Highlights

Last Friday night I had my book launch party in celebration of my novel’s publication and it was a smashing success, if I do say so myself.  You probably want to hear all about it, but really, there’s not much I can write other than that the cake balls were delicious

and the cheese from Antonelli’s was scrumptious

and I loved having so many well-wishers in one place and I loved reading and I loved having everyone applaud me because that’s just the way I am.  And if you couldn’t come, we missed you, but you can still buy my book and you should.

But that’s really all I have to say about the party itself and so instead I thought I’d give you some highlights from the past week, highlights which I found either amusing or stressful, and which you will likely find merely amusing because you didn’t experience these highlights yourself.

1.  Last week my husband boarded a plane for Los Angeles and he didn’t come back until midnight on Thursday.  And then he left for the office by 7 on Friday morning.  The day of my book launch party.  And even though my husband had offered to help me any way he could there was clearly nothing he could do from California, was there?  And so most of our phone conversations were tense and shrill and The Boy in the meantime made it clear that he was not happy to have to share his birthday party weekend with my book launch party.

2.  The Angel is no more.

Well, she’s alive somewhere, but she’s no longer working for me.  She’s no longer working for me because I could no longer afford her, not if I want my husband to quit his job and move to Belize with me at the end of the year.  Okay, not if I want to have money for groceries and to send The Boy to the best school in all the land.  How much are we paying the Angel? my husband asked a few weeks ago, and when I told him he looked slightly nauseous and he promised that from now on he would take over 50% of the Angel’s duties.  And for some reason I believed him and so I gently told the Angel that I loved her but we could no longer keep her because we want to move to Belize.  I mean, buy groceries.  And so last week, the week of my book launch party, the Angel did not come to my house to run errands and vacuum massive quantities of dog fur and fold laundry.

And my husband took off for sunny California.

So you can see why I was sounding tense and shrill.

3.  Because my husband wasn’t within state lines and because I no longer had an Angel and was therefore tense and shrill, I bought a cupcake at Quack’s when I took The Boy and his friend there after school on Wednesday.

But I didn’t eat it right away.  Sometimes I just like to know that the cupcake is there, you know, all day, waiting for me.  And usually, when I eat a cupcake, it’s not in the middle of the day when I’m trying to corral The Boy and his friends. Instead I eat my cupcake at night, around nine o’clock or so, when I’m finally able to relax.  Anyway, everyone knows that nighttime is the very best time to consume large quantities of sugar and butter, especially when you’re shopping for a bathing suit for your trip to Mexico, which is right around the corner.

So this particular night I saved my cupcake all day and then after The Boy was asleep I crawled into bed with my cupcake and my laptop and it was a little unwieldy having both a computer AND a cupcake on my lap and so this is what happened.

I had to scrape the icing off with a knife.

4.  I was hoping to maximize my time with my Colombian Princess, who drove up from Houston early Friday afternoon for my book launch party and left Saturday afternoon because she has that five-month-old baby she didn’t want to be away from for more than one night.  But my Colombian Princess, in typical Colombian Princess fashion, was chatting away on the phone on her drive up to Austin and so she missed my exit and ended way the hell up on 183 North somewhere.  And then when she finally arrived I was like, Baby, let’s go, because we only have ninety minutes or so for lunch and then we have to get our pedicure.  And my Colombian Princess said, Can I pump in your car?

And I paused for a moment, picturing my Colombian Princess pumping her breast milk in my shiny red convertible as we barreled through Austin and then I said, Uh, no.  And so she pumped in my office and then we got in my car and I told her we were going to Foodheads and she pouted because she wanted someone to serve her.  And so we went to 34th Street Cafe instead, even though they really only half-serve you at lunch.  And there my Colombian Princess stopped pouting long enough to eat pasta Primavera and drink a glass of wine and lament the fact that we did not have time to consume any dessert.

5.  Both my Colombian Princess and Nancy Goat came to my book launch party and everyone seemed to enjoy meeting them:  like characters from a play, someone said.  And Nancy Goat showed off her shoes

and told me I needed to buy the ones I hated when I went on my shopping excursion

but I’m not going to and if I could I’d take the shoes I did buy

back to Nordstrom because by 9:30 on Friday night my feet hurt so badly that I was on the verge of lopping them off with a butcher knife just to ease the pain. And finally I shrugged in the face of decorum and kicked off my shoes and then I hobbled around for a minute before I collapsed into a chair and that’s when my Colombian Princess, several glass of wine in, approached and offered to rub my feet.  And so I let her, without particularly caring what that looked like.

6.  Nancy Goat and my brother brought birthday presents to The Boy on Saturday afternoon, because this Thursday The Boy is turning eight.  And one of the presents they brought was a UT Longhorn football uniform, complete with helmet.

The Boy immediately donned the entire uniform and refused to take it off and when we returned from dinner late Saturday evening his babysitter told us that he wore his new uniform–minus the helmet–to bed.

Meanwhile, I’ve been posting articles on Facebook about the dangers of football.

7.  After dinner on Saturday night, as we were driving in my shiny red convertible, Nancy Goat tried to convince me that I would like Las Vegas, much the same way she has tried to convince me that I would like high heels if only I wore those little no-slide pads.  I don’t believe her in the least but she’s really very funny and there are actually few people who make me laugh as hard as Nancy Goat and she’s probably going to read this and be thrilled because, much like my Colombian Princess, she likes being mentioned in my blog.

My mother, on the other hand, has to bribe me to keep her out.

8.  Sunday morning we had a birthday party for The Boy.  And then my husband left for Chicago.  And even though he’s coming back later today I won’t be here because I’m going out with McGinn to celebrate my birthday, which is this coming Saturday.  Oh, I know, I know!  You should all send me birthday gifts!  Oh, that would be so fun.  Here, I’ll give you my address:  P.O. Box 49249, Austin, TX, 78765-9249.

Then you, too, can be a highlight in my blog!

Copyright © 2010  Jennifer Hritz  hritzontheedge  All Rights Reserved