Entropy, Redux

By Cornelia

It is official. I am the most disorganized blogger EVER. Which means I have completely spaced on Naked Authors for months. Which is not because I don't love you guys, because I totally, totally do.

It is about chaos, and geography, and The Crazy. That would be MY crazy. Or as my sister likes to say, "cray-cray." Only in my case I think it would be "cray-cray-cray-cray"

Or perhaps "cray-cray-cray-cray [repeat sixty more times]"

Here is what has happened since last I typed:

I packed up my clothes and wok and Cuisinart and ice-cream machine put them in the beau's car and watched while these Russian guys loaded the car onto a truck four days late 

and took a train to New York and got on a plane for San Francisco and went to the Book Passage Mystery Writers Conference for four days and got to see Our Jackie (YEA!!!!!) and so many other wonderful tribe-folk 

and did--I think--ninety-six panels and one speech 

and stayed up too late yakking and went to a party at the beau's cousin's house and the car showed up in California four days late and then we picked up the dog of the friend whose house we were staying from the kennel it was in when friend's son got called away on a sudden private-detective gig five hours north of Marin and we ate dim sum at Yank Sing 

and drove to Carmel and spent the night at Mom's house and drove to Brentwood and stayed the night at a friend of the beau's and then moved into our rental place in LA (which is the most beautiful place I've ever lived in my whole entire life--like, seriously, an apartment in Paris in the Thirties only with banana trees BUT NOT EXPENSIVE)

and then discovered that we only have this place for two months instead of four so have to find another house for October and November and did I mention I'm supposed to go to Greece in three weeks with Mom, 

AND my daughter is flying out here on Sunday? 

Oh, and my ghost-writing gig is apparently going REALLY REALLY REALLY badly 

and I of course think that they will fire me and that I will starve to death alone in my car in the woods surrounded by the stench of my own failure 

and everyone I've ever met will laugh uproariously at this turn of events and say "I told her so" 

and also the beau's TV show is apparently THE MOST OFFENSIVE RACIST MISYOGYNIST AGEIST WHAT-THE-FUCK-EVER PROGRAM EVER MADE in the entire history of humanity? (I think it's really funny and gorgeously written and acted. Not that the Television Critics Association gives a flying crap what *I* think.)

Also my friend Candace's house burned down in Austin so she's staying at my house back East while I'm gone. 

Did I also also also mention that I only just moved into that house on April 1, and got all my stuff out of storage in California and had it shipped to New York? Because, yea, apparently I always need to be three thousand miles away from my beloved books and archival ephemera.

But I digress.

Here's the deal: I have never, ever, ever been happier in my life than I am right now.

Thank you so very much, oh Dear Nakeds, for seeing me through the tough times it took to get to here. 

I fucking love you guys.

And if things ever really go to shit again, we will have excellent woodland picnics together, sitting on the hood of my car.