The weather has been good for writing, and I’m worried that this early thaw cycle may mean winter won’t last long enough to finish a pretty good third draft of my new book, Finding the Good, so I’m kind of holed up at my desk in my pajamas surrounded by coffee cups, bowls of seeds and nuts, and dog treats to keep Pearl quiet between walks. (I pull my snow/rain gear on over the PJs. Oh, the glam writing life.) No wonder I passed up a gala weekend in Seattle for the launch of a new book I’ve contributed to, The Better Bombshell, featuring all kinds of smart, hip creative artists and writers focusing on women– beauty, brains, and the evolution of the so-called bombshell. In the bathroom mirror I keep seeing one of those Walker Evans dust bowl farm wife portraits. Also, much, much cooler people than me will be there, including funnyman Dave Barry and Stanford prof. of women’s studies, Valerie Miner. The editors are three brilliant and beautiful young women. Can you imagine, all those gorgeous people in black tie, and strapless gowns toasting each other with champagne in long stemmed glasses, and me, in my polka dot flannel pajamas with the crust of yesterday’s toast stuck to my elbow? It’s best to stay home, for now. But you know, I can’t wait to set a copy of The Better Bombshell on my coffee table, and to casually say, next time a neighbor catches me in my pajamas at noon, that believe it or not, I am a better bombshell, too.
