May Madness
Summertime in Texas starts in May, which happens to be my favorite month.
Here's what I've been up to:

Cultural stargazing. Saw "A Chorus Line" for the first time at the glorious Bass Hall in Fort Worth. Our seats were amazing...we could peep over into the orchestra and watch. I'd never seen the show before (I'm the last one, I know.) Who knew musicals could be so...introspective?
Reading. (Of course.) John Burdett's Bangkok 8 still hasn't left my consciousness. A mystery set in the mean streets of Thailand, it's a sensory soaked trip with one of the most horrifying murders set to page. The end offers up a nightmarish twist you won't forget. As Owen Meany would say, it gives me the SHIVERS!

Writing. The creative process for book two (working title: Mulligan) is going well, and I'm learning more than I thought I ever would about tobacco, autism, the PGA tour and how to knit. I promise, when you read it, it all makes sense.
Being a birthday girl, for several days running. (Insert Anthony Michael Hall's "You say it's your birthday, bananananana") We had friends over and celebrated in grand style on the back patio, with twinkly lights overhead. My husband made grapefruit margaritas - sounds gross but they rock - and we chatted al fresco until the wee hours.
Background music - a great birthday gift from my tunally inclined friend (thanks, Joel!):

Rosanne Cash's new album Black Cadillac. Try it, you'll like it.
And then, possibly the most exciting, over-indulgent gift ever, from my mother. Two words: Manolo Blahniks. They're more beautiful than a pair of footwear has a right to be. But I promise to love, honor, and adore them. Sigh.
Here's what I've been up to:

Cultural stargazing. Saw "A Chorus Line" for the first time at the glorious Bass Hall in Fort Worth. Our seats were amazing...we could peep over into the orchestra and watch. I'd never seen the show before (I'm the last one, I know.) Who knew musicals could be so...introspective?
Reading. (Of course.) John Burdett's Bangkok 8 still hasn't left my consciousness. A mystery set in the mean streets of Thailand, it's a sensory soaked trip with one of the most horrifying murders set to page. The end offers up a nightmarish twist you won't forget. As Owen Meany would say, it gives me the SHIVERS!
Writing. The creative process for book two (working title: Mulligan) is going well, and I'm learning more than I thought I ever would about tobacco, autism, the PGA tour and how to knit. I promise, when you read it, it all makes sense.
Being a birthday girl, for several days running. (Insert Anthony Michael Hall's "You say it's your birthday, bananananana") We had friends over and celebrated in grand style on the back patio, with twinkly lights overhead. My husband made grapefruit margaritas - sounds gross but they rock - and we chatted al fresco until the wee hours.
Background music - a great birthday gift from my tunally inclined friend (thanks, Joel!):

Rosanne Cash's new album Black Cadillac. Try it, you'll like it.
And then, possibly the most exciting, over-indulgent gift ever, from my mother. Two words: Manolo Blahniks. They're more beautiful than a pair of footwear has a right to be. But I promise to love, honor, and adore them. Sigh.
Questions o' the day:
Live musicals - seen any?
Birthdays - greatest gifts ever? And sentimental counts...



