mary e. pearson

I just got done sending off an interview to a librarian where she asked me several questions, one of which what was the best part of being an author.  The abbreviated version of my answer to her was that the best part were the various responses I get to my writing from people I don't know.  And now, on Amazon is a new customer review that refers to The Adoration of Jenna Fox as one of the most twisted stories the reader has read.

I feel so completely middle-america-average sometimes, it really makes me smile to feel a little twisted ; ) 

Here's a few more pictures that didn't make it into my conference wrap-up:

First we have the smug lady and the shocked hubby.  What did she just tell him?

 
These gargoyles (that is not the right name for them--what is it?  I have been wracking my brain.  For some reason I think it is an architectural term that ends with bel.  Someone out there must know!) anyway, they were on the side of a building along the Riverwalk in San Antonio.  The sculptor had quite the sense of humor.  But really, what did she just tell him?

Along side the Riverwalk is a mall where husband and I popped in and husband sees a Brookstone store and says, "You have to try out this massage chair. "  Okay.  So he sits in one and the salesman gets me seated--and installed--in the next.  Hm, who do you think got best chair?  Yes, my hands are strapped in and my feet clamped down!  That would have been the perfect opportunity for a thief to run with my purse because I couldn't have done a thing!



And those arm things?  They squeeze HARD!  And the feet too!  So we switched. (hm, it just occurred to me that we look a little like the couple above--in reverse)
I have to say, the other chair is heavenly (as you can see from my blissful husband.)  They are pricey, but ohhhh, if you want a really good massage for free, just go to Brookstone and test drive them. Be sure you get the one without the arm straps.  It's like a real person is rubbing the knots in your neck! (So that is my cheap stress tip for the season.  You're welcome.)

And now for the piece de resistance . . .

Timothy "Crockett"


AKA as Tim Jones, the Assistant Marketing Director at Henry Holt.  Ya know, in San Antonio, you've got to get in the spirit and Tim sure did.  And I have no doubt that he is wearing it now that he is back in NYC.  Right, Tim?  It is practical and chic!  He may start a new trend in NY.

Oh, and last but not least--another San Antonio picture.  Look who was in PW today!  (Scroll to the bottom)  Quite the motley crew!

Okay, I warned you that I don't take just the usual tourist pictures.  We were walking down the "Greek" street in Paris and saw this ad:


Some words just don't abbreviate well, or that is some gyro.

ahem.  In more bookish news, I leave this weekend for San Francisco and  the NCIBA trade show where I will be signing at 1:00 pm on Sunday, October 5th.  Books will be $1 and that money will go to the American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression.  So come say hi to me, get a great bargain on a book, and support ABFFE all in one day.

On Monday, October 6 I will be visiting a high school and a middle school in the area and that night--drumroll please--will be at the NYMBC in Palo Alto!  7pm!

If you live in the Palo Alto area (and even if you don't!) please come by!  Keep me company!  Ask me questions!  I will ask YOU questions!  I will share my biogel with you!  Or at least a super ass. gyro.

See you there!  (pleeze?  Nothing sadder than a lonely author ; )

I mentioned yesterday that we saw some "interesting" art while we were at Versailles.  Let me say first, I have an art background, both fine and commercial, and I do have an appreciation for unusual work. One of my only criteria is that one piece of art shouldn't ruin the enjoyment of another piece of art.

Years ago we had quite a controversial art piece placed right here in Carlsbad.  An artist was commissioned to create some art for placement overlooking our beach.  It was a commission gone awry that took years to undo.  Unfortunately, the artist created a series of tall bars that looked rather like a prison and they extended for quite some distance.  There was nothing wrong with the art itself, and many people did admire it--but the placement of the art was disastrous.  It was the prime sunset watching place in Carlsbad, and now everyone was forced to watch the once beautiful sunsets--art in their own right--through a series of tall bars.  It didn't go over well to put it mildly, and was eventually removed.

So now, fast forward to my vacation.  I have brought my kids half way around the world to see Versailles.  The day before we went I heard that there were French protesters at Versailles who were not happy about an art show at the palace.  I didn't think a lot about it until we arrived:


Yes, that is a giant pink balloon dog in the middle of the Grand Apartments.  I actually could have found it interesting and amusing, but it overwhelmed and dominated the whole room.  And lets face it, most of us can't hop on over to Versailles every day, and THAT is what I went to see.  You could not take a picture of anything in this room without the pink pup taking over.  Oh well, there were other rooms, paintings and sculptures to see at Versailles so we moved on . . . 

Only to find that this "art show" continued on. Yes, it seems we flew thousands of miles to see . . .



Michael Jackson and his chimp, Bubbles.  Yes.  Really.  I didn't photoshop him in. Somewhere behind him is a sculpture of Louis XV, but that piece of artwork we couldn't see.  It was completely obliterated by the golden MJ. Okay, I am trying not to pull my hair out.  Really.  And the parallels of the kings and excess are not lost on me.  But I didn't really need those parallels.  And neither did my kids.  I wanted them to see Versailles!  Again, this scupture completey dominated this historic room and its art.

Onward.  It couldn't get worse could it?



What a stupid question.  Unless you are a big fan of giant plastic lobsters. 

And so it went for the rest of our tour of Versailles.  The sad thing is, I probably would have enjoyed or at least found this art show amusing, if only it hadn't interfered with the art I came to see.

Any opinions?  I know art has many purposes, including stirring up emotions and controversy, but should it ever be at the expense of other art?  I don't know.  Perhaps if my time at Versailles hadn't been so limited and precious I might have had a different opinion, but as it was, I left disappointed.  In truth, I have seen the art and rooms at Versailles before, but I had wanted my kids to see it too.  Instead they saw giant balloon animals and Bubbles.

ya gotta keep laughing.



It being tax time I found it amusing that this sculpture is outside a CPA firm.

More unusual sculptures here

Also, I updated my website, finally. I added some review snips on The Adoration of Jenna Fox page, and also some links to the latest like the book trailer and also a link to the Discussion Guide (which turned out very cool--written by a bio ethics professor)

I also added a page of faves and unfaves (now who likes potato bugs, would you tell me?) and a few favorite pics.

My sister takes a lot of beautiful photos, but sometimes she takes ones that are just plain fun. I love this one. How can you look at it and not smile? Of course, I have a thing for ducks as some of you read about quite some time ago. Not too practical for me to have a duck since I already have two bird dogs (though the dogs might beg to differ) but I love everything about ducks--from the noises they make, to the way they waddle, all the way down to their floppy orange feet.

Admit it, they make you smile too.

Going Green: Or maybe this should be titled Irony . Does anyone else think it is a tad ironic that those new curly bulbs that are supposed to help the environment by using less electricity, are always packaged in those evil hard molded plastic packs that aren’t even recyclable? What’s wrong with the cushy cardboard that regular bulbs come in?

The world at large: And in the same “Going Green” theme, I saw a segment about the Svalbard Global Seed Vault on the Today Show this morning, and also a bit posted on Gwenda Bond’s Shaken & Stirred blog. The main mission of the project is conservation. Very cool. Literally.

And my world at small: The steady amount of rain this year means spring has come early to So Cal. But because of the rain, the gardener couldn’t come last time. You should see my lawn. It is a lush green forest. Now since professornana already brought up the subject of poop this morning, I will just lay it out. Gardeners may not come because of rain but dogs just keep right on pooping, and since I am the designated Pooper Scooper, it has become an “interesting” task. I know, you don’t want to hear more, but you will. With two large dogs it is a verifiable mine field out there. Those little nuggets are like bombs in hiding, waiting for me to step on them before I can scoop them.

I appreciate the rain, but please, I am tired of feeling like Senor Caca doing a hat dance. Please no rain on Friday! The gardener comes to rescue me!

I had to drive to downtown San Diego this morning. Along the way I noticed a lot of "storage" facilities. Twenty years ago, these places were non-existent. I have to admit, *I* have a storage unit. I am really pretty good about throwing stuff out, but it seems to multiply when I am not looking. Some of that storage is for business of course, but it still seems like I am contantly trying to get rid of stuff (when my husband isn't looking.) It really makes my mind wander to a basic existence on Walden Pond . . . I bet Henry didn't have a storage facility.

Any of you overrun with stuff?

oxymoron:

CUSTOMER SERVICE

Really? I just got off the "customer service" line of a local store that had the MOTHER OF ALL VOICE TREES on it. What part of customer SERVICE don't they understand?

Breath deep, Mary. Breathe deep.

Actually there is one voice mail that we sometimes call twice just because it is so funny. Our local pharmacy has a fellow who is a dead ringer for Huckleberry Hound. I swear. I can't reorder meds without rolling on the floor laughing. I'd give you the number but then their phone lines would be jammed with all of you calling for a good laugh too.

Maybe that is what other store voice mails need to do--get a voice that people find entertaining. Can you imagine if you heard Clint Eastwood, or Joan Rivers, or the Govenator, or Elvis on the other end of a customer service line?

Yesterday the freezer compartment of my new fridge stopped working. I am reading directions and playing with controls to see if it is something I can fix before I call the appliance store.

Yesterday I also happened to receive my first issue of Real Simple. I don’t need another magazine to read but I am a sucker for 12 year olds who are selling magazines and trying to earn enough points for a snow cone machine.

So serendipity steps in. The first article I read is about things you can always count on. Well, obviously I know what I can’t count on: my month old refrigerator to keep my bleepin ice cream frozen. So it was good that I should shift gears and think about the rock solid things I could count on. The author of the article created a list of old-faithfuls. So shall I.

People and things I can always count on:

1. Man of my dreams to make me laugh–even if I am spittin mad. (Oh, that makes me mad!)
2. Losing a sock in the dryer.
3. Not playing bunco with my bunco friends.
4. My sister and I acting silly together.
5. Two glorious cups of coffee in the morning.
6. Junkmail.
7. Finding something in the last place I looked.
8. Two wagging tails greeting me when I walk in the front door.
9. Poop on the lawn (hey, at least it’s predictable)
10. Christmas lights making me smile. Every time. I’m a sucker for those too.

Phooey on that freezer. I feel better already. Consider yourself tagged. What can you always count on?

Time has an interesting article on birth order. It doesn't bode well for us last borns--at least according to some studies. I do have to agree that us later children are much more agreeable. Although my older brother and sister probably have their own opinion on that. My husband and I are both the third child. Interesting how that ended up. How about you? Where are you in the pecking order? Do you really think it makes a difference?

oh yeah, that's me in the picture, the cross-eyed butterball in the middle. Maybe Time is right.

I've noticed this for a long time, but New Yorkers, and maybe the rest of the country, seems to spend a fortune on shoes.

This morning on the Today show they were talking about Saks new shoe department that has something like 100,000 pair of shoes--and I'm sure they all cost something equal to a downpayment on a house.

Both of these pair from Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus are over $500. I think I have broken a hundred dollars on a pair of shoes, twice in my life--and then I felt guilty.
Is this an East coast vs. West Coast phenomena? Yes, us Californians do have Payless and flip flops, but even so, when I wear heels I don't lay out that kind of money.

What is the most you've ever spent on a pair of shoes? (be brave--and honest!)

Yesterday I posted about spring victories, and in the interest of full disclosure, I would like to come clean about some losing battles. Sometimes in life you just have to resign yourself to the fact that you win some and you lose some.

So with that said, please meet my polka dot lawn:



And to be even more honest, right now it is looking good. You see, it is a victim of Pee Wars. It wasn’t always this way. Once it was a green carpet that you would happily lay down on–but that was when we only had one dog. Then we got two. Their greatest joy in life is over peeing each other. So one small spot in a vast yard to choose from becomes the chosen spot–over and over and over again. I know that the male species–from human to canine–has weird peeing habits, but why didn’t anyone ever tell me about Pee Wars?

Here are the culprits:



Yeah, they try to act innocent, but don’t be deceived. As soon as I snapped this shot they were off wizzing again.

But you have to choose your battles, right? And a polka dot lawn is well worth the sloppy kisses. I think.

Other losing battles:

1. That last five pounds
2. Sleeping through the night
3. Writing a book without agonizing over it (Office Depot “easy” button perhaps?)
4. Drifts of dog hair (hm, back to dogs again . . .)

What are yours?

WHAT?!?

Yesterday I was in a store--a luggage store mind you--and suddenly I heard a rooster, a very loud, enthusiastic cock-a-doodle-do. I immediately looked toward the open door wondering how in the world a rooster ended up at a strip mall. And then another cock-a-doodle-do and I am scanning the store. Is it inside? And then I see a woman pull a cell phone from her purse and say "hello?"

Usually I get mildly annoyed at obnoxious rings, but I have to admit this one made me smile. Maybe because it fooled me. And it made me realize how completely boring my cell ring is. I think it is # 43 Standard Cingular Ring or something like that. la-da-da-da-da-da-da-la-da-da-da. Snore.

What is your ring? And what is the most unique (or obnoxious?) ring you've ever heard?

. . . of your comfort zone.

A client of my husbands invited us down to a club in the Gaslamp last night. I really had no clue what to expect, but when I told my daughter where we were going, she squealed that this was the kind of place SHE should be going and not her parents! Ew. And then she tried to redress me so I would be "appropriate." Uh, no honey. I'm not showing that much skin. Besides, it's cold out. And raining. Let's be practical here. Yep, not a clue. But hubby and I like to dance and we needed to get out. So . . . we arrive at:



hm. Intersting name. And what is that? Now I have to walk down these dark stairs to a basement? They stamp my hand and put a band on my wrist. A tracking device in case I get lost? And what is that noise? The hip hop is vibrating right through me already. But it's a good beat. I think I could dance to that.



That is, if I can see where I'm going. Actually the lights kept changing so it wasn't always this dark. Even the little reserved table that we were led to kept changing colors. I was quite amused. Gawd, I need to get out more.

One thing I noticed is that no one seemed to be dancing. I mean, the dance floor was packed, but they were just standing there mostly jiggling. Hey, my daughter showed me some hip hop moves and even though I execute them Elaine style, what the heck, I was ready. I have no pride. So we did get out there and dance and mostly in our old fogey style. And a few hip hop moves that would make my daughter proud (or horrified?) It was fun.

But definitely out of our comfort zone. Which is a good thing now and then.

First the happy thing.

It's gone! I FedExed my revised manuscript to my editor yesterday! What a relief. The Adoration of Jenna Fox is out of my hands and will be in hers tomorrow. Yay! I've been burning the midnight oil to get it done by the 31st and it feels good to say: Misson Accomplished : )

And now for the AMAZING thing . . .

Actually, amazing isn't even the right word. Unbelievable might be better. In fact, most of you will swear that I am pulling an April Fool's joke. I am not. This is TRUE as God is my witness.

Exactly one month ago I posted about that traumatic season that is upon us: Bathing Suit shopping season. Truth is, I did go out shopping and it was just as bad as I thought it might be. I came home, disgusted, with nothing.

So, last week my husband was walking out the door for an appointment and he showed me a bathing suit in a catalog that had come in the mail. "Like it?" he asked. Me: Nod and rolled eyes. "They always look great in the catalogs."

So then he calls me around noon and is in the bathing suit department of this store and he asks me what size I wear. You can imagine the hysterical laughter. Not just mine, but the sales lady who was helping him. ("Sir, you are trying to buy a suit for your wife? Even when women come in and try them on, they can't find one they like.") More laughter. But he was determined so I guessed at a size. I really didn't have a clue since it always varies from suit to suit.

He brought it home. I tried it on. And it fits perfectly! AND I love it! It is the best suit I have had in a long time. Yes, I know, this destroys my chances at winning the lottery. But now my husband has a new job every spring, and it is so worth it.

So I guess my amazing thing is also a happy thing too.

But the cool thing I did with this is tried some of my character's names. I always wonder when I name characters if anyone with that name will read the book (esp if it's a nasty character like Mrs. Garrett. yikes.)
For my MC's I found out that there are:

4 - Kaitlin Malone
0 - Zoe Buckman
24 - Jenna Fox (my forthcoming book)

So I guess there is no chance of a Zoe Buckman reading my book, but Jenna is a remote possibility.

Wow. What kind of sandal do you suppose it was?

what a class act.

So tempting to name the unclassy schmuck though . . .

Cheers for strong women like Kyle Paxman.





(edited to add: I checked with Charity Navigator and CARE is a four star charity.)