I’m sitting in the apartment with Bob, and we’ve both got computers going. It’s sad really. Every now and then he snickers and reads something to me. About nuns.

We walked through the village and down into Soho to the Apple store because he woke up and stepped on his power cord and it wouldn’t work any more. Bob without a computer is not a pretty thought. Most of the way we argued about this movie he’d just seen which he insisted was called Heaven Can Have Her. I said, “No, I know that movie, it was Leave Her To Heaven, it’s a quote from Hamlet.” He told me I was wrong. For miles, he told me I was wrong. Then we got back and I checked the IMDB and said, “Leave Her To Heaven.” He said, “That’s what I said.” Now he’s looking up nuns on the internet because he wants the heroine of the solo book he’s working on to be a nun. (Some of you may remember Abigail from the old He Wrote She Wrote blog.) He’s also suggesting that I should be a nun. Or teach at a convent school. Or . . . well, it depends on what Google entry he’s reading.

I called my doc this morning, and she told me I had a tetanus shot in Nov. 2004, so I’m good with the lockjaw problem. In fact I walked all over with Bob who complained the entire time that his feet were going to hurt tomorrow. I finally said, “Hey, I’m the one with the hole in my foot.” He said, “I know, I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.” I said, “It hurts, I’m being brave.” He said, “Uh huh.” Then he made fun of me because I wouldn’t cross against the light. Then two blocks later I crossed against the light and he yelled at me for being careless. I said, “But back there, you said–” He said, “You didn’t even look.” I said, “So I only get points if I do it on purpose?” He said, “Yes.” Then he crossed against the light without looking.

He just read out loud, “The average age of nuns today is sixty-nine,” and then added, “You’re a puppy.”

So earlier today, I had lunch with Jen and showed her my Curio stuff and she loved it. You can actually pitch a book with pictures, I was amazed. And she said she could “see” Always Kiss Me Goodnight better than You Again, probably because it was all one picture (it’s the one I posted here) instead of being divided into four acts/boards like YA. Or maybe I just have a better grip on that story. Anyway, it was a great lunch.

Bob just said, “I think you could still write.” So it’s okay if he sells me into a nunnery because I can still collaborate. I told him I’m Lutheran. He said they have Lutheran nuns. Then he went back to researching. He appears to be serious about making the heroine a nun. He grew up going to Catholic schools, maybe it’s something to do with that?

So anyway, my foot is really throbbing right now, but it has stopped bleeding and I’m not going to get lockjaw–I think Bob was a little disappointed–so Mollie and I are on for the walking all over tomorrow. Bob is leaving first thing in the morning, having just dashed into town at the last minute without telling anybody which is why you should ignore the pathetic moaning he’s doing on his blog–if you don’t tell people you’re coming in, they can’t save a lunch date for you–and is now dashing out again.

Bob just said, “I don’t think the nun thing is going to work for this book.” YA THINK?

We’re living the dream in New York City.