Life is perfect (for the moment).

It's that special time in a writer's life:
The new manuscript is done and has been turned into the agent.
The agent will not be done reading said manuscript for at least a few days, possibly an entire week!

For these delicious, yet fleeting moments, life couldn't be better. There are no revisions that need revising, no writing that needs to be written and no sorrows that need to be drowned in Bombay martinis, straight up, VERY cold, extra olives. Martinis need only to be enjoyed, not needed.

I'm going to enjoy these perfect days. Sit in the sun. Try on some wigs. Wrap some boas around my neck for my own amusement. Eat some chocolate.

Ah, if only all of life could be this grand.

Keep Manhattan Just Gimme That Countryside!

Move over Eva Gabor, Green Acres is the place to be! I'm not sure if this is very cool of me or slightly weird and kind of old-lady-ish, but I've taken up all sorts of farm-girl stuff at my new house in upstate Podunkapalooza.

I'm 1. gardening 2. baking bread 3. making my own (yes, for real) goat cheese and 4. wearing Carhartts and work boots and completely ignoring my 5-step Obagi face care routine!

Oh, but check out those squash blossoms. Nice, right?

Do you think I'll ever recover? Do you think I'll ever wear my Pucci heels again?