other Streets of New Orleans.” Another oldie but goodie. This one gives the history behind the (often-changing) NOLA street names. Like Canal Street was supposed to be an actual canal. Or Berlin Street was changed to General Pershing during World War I because it was “too German.”
6. “The Lost German Slave Girl: The Extraordinary True Story of the Slave Sally Miller and Her Fight for Freedom in Old New Orleans.” This is truly an amazing read. From the historical aspect of the history of slavery in the South to the immigration of Germans to New Orleans. A true courtroom drama that would not be believed as fiction.
7. “French Quarter Fiction: The Newest Stories of America’s Oldest Bohemia.” This is a collection of writers writing in and about the French Quarter. Most are current authors, but some are newly discovered or newly published works of great writers. I generally do not like short stories; I tend to like long stories I can really get absorbed in. But because these are all set in the Quarter, they sort of read like one work–as though you are going from room to room, courtyard to courtyard, to hear stories told. A great summer read.
8. “A Streetcar Named Desire. ” I know this is a play, but really, what list of NOLA works would be complete without Tennessee Williams’ classic? And there’s good reason this is a classic. It’s haunting and alive and lusty and depraved, just like NOLA.
9. “The Awakening” by Kate Chopin. This was written in 1899 and was scandalous. It deals with issues of race and sexuality and a woman finding herself and the tragedy that ensued. Because it was 1899. And Louisiana.
10. “Managing Ignatius: The Lunacy of Lucky Dogs and Life in New Orleans.” I admit that I haven’t yet read this one. It is top on my “to read” list. It was recently discussed on the Twitter tube and it has been one that I want to read. It is written by a man who spent 20 years managing the famous “Lucky Dog company, whose vendors sell wienies out of the seven-foot-long hot dog-shaped carts that can be found on almost any street corner in New Orleans’ French Quarter.”

So get reading! What’s your favorite NOLA book? Or even non-NOLA book? I am always looking for a good book to read!

In the Times-Picayune today, there was not less than three mentions of the Friends of the Jefferson Parish Library semi-annual Book Sale out at Pontchartrain Center. I am a sucker for book deals and have found many oddities at this sale in the past. So, after Sun took the longest nap ever, we headed out.

I had never caught this sale on its first day; in the old days, I worked five days a week. But post-Sun, I now have Thursdays to DO THINGS. So, with no plans on the calendar, we had the freedom to read about something in the morning paper and hit it in the afternoon.

At this sale, I gravitate to the local interest area. Not the romance novels nor fiction. Not the geography section (although I have an odd fascination for maps) nor the self-help. Not horror nor mystery nor health nor Americana nor biography nor children’s books. No; I am there to see what oddball books they have on Louisiana, and New Orleans in particular.

This sale scratched my itch. I walked away with seven books and spent a whopping $22. And had I held off on a streetcar book (”The Saint Charles Streetcar — or the history of The New Orleans and Carrollton Railroad,” by James Gilbeau), I’d have spent only $10. But with our new streetcar site, I felt I needed to get educated. It’s research; I can write that one off on my taxes next year.

This year, other than the streetcar book, I bombed at the local interest section. But I thought outside the box and ended up in the cookbook section and found these little gems:

1. “The Art of Cooking with Spirits,” by Elise Landauer Meyer (1964), hardback with dustcover signed by the author, $2. This author was a New Orleanian and it reminded me too much of Tuesday’s purchase of “In the Land of Cocktails” for me to pass up.
2. “A Cook’s Quiz” by Antoinette & Francois Pope (1952), hardcover with dustcover, $2. This is a book that asks and answers cooking questions, like Do eggs contain vitamins? and What temperature is simmering? and When is water really boiling? and How can hard marshmallows be softened? My question, how could I resist? I couldn’t.
3. “52 Fridays, Meatless Menus and Recipes” by Ethel M. Keating (1957), hardcover (no dustcover), $1. This one was a misfire. I thought it was going to be a Louisiana Lenten cookbook. It isn’t; it’s written by a mid-westerner! Any mid-westerner interested in this? Leave a comment and if more than two want it, well then, the best comment wins.
4. “The New Orleans Eat Book, Facts & Opinions on Dining Out in America’s Best Eating City,” by Tom Fitzmorris (1991), signed and dated by the author, paperback, $1.50. although out of date, I like books that review restaurants and I like Fitzmorris (I know not everyone does) and I like reading about NOLA places. Plus, there are “facts and opinions” that go beyond restaurants.
5. “The New Orleans Underground Gourmet, Where to find great meals in the city and environs for less than $3.75 and as little as 50¢,” by Richard H. Collin (1973), paperback, coincidentally, 50¢. This one, this one. Where to begin? On eating at a new restaurant in New Orleans Collin says, “So many new restaurants open constantly in this protean eating city that trying new and unknown restaurants is a valid sport.” Of a restaurant he was underwhelmed with, “The food here isn’t that bad (it’s not particularly good either), but it is impossible to eat anything in what must be the most foul-smelling restaurant in the city.” Of Galatoire’s, he has much to say. His description of Galatoire’s is spot-on:
   

   Galatoire’s is one of New Orleans’ incomparable restaurants. Over the years people have argued about whether Galatoire’s was the best restaurant in North America. For many Orleanians and visitors it is the only restaurant in North America. One either loves or detests the Galatoire’s dining room, one large mirrored room. To some it resembles a rather large and not particularly fancy barbershop; to others it is a holy temple where great food is enshrined.

   Collin recommends Galatoire’s fish and shellfish: “if you must have meat or chicken, go elsewhere,” but advises that “[t]his has never been a great place for liquor or wine.” Well, on that last point, we will have to disagree. I’d like to think that in 35 years, Galatoire’s has honed their cocktail skills. The point: this book was SO WORTH its 50¢.

I also picked up The Dickens Digest for $3 (have you learned yet that I adore 1850s British Victorian novels? Because I do). The Friends of Jefferson Parish Library will continue to put fresh books on the tables as room is made for them, so even going over the weekend may score good finds. Hmmm. I may just need to make another trip out there on Saturday.

Yesterday, I drove out to get satsumas for Christy over at Misplaced Southern Belle. I ended up at DeWitt’s Fruit and Vegetable Shed on River Road (this stand has been at this location for over 50 years). I have driven past it many, many times and never stopped. So, thanks, Christy, for giving me an excuse to visit this NOLA stronghold.

Unfortunately for Christy, the clerk informed me that satsuma season ended two weeks ago. Well, damn. So the clerk sold me on some Louisiana seedless oranges instead. It was that or navel oranges and he assured me the seedless ones were sweeter. So I got two sacs of oranges (five oranges per sac), and some bananas and pears and one avocado for Sun. I ate one of the oranges after dinner and was surprised to find, yes, you guessed it, SEEDS. CS explained that “seedless” doesn’t mean “without seeds” it means “less seeds.” What kind of marketing is THAT?

I also made a trip to the bookstore to buy, “In the Land of Cocktails: Recipes and Adventures from the Cocktail Chicks.”

Except all I could remember was it was called something about drinking in New Orleans and something something “Chicks.” Pete had sent me this article from The Times-Picayune on the book on Monday. I was sold after reading that the Chicks (cousins Ti Adelaide Martin and Lally Brennan of the famous restaurant Brennan family) do not use the word “hangover” but rather the more civilized expression of “the vapors,” and they gave the advice never to mix grapes with grain.

As I approached the information desk at the book store, I overheard an older woman asking about a brand new book on mixology. I knew we were on the same hunt. She couldn’t remember the name of the book either (although she at least remembered the authors names). So as the clerk walked us both to the NOLA section of the bookstore, I mumbled to the woman, “We’re something, huh? Between the two of us we know it’s a book on booze with the word “chicks” in the title!” She responded to me in a heavy southern accent, “Oh, no. Ti and I have known each utha fawevah. I have comp’ny comin’ and I whant to get a few copies faw mah frienz.”

We arrived at the table and the clerk pointed to the book. I picked it up as the woman said, “That’s not it” (she didn’t see the “Chicks” part in the title). I recognized the cover from looking at it online, and, seeing the short stack of books, I wasn’t going to lose getting one for this woman’s “frienz.” Being polite, however, I assured her it was the right book. She finally saw that, in fact, it was and grabbed the rest in the stack.

I then went to a coffeehouse to meet Penelope and CS. As I waited for them, I flipped through the book. Straight away, I was hooked. Here’s their dedication:

For bartenders everywhere who care about well-made cocktails.

We also want to dedicate this book to our beloved city of New Orleans. New Orleanians have shown a courage and resilience even we did not know existed beneath your head-strong joie de vivre. We wouldn’t trade being of and from New Orleans for any other location on earth. This one is for you.

And if that’s not enough for you (and it was for me!), this book offers so much. It’s got a good look (the illustrations are done by Tim Trapolin), it celebrates New Orleans living, and, best of all, it gives recipes so you can properly mix for yourself (and friends) such famous drinks as the Sazerac, an Old-Fashioned, a Sidecar, and even a Grasshopper (and oh so many more cocktails). No vodka and tonics in this book. Heck, the book even offers a cure for “the vapors.”

So buy a copy of the book and get your shakers and swizzle sticks out and start mixing. And remember to raise a glass and toast New Orleans!

I am finally beginning to feel better. My headaches are less, the ringing in my ears is gone, and I have only been through about a fifth of a box of tissues today. And the upswing of having The Death is that I think I’ve lost a few pounds!! So to celebrate, we went out to dinner! Yay!

After dinner we went to the book store and bought Sun a couple of books–a Gossie book (I love that little gossling!) and Olivia (that pig is darn cute, too). Sun received a Gossie book from my sister some time ago and so I got a second one ’cause I liked the first so much. My friends that were recently in town with their 2 year old really liked Olivia, so we picked that one up too.

Nothing like a bout of The Death to make me appreciate good health and my job–you know, the one away from home. I have spent an awful lot of time in my house this past week, too sick to work or dine with friends or meet one new online friend (whose medical problems make my measly bout with The Death seem like a pleasant walk in the park).

I still have very little appetite and no taste for coffee–two sure signs I am not feeling all that well. However, I am very appreciative to be on the mend and have things in the near future in which to look forward.

Sunday afternoon, the hubs and I went to Borders for me to get a new book. I have now finished “The Good Earth” (thanks for the recommendation, Mamma Loves) and “The Namesake” and could not get excited about “Dr. Mary’s Monkey” (sorry, Former Secretary). While at Borders, I saw a display for a writer of knitting books. I thought at first that it was a patterns book, but sat down and flipped through it anyway. It is a book about the humor in knitting.

Now, not to overstate the point, I am a nerd. I read a lot, am a tax attorney, and love yoga and knitting. And married a computer geek. Even so, I never found all that much humor in knitting — what with the cursing when things go awry (and for me, that is all too often), the constant counting, and the reading of patterns. But, oh, was I wrong! Ms. McPhee is one hell of a writer and her muse just happens to be knitting. And it is sad that only knitters will enjoy her writing because she deserves a bigger audience. (On the other hand, McPhee is a best-selling author selling to the multitudes of knitters in the world).

Well, upon closer inspection of the rack that displayed her books, I noticed that she was coming to the store the next day for a signing. Once I read half of her first book (aptly titled “Yarn Harlot”–isn’t that great?!) Sunday night, I kept thinking of her signing throughout an otherwise rough Monday. So I decided to head back to Borders and check it out.

The hubs and I (along with Sun) arrived a wee bit late. Turns out McPhee was also giving a lecture. Well, within no time, I was laughing aloud and feeling the tension from the day wear away. I learned a lot (not about knitting but about how many knitters there are in the world and how smart we are and how much disposable money we have!). Sadly, I bolted out early when I heard Sun crying from the music department. I did not get my books signed.

Today, McPhee wrote about her recent visit to New Orleans. And it is spot on. I am not the least bit surprised that she was astute enough to capture our spirit in such a short period of time. And like Monday night, I learned from McPhee. This time it was about the “bottle tree.” I have never heard of this nor believe I’ve ever seen one. Too bad for me. I will now be on the look-out for one.

So although I failed to get McPhee’s signature, I got a lot from her lecture and her blog. And for that, I am grateful indeed. And inspired to finish my afghan.