Man, I’ve got some kick-ass friends. I’m getting pics of people proudly holding up their copies from all quarters, and (with their permission), I’d like to share a few.
I’m also pretty psyched to announce I’ll be signing copies of LAST CHANCE LLAMA RANCH at St. John’s College, my alma mater, in Annapolis during Homecoming Weekend Saturday Sept. 26th from 3:30 – 5:30pm, where I hope to see lots more friendly faces!
Today I’m feeling happy. Just happy. LAST CHANCE LLAMA RANCH is in copyedits and off my plate for now. I’m working on a new idea–it’s got interstellar bimbos, and comic books, and feminist themes. My friends are by my side and the sun’s out, shining as it does only in Santa Fe. I’m eating stale chocolate cake at Santa Fe Baking Co. and us gals are talking about which is better, Star Trek Voyager or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One can’t ask for much more (except maybe cake that isn’t stale).
Soon enough I’ll be leaving Santa Fe, and there’s real grief when I think about it. Fear, too. Will I come to regret this? Was everything just about to gel for me here, and I’m ‘quitting before the miracle’? I’ve no way of knowing. I only know it felt like time to move on, and so that’s what I’m doing. After a lunatic year of loss and grief and moments of passion I never expected, I need to roll forward instead of drifting in their wake and losing all momentum.
I think I’m ready, and I know I’m grateful for it all.
Today marks four years since my mother died. I’d planned to spend it cooking and writing, alone in my house. Oh, and did I mention moping?
My writing buddies had other plans.
I still cooked – matzo ball soup and home-baked challah, since it’s the Jewish holidays and these were my mom’s favorite comfort foods – but I wasn’t alone.
“Make me a pot of coffee and I’ll vacuum your place,” Pam said, after I protested I couldn’t have guests because of the cat fur tumbleweeds.
“I’ll bring chocolate and snacks,” said Rebecca, and boy did she ever. (Trader Joe’s has the best EVERYTHING, and I’m pretty sure she emptied the shelves.)
And before I knew it, the glum, grim day I’d expected turned into a party of dough punching, chocolate-almond munching, and writing at the kitchen table with some of my very favorite Santa Fe friends. A day of sorrow turned into one of gratitude, and laughs, and productivity. A day that reminds me life goes on, and brings with it unexpected joys.
I get by with a little help from my friends.
Hilary Fields 