I’m home and I’m happy. Part of that is because I’m off the road, and part of that is because I love my work, and part of that is because I have the best friends in the world, but sometimes happiness is also in the details. For example:
Rachel brought me tons of chocolate from England, and I’m still eating it. And whenever I pick up a piece, I think of Rachel, and how wonderful it was to finally meet her. Especially since she brought me so much chocolate. It adds an entirely new dimension to calories.
If I had known that squirrels and birds and coyotes would leap in the car and sing with me if I bought a Jeep Liberty, I’d have gone that way instead of the Prius. The Prius did get 46 miles to the gallon on the trip to SC, but I’ll sacrifice the environment to sing with wildlife. That commercial just makes me really happy.
Pushing Daisies is the new Buffy. With dialogue like, “That wasn’t the Truth Bus, that was the Bitchy Crosstown Express,” and Kristen Chenowith as Olive singing “Hopelessly Devoted to You,” this show has made me its viewer slave. I’m in complete sympathy with the writers’ strike except that there won’t be new episodes after Thanksgiving if they don’t come to terms, and I need my Pushing Daisies fix. Do not deprive me of Olive. I love Olive. Even if she did lie about the jockey thing. And don’t get me started on Swoozie Kurtz and Ellen Greene as the aunts. Or Chi McBride as the detective. The leads are lovely, too, but it’s the supporting cast that makes me insane with delight.
Krissie and Lani and I have decided to move to Oregon and buy land and build three houses and a common office building and start a commune. We were talking in Campfire about calling it Mesopotamia, but then Krissie suggested Clitoris, and Clitoris, Oregon just has a nice ring to it, but then Lani pointed out that the guys would never find it. We laughed for a long time. I can’t wait to move to Clitoris, Oregon. The guys can use GPS.
It’s finally cool enough that I can wear my long red velvet dress. I love this dress. It has a v-neck and buttons down the front and it’s heavy enough to drape really well without dragging me down, and it’s warm, and I feel dramatic and creative in it. You know, you really can’t underestimate the value of clothes that make you feel like the Real You. I am so a red-velvet-dress, sequined-beach-skirt kind of woman. And yet I dress in black pants and jackets when I go out. I must begin to embrace color. Stopping just short of the Red Hat Club.
Speaking of wildlife, there’s an insane woodpecker that keeps flying into the big window in my TV room. Like three times a day. For months. No exaggeration. He keeps doing the exact same thing over and over and getting the crap knocked out of him (you should see this window) and yet he never learns. I’m calling him “Bob.” (And somewhere from the direction of Seattle comes the mutter, “Humor. Har.”) Anyway, now when he hits, instead of getting annoyed, I just say, “Hi, Bob,” and laugh. But I am hoping he goes south for the winter.
I’m working on three books right now. This should be stressful, but I love them all so much, I’m just having a wonderful time. Oddly enough, they’re all paranormal. I don’t know how that happened. One’s a ghost story, one’s about a goddess who rises, and ones about a portal to an alternate universe. It wasn’t a plan to do that, it just happened. I told somebody that and she said, “Paranormal is over.” Not in Crusie world, it isn’t. Besides, I don’t think you can call a genre that began with Beowulf “over” ever. Although Beowulf may be now that Angelina Jolie is playing Grendel’s mother in spike heels. Also, I don’t care. Markets come, markets go, good stories are forever. Also, I think anybody who says, “Paranormal is over” when you’re telling her how happy you are about the book you’re working on is probably not a soul mate, so I’ll just take my happiness back to Clitoris where they get me.
I’m in love with the new Mac OS, Leopard. I know. Hi. My name is Jenny and I’m a Mac Geek, but really, this is so amazing. My first fave thing: you can put folders in the dock now so they’re not all over your desk top but, even better, whatever the first file in the folder is becomes the icon, so if I put a space before an image’s label, it becomes the first one and the icon. So here are the folders for the three books I’m working on it the dock:
The little girl is Alice from Always Kiss Me Goodnight, the three daisies are the women from Dogs & Goddesses, and the dog is Albert from Wild Ride. It makes me happy just looking at them.
I suppose you’re all gagging now. The last time I talked to Mollie she said, “You can stop telling me how happy you are. I get it.” Really, I’m all Ellen Greene singing “Build a little birdhouse in your soul” lately. Then winter will come and I’ll get depressed, so I’ve ordered those lights that make you perk right up even in February so with luck, I can keep on building my birdhouse. And if not, well, hell, it was fun while it lasted. And spring will come some day, and eventually we’ll all be in Clitoris where there will be nothing but good times ahead.
But enough about me. What’s in the birdhouse in your soul? Because happiness is in the details, and you should share.