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Book Tour: Day 1

Monday, May 01, 2006
I am sure there are people who read this blog and swear I make half this stuff up. Sometimes I feel that way myself.

Today was the official start to my book tour for the brand new books: five radio interviews plus a TV shoot at my house. A pretty full day. A pretty weird day.

The day starts out with an email from my sister (the one with the new baby) saying some morons slashed three of the tires on her husband's car overnight, while it was parked in front of their house. [Note to said morons: The New Mom Fairy Godmother is watching over my sister, you tire-slashing idiots. Expect to slip in a puddle of breastmilk, trip over a baby swing, or to pay the karma piper big-time.]

The TV taping goes well. Then the weird-o-meter kicks into overdrive.

The eight-year-old's school phones to say that his eyes are itchy and they need me to come and get him. I tell the school I'll come and pick him up as soon as I get a gap between back-to-back radio interviews. (What was that we were saying about Mother Guilt?)

I keep smelling something burning outside. I conclude that someone must be burning wood because there's a definite woody smell to the smoke.

Hmmm.

I ask one of the teenagers to help me check to see if the house is on fire.

It's not.

One of the bushes in the garden is smouldering away.

It takes me a while to put the pieces together, but then I remember that one of the members of the TV crew took a smoke break out front right before we started our shoot.

We start dousing the fire with tea kettles of water. (We couldn't find the bucket.)

I use a snow shovel to dig up part of the bush. It's smouldering below ground, right down into the roots. Finally, we manage to extinguish the fire.

My friend Cyndie -- who dropped by for a nice relaxing cup of tea because we haven't had a visit in ages -- hops in my vehicle with me and we start heading across town to pick up the eight-year-old. Halfway across town, we witness a freak accident. A cyclist and a car are involved in a hit-and-run -- but it's the cyclist who damages the car and then flees the scene of the accident. (I give my business card to the driver of the car, in case she needs a witness. I kind of suspect her auto insurance company may have a hard time believing her story.)

I arrive back home after picking up the eight year old (whose eyes weren't itchy at all, by the time I got to the school) and there's another email from my sister. She almost ran over a wild turkey en route to the store to try to pick up replacement tires for her car. I tell her that she's lucky she missed the turkey. One time I hit a mallard duck and it got stuck under the windshield wiper on my old van and died there. For weeks afterwards, other mallard ducks kept showing up at my house, as if they were a posse of grieving relatives (or maybe the duck mafia) looking for answers, and maybe revenge.

So how was your day?

| posted by Ann D @ 9:13 PM