On Parties, Wings, and Book Supply

When I was little I had a doll that looked just like this fabulous child.  I named her Maria.  She had lovely smooth bangs.  I remain in love with her lovely, smooth bangs.

I discovered this gem of a little girl a few weeks ago, during my travels to Jim Thorpe.  It wasn't Halloween yet, but she was dressed to fly.

Later this evening, I'll be celebrating the debut of You Are My Only at the Radnor Memorial Library with friends from most corners of my life. Writers, dancers, neighbors, friends, St. John's-ers, Zumba-ists, goddesses and gods of goodness, Pam Sedor, Elizabeth Mosier.  It's a bit cloudy out there, but I'm feeling sunny inside.  That's what gatherings of friends—for any occasion—do.

Today dear Florinda, who stood at my side at the BEA as my own personal and quite talented publicist, stands beside me again, with her words about You Are My Only, which she recently read.  What an amazing support she has been through all of this.  Thank you, Miss Florinda.  I don't know what I'd do without you.

Today, too, I want to thank The Eclectic Reader for luring me to her site with the promise that she did indeed like the book.  (I smiled.)  I love the details she has called out.  I am so grateful for her words. 

Finally, today, I want to thank all of you who have reached out to me about the unfortunate situation regarding the actual supply of You Are My Only books.  I wish that Amazon's temporarily out of stock signal early Tuesday morning had indeed been but truly temporary, and I am sorry, too—so sorry—to hear of delays at independent bookstores.  I am so grateful to all of you who had faith in this book from the very first, and who rallied so magnificently behind it.  I can only assure you that everything that can be done to remedy the situation is now being done. 

But today is what counts.  This very moment.  I'm going to go find myself a purple and green winged dress.  I am going to bake some cookies.  I will make no promises about my bangs.