I went to Toronto for Book Expo Canada.

I left my passport on the plane.

I suck.

And, to think, they let me have a baby!

Anyhow. Lucy is now saying something that sounds a lot like "book," while pointing insistently at BUT NOT THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. She also plays peek-a-boo, except she'll leave one eye mostly uncovered, as if she's worried about us taking off while she's not looking. And when you say "Lucy, touch your toes!" she'll clap her hands.

She's a genius, I tells ya! A genius!

The lesions have healed nicely -- thanks for asking -- which means that Adam can no longer leave the house in the morning and call over his shoulder, "Have a wonderful day, and don't pick your lesions!"

(Some interviewer somewhere once asked me what the best piece of advice I ever got was, and all I could think of was my Mom saying, "Don't pick it!" Which I'm sure is not the kind of thing the interviewer had in mind.)

I'm tying up loose ends here in preparation to our sojourn to Cape Cod -- whoo-hoo! Not much writing going on. Just lots of logistical ducks-in-a-row stuff in preparation for a summer of writing and relaxation, and a fourteen-city tour for LITTLE EARTHQUAKES this fall (I'll post dates and locations as soon as I have them).

Meanwhile, in the wake of Adam's tenth college reunion, I have a dream.

My dream is that some day I will donate lots of money to my college, with the stipuation that they name a dorm after me.


And you just know the kids would say it wrong. Weener.

"Yeah, I'm living in Weener this year."

"I got the biggest room in Weener."

"There's going to be a HUGE Weener party on Friday night!"

It's good to have dreams.