Freakish Images

Today the air show is going on in Rhode Island. I've never been to it but take little fancy to the idea of standing around in the humidity plugging my ears. It's really quite loud enough without being directly under the show itself. I don't much like that the Air Show is still going on with the war in Iraq, but it is a benefit to Hasbro Children's Hospital, a place I appreciate very much.

It seems the Air Show always takes place on a hot or humid day. The weather today in RI is both. But I never ever complain about the summertime because I genuinely hate winter. I know people who like it, and I can never understand why (except in the case of children who like to play in snow).

Last night I started reading the graphic novel adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Coraline and found myself, for the first time, fully understanding his comment on how the story would likely give adults nightmares but be a great adventure for children. There is something markedly bizarre and slightly unpleasant for me in seeing the story this blatantly (although P. Craig Russel is one of my favorite artists). The author also once mentioned how it is so much easier for him to be sickened by descriptions because his mind can do so much, but actually seeing something up front didn't bother him nearly as much. Sometimes I feel the same way; sometimes, on the other hand, I cannot bear to look. (I remember beginning his Sandman series for the first time -- not so very long ago -- and having to take several weeks to adjust to the frequent ... Sandmanness of it.) After all, your mind can always tone things down, too.

I have to rush off to do something now.

~Emily

Banging My Head Against the Wall

Because six-year-old William threw up tonight.

http://emetophobia.bravepages.com

All I can say really, is crap.

~Emily

Old Things and Jitterbugs

Seventy-eight degrees today; utterly and gloriously perfect weather.

I'm helping out with a tour of antiques today -- furniture, paintings, and toys. I have a great fondness for very old dolls and books and treasure my German copy of a compilation of Hans Christian Andersens' fairy tales. It has the sweet old-book smell and I have found dry flower petals pressed in between the leaves.

Fortunately, much of the tour takes place outside.

Tomorrow two of my younger brothers (Jack and William) perform in their Wizard of Oz play. I am extremely excited to see nearly-seven-year-old William as a Tough Guy Munchkin (of the Lollipop Guild), Poppy, Winkie, and Twister. I really am. And ten-year-old Jack shall play Uncle Henry. Jack also has to be a Jitterbug (?) and claims to hate the costume with a passion. This makes me curious and very interested to see it.

I hope the weather is every bit as lovely in your area, but I hear it's dreadfully hot in Los Angeles. (Keep cool, Yoga Gal.)

~Emily

Happy Fathers Day

Now, the truth is I don't really like Fathers Day. My own father is really not particularly nice, although all the public ever sees is his pretend persona -- which is genial and loving. I get to be seriously nauseated upon watching him interact with people outside of his immediate family. At home (though fortunately I no longer reside with him) he was always ... you know. Well. Not very nice, as I said.

I would, however, love to wish all my readers a Happy Fathers Day, especially those without fathers or those who are enduring difficult times with their fathers. And also to all the fathers.

Happy Fathers Day.

~Emily

On Sunday I paid a visit to Barrington Books in Barrington to attend a book signing by Kelly Easton, author of Hiroshima Dreams and White Magic (which I reviewed for VOYA), amongst others. It was a very small group -- including her husband and young son, and two of her friends, both of whom were also authors -- and was very cozy and friendly. I've never experienced that kind of atmosphere at a book signing, probably because I haven't been to many, and those I have attended were by very widely read authors. But it was nice -- we all chatted for about an hour. I was very excited when Kelly told me she had actually seen my review in the magazine. The only really unpleasant bit for me was around the end, when my allergies gave a great cackle and lunged for my throat. Sometimes I just start to choke on things in the air, and, however invisible the little demons might be, they make me feel as though I am about to throw up. I have to drink lots of water to keep that from happening; of course I could not hold a proper thanks-so-much-it-was-so-great-to-meet-you-stay-in-touch while I was choking. I kept trying to apologize but couldn't really do it without coughing. My eyes were streaming. It was absolutely absurd. As genuine as she was in claiming that she could sypmathize, it was a very embarrassing moment.

This little episode did not, I might add, spoil my day. I hate to end a post on such a negative note!

~Emily

Ill

I woke at two-thirty this morning with a stupendously sore throat, and the next morning it seemed to have had an effect on my ears, because I was horribly nauseated. (Take a look at http://emetophobia.bravepages.com/ for information on why I was less than thrilled.) Fortunately had some ginger gum on hand and that must be magical, because it worked amazingly well. I'm much better now but can hardly wait for the sore throat to go away.

I guess I'm all done complaining. I hope all my readers are well.

~Emily

Something I wrote is on page thirty of the summer issue of Teen Ink. A copy of the magazine arrived in the mail today, along with the pen and sticky-pad that the writers get when their work appears in it.

Earlier today I thought abotu stating this information matter-of-factly, as though to incline that I were merely pleased.

Screw modesty. I'm enormously excited. I am, in fact, jubilant, and undoubtedly thrilled.

The title is Unforgotten. If ever you feel interested, check page thirty.

~Emily