My New Team: Meet Mr. Cat

Thank you very much for all the comments yesterday. I fasted, I slept, I looked to the stars for guidance and I have decided to support….

Davidson College: “Where Hoops and Books Coexist”. Even though they are located in you-know-where.

And if, by some strange chance, they get beat, I’ll support whoever beats them, and whoever beats them, etc.

(Really I just want to make muffins for my Hoyas. Maybe some chicken soup, too.)

One question: the Davidson mascot is a guy named Mr. Cat. (I did not make that up.) So am I supposed to yell “Go, you Mr. Cats!”? Are they Hep Cats? Ferocious Felines? They sure as heck beat the tar out of the Georgetown bulldog. Here is my first official taunt as a Davidson Cat: Hey, Barry! Your Jayhawks? Going down, man! Kitties rule over birdies every time!

(OK, that was a little lame, but I’m new at this.)

Wait – we have to get past Wisconsin before we sink our fangs into Kansas. Do kitties rule over badgers?

Tab closing time: check out author Anne Bustard’s Anneographies blog which highlights picture book biographies by the birthday of the central character. My hero, Sarah Josepha Hale is there on October 24th – so is the book I wrote about her! (I’m pretty sure I got the link from Cynthia Leitich Smith, another great Austinite.)

Want to know why people go into the high-paying, glamorous world of bookselling? Check out the ABA’s March Carnival of Bookselling.

I am officially back in the Cave of Revision (have been all week), so pardon me if the posts for the next couple of weeks get a little weird.

Moving from denial to acceptance

Sharp-eyed readers will notice that I have not been able to bring myself to post about my beloved Hoya’s loss to Davidson in the NCAA basketball tournament this weekend.

::chokes back sob::

That’s because it HURTS! They lost! My boys lost! Oh, they tried so hard!! And to Davidson? Where is Davidson, exactly?

Hang on…. I need a moment here…

::flings self on floor, pounds fists, scares dog::
::gathers self::

God, I hate reality sometimes.

OK. Georgetown lost. North Carolina continues to steamroll the opposition. (Yes, Sarah Dessen’s library gets a free copy of my new book when it comes out because, sigh, her team is clearly superior to mine this year. There. I said it.)

So here’s my question for you: which team do I cheer on now? I am teamless. Help!

Want to read it before anyone else?

It’s time for an update about our Team for Training run. My husband and I are running the Lake Placid Half Marathon on June 15th in honor of my cousin, Darcy Skinner, who is fighting non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. We joined the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training and decided to raise a total of $5,000 for the cause.

Thanks to readers and friends across the country, my part of the effort has reached its goal of $2,500. Now it’s time to support my Beloved Husband. He needs to raise $1485 to meet his goal.

Simon & Schuster has offered to help. Starting today, the next ten people who donate at least $20 to Scot’s run will receive a free Advanced Reading Copy of my next book, CHAINS. The book doesn’t come out until October. If you are one of the lucky donors, you’ll get your copy in June! (One rule – you must be at least 18 years old qualify.)

Donate right now! It’s so easy! Click! Click! Click!

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Thank you!

Spring on the tundra

Mary Pearson posted gorgeous spring photos yesterday.

Since it was, officially, Spring, i.e. the Vernal Equinox, i.e. Ostara, and I was well enough to get off the couch, I went in search of proof of the event in my own backyard.

I didn’t find much. Down south in Syracuse, they have grass and mud. Up here on the tundra?

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Not so much. This is the end of my driveway. The driveway itself is slushy mud, which is a good sign, but there is still snow on the roof of the house.

::stares at Mary’s pictures again::

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Here are my daffodils.

My Beloved Husband noticed my pout and scanned the horizon for signs of Spring. “Look!” he shouted, pointing to a small building on the farm down the hill.

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I squinted. Put on my glasses. Squinted some more.

“No,” I shook my head. “You can’t fool me. We are going to be trapped in winter for months. And I’ll get the flu again. And we’ll lose power. And… and… and…”

He stuffed me into my (winter) coat and drove me down the road for a closer look.

He was right. Spring really is here.

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Because that’s not smoke. That is the sweetest steam in the world pouring out of the sugar shack. The maple sap is running in the Forest. The farmers are collecting the sap and boiling – right inside that wonderful building – into maple syrup.

The Trees are wise. They know. It is Spring.

I feel much, much better now.