Dar update: I gave her the book. I think I basically shoved it at her and said, "Hi, this is my book, and it's about a bad breakup (she'd talked about going through one in between songs), and you're in it!" She looked a little taken aback, but then saw the back cover. "Hey, cute dog!" she said. To which I say, thank God for Wendell, who has gotten me out of many an uncomfortable spot with his quivery good looks.

Meanwhile -- rejection letters from C. Michael Curtis on Mobylives.com! Yes, I've got some, too, from the fiction king of The Atlantic ("Dear Ms. Weiner, We were impressed with your narrative abilities but found that "Ride" ultimately failed to persuade."). I think pretty much everyone who's tried his or her hand at a short story in the 1990's and beyond has a little C. Michael missive tucked in a shoebox somewhere. Maybe we should set up a website and share.

Lastly: the Philadelphia Eagles have broken my heart. This is what happens when you marry a guy who loves sports -- you start paying attention in spite of yourself, because it matters to him. And when you start caring about sports in Philadelphia, it's pretty much axiomatic that you're going to get your heart broken.

Jen