By the time you’re reading this post, I’m probably headed to New York where I’ll meet Patry Francis, author of The Liar’s Diary for an almost-week of book-related antics. Tuesday night, 7 pm, May 29th, Patry and I have an event at Borders at Park Ave. and 57th that will be attended by at least one person–my therapist. She’s already informed me she’ll be late–a good therapist always manages a patient’s expectations. It helps keep said patient off meds.
If you’re in the area, feel free to stop by to say hi. Patry and I can promise you much discussion about liars, diaries, anxiety and the color white. Not necessarily in that order.
Speaking about anxieties, did I mention I’m flying by myself for the first time in ten years? I’m actually less concerned for myself and more concerned for my mystery seat mate–who is probably hoping to catch up on some reading or have a lovely nap.
I’m hoping it’s a fatherly man, that he’s an offduty pilot, and that he did at least a few years of yogi training before deciding he could better serve society by developing a the world’s most successful conquer-your-fear-of-flying system. Which he’ll school me in the entire 55 minutes.
He can nap when he reaches his hotel.
I’ll recommend it.
The truth is–I’m planning to be calm. The flight is less than an hour. We climb up, plateau long enough for the snack cart to roll by, then we climb down. Gently.
I might even enjoy it. It’s happened before.
Besides, I’m bringing chocolate, books, my laptop and line edits for (new title, get ready for it) The One and Only Zoe Lama, magazines, and my lucky green scarf. But no carry-on. That would be too much. I plan to stuff all this in my purse.
Or ask my seatmate to carry some of it.
Like I said, he can nap later.
I can’t wait to meet him.