1. We moved back to Colorado! After 2 years back east, we realized how much we love the mountains and sunshine of the Centennial State. Yes, it really is sunny here. Mad sunny. The whole snowstorm thing is kind of an urban legend perpetuated by native Coloradans to keep people from moving here, but we’re totally onto those tricksters now. I mean, it’s so sunny here that even when it rains, we get rainbows.

2. Speaking of rainbows, did you see the Double Rainbow Guy video? If you have a few minutes, watch the whole thing.

I seriously got choked up watching this. How many people (especially adult people) do you see getting so emotional over anything, let alone a rainbow? Whenever I see a rainbow or some other really cool natural phenomena, I think about how fortunate I am to be able to witness such things, and “Bear” reminded me of that. Plus, I have a special affection for double rainbows, because they seem to appear in my life an special occasions, marking big and wonderful changes. The first was on our wedding day here:

The next was 2 years later on the day I accepted my first book deal, just after I left work for the day, wondering where this new path would take me. And three years after that, on the day we moved back to Colorado, we had a flash rainstorm followed by… yep, another double rainbow — the perfect welcome home sign. I didn’t even take a picture because I knew I’d always remember it.

3. FIXING DELILAH HANNAFORD news: The book is now called FIXING DELILAH, and the new cover is coming soon. Those of you who’ve scored ARCs have seen one cover, but it’s changing, so hold on! FIXING DELILAH officially hits the shelves, new title and new cover and all, on November 2.

4. Facebook freedom rocks! Hi. My name is Sarah. And I’ve been Facebook free for many blissful days. By “free” I mean “profile-less.” I still have a fan page for book updates and contests, but I don’t have the whole ball of big brotherly wax following me around to different web sites and collecting my personal information for some yet-to-be-revealed plot of global domination. Or something. Wait, I think my tinfoil hat is getting hot under all this sun…

I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer filled with happy sunshine, double rainbows, and lots of great books!

So, after a yummy get-acquainted lunch in which Miss Lily, Laura’s adorable daughter, downed a chocolate shake faster than even my fry-stealin’ shake-lovin’ husband could have done it, we headed to The Strand with full stomachs and a singular mission: to load up on some great YA picks. Pretty simple, right?

Right. That was before. Before, when Laura and I still thought Sharon was another sweet, good-natured book blogger. A lover of cats and upstate New York scenery. A kind, well-read soul with a heart of gold (or at least a high-grade silver). Before, we actually laughed when Sharon grabbed a double-decker basket thingy. “Why would you need two big baskets?” I asked (ignorantly). “I don’t think we need a whole cart,” Laura said (cluelessly). Yep. Before. I think I speak for both of us when I admit my utter shock on discovering that our tall blond companion is none other than… The Strand Master!

Listen, people, and learn as we did. When it comes to YA books, The Strand Master does not mess around.

She got her cart. Led us up to the second floor, past the YA shelves, straight for a low shelf near the children’s books. Dropped to the floor. Rolled up her sleeves. And dug in, hunting and pecking her way through doubled-up rows of ARCs. Fascinated, I pulled up an adjacent spot of floor and watched as The Strand Master (TSM) hunted for the besties of the book bunch, a bit like Frankie Perino’s bikini mission in TWENTY BOY SUMMER:

…Frankie takes a deep breath and gets to work. She weaves her way through racks of swimsuits, foraging like a mother antelope for her starving babies, passing over colors or styles that are “soooo last year” or “too blah blah blah for the beach.” When she finds something with potential, she tugs on the fabric to simulate a hard day in the surf and holds it to the light to ensure it has the right amount of see-throughability.

After fifteen minutes of hunting and gathering, Frankie emerges from the racks with two armloads of try-ons. A broken fingernail and a slight breathlessness are her only battle scars.

Speaking of battle scars, I almost lost a finger when I held up an ARC of Aprilynne Pike’s WINGS, so badly did TSM want it! It took me all of twelve seconds to relent, reasoning that I kind of need all of my digits for writing the next YA best seller (*grin*). TSM had been talking an awful lot about zombies that day, and she had that look in her eye…

*Shudder*

Anyway, after cleaning out the ARC shelves, TSM led us on another mission. Get-Sarah-to-buy-more-books-like-it’s-not-a-recession part deux, if you will. Down down down to the basement. Past the rows of textbooks and political discourse. Beyond the stacks of feminist theory and intellectual sales bins. Under the large overhanging EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. When met with curious stares from actual Strand employees, presumably those to which aforementioned EMPLOYEES ONLY sign referred, TSM uttered a secret password and the rest, well, to borrow a title from Ally Carter, I’D TELL YOU I LOVE YOU, BUT THEN I’D HAVE TO KILL YOU. But I will tell you that it was from a secret cave deep within the bowels of one of NYC’s best-loved book stores lined with gleaming hardcovers that I procured WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson and SHINE, COCONUT MOON by Neesha Meminger.

By the time we’d finished ransacking all the nooks and crannies of The Strand, we probably had 50 books between us, including Lily’s fave Spongebob pick. Laura and Lily had a long drive ahead of them, so TSM and I wished our Massachusetts friends farewell and headed into Starbucks for some coffee. There, squeezed around a crowded corner table, we met a man. A man who, as we soon learned thanks to his uncanny ability to rock the M in TMI, had seventeen recipes for rice krispie treats but no bones in front of his heart. It was all very Metropolitan Diary meets House, but Sharon couldn’t get enough of the gory details. Hmmm. I really think there’s something to her whole zombie obsession…

*Ponders*

Medical mishaps aside, the afternoon was full, fun, and fabulous — enough to exhaust any book-seeking urban explorer. I’m so happy that Sharon, Laura, and Lily shared their New York adventures with me! Ah, Internets. How ever did we instantly share the level of information cyberstalking requires without you?

Don’t forget to read Sharon’s take on our day at The Strand (and see a few more photos) here!

NYC to Us: “Why You Want To Leave Me?”

Okay, you know that guy that in high school who’s like the hottest guy ever and when he looks at you your insides start turning inside out? And one day when he smiles at you and says hi and actually uses your name instead of just doing that stupid what-up man-nod that boys always do when they’re around their friends your whole heart is about to explode right out of your chest? And then one day you find yourself innocently making out with him behind the school and you don’t even care that everyone is watching, or that in one day this guy knows more about your undergarments than the sales girl at Vicky’s?

But then you stop kissing long enough to get to know him and it turns out he’s about as dumb as a box of hair and he’s mean to his little sister and he kicks puppies in his spare time and also, he hits on your best friend? But he’s still really really hot and he brings you a rose and a little white bear on Valentine’s Day and you kind of forget about the best friend thing until naked pictures of her show up on his MySpace page, and even then you kind of laugh it off because he’s still really really hot and the other night in the Taco Bell parking lot you were shivering so he gave you his favorite black hoodie that you sleep with now because it still smells like him, even though the whole school is talking about those MySpace pics?

Yeah, that guy.

Anyway, that’s kind of why we’re moving. Not that NYC kicks puppies or anything, I’m just saying. Home is not what it once was for me – for many reasons. Did you get that from my clever (albeit quite-a-stretch) analogy?

Right.

Where To?

In 8 days, Alex and I are wandering up to Buffalo. Before you say anything, let me assure you that any rumors you’ve heard about Buffalo are probably true, but feel free to ask if you have any questions or curiosities. We’re excited to spend some quality time up there, especially since we work from home and therefore don’t have to shovel snow. Our neighborhood has everything we could ask for — a farmer’s market, an independent bookstore, Greek diners open all night, multiple coffee places, multiple veggie restaurants, a kick-ass library, close to Wegmans², and my baby brother who is as funny and talented as he is adorable (not that I’m pimping him or anything, but ladies, he’s single AND he’s not afraid to cry over girly YA books…)!

Expect lots of dispatches from the Queen City as we get settled into our new place in the coming weeks… just in time for fresh orchard apples and real cider, Halloween, and probably the first of many blizzards³. I’ve also heard rumors that a rabid squad of 20-somethings⁴ is conspiring to turn me and Alex into a couple of beer-drinking, bar-hopping, goal-post-climbing Buffalo Bills fans (among *cough* other things), but like I told aforementioned baby brother, we are the grown-ups in this operation, damn it, and we’re not above going all After School Special on the lot of ‘em!

*cough* Kids these days!

So you’ll have those stories to look forward to. See, I told you after my long blog absence I would make it up to you! Well maybe I forgot to tell you, tell you, but I was thinking it, and now you’ll reap the bounty of my Buffalo-bound babbling all winter.

In the words of Napoleon Dynamite… “LUCKY!”

P.S. No puppies were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

2. For those of you unschooled in the glory that is Wegmans, see here. My first real job was as a Wegmans cashier. They had all these tracking systems so they could time how long it would take us to complete an order, even if it wasn’t our fault that the customer was digging in her purse for change or coupons or her club card. It was very high-stakes for a grocery job. Anyway, Wegmans is much cooler now than when I worked there, but they probably still time the employees.
3. This is not an exaggeration. Ask anyone to share childhood memories of Halloween in Buffalo and you will undoubtedly hear words like “snowsuit” and “frostbite.”
4. Yes, your honor. That’s them.

1. Happy birthday, Flurfy!

Last week we took a trip out to Coney Island to watch the Brooklyn Cyclones in celebration of our friend Flurfy’s¹ birthday. The Cyclones suffered an American-as-apple-pie BEATdown from the Staten Island Yankees, but the evening was redeemed when I got to pose with the mascot (whom I’d been secretly admiring all night from a distance, especially when he got to dance with the ketchup and mustard puppet people during the 7^th inning stretch).

Speaking of cyclones…

2. Crazy Storms Invade Queens, Welcome Sarah Home

Standing out on the balcony the other night, I looked to the sky for a reminder of what I love about the east coast. Stormy weather? Bring. It. On. People think that the weather in Denver is tumultuous, but that’s an urban geo-legend. The climate in Denver is similar to that of San Francisco, and even when it snows or rains, it generally passes or melts quickly². And while rural areas surrounding Denver are prone to tornadoes and rapid onset lightening strikes, we didn’t get much of that in Littleton. There was only one night where Alex and I shot up in bed, debating for a good ten minutes on whether we should head down to the garage and sleep in the car. Instead, we just had our bed fitted with rubber tires.

Anyway, here in the Q-borough, the sky was like this big cauldron of magic soup, and then my mother-in-law said, “Bims, you’d better get inside, I think it’s a tornado.” Hearing this, I turned my camera upwards and captured this, and when it started swirling, I videoed it.

After that, we were treated to a crazy thunder storm. But alas, no tornadoes. Which is probably a good thing, because the closest I ever came to a tornado was in Hamburg, NY, circa 1985. A forceful gust of wind had snapped off a rather large tree branch, to which I responded, “Oh my god! I don’t want to die!!!!!” and practically knocked over my entire family, babies and pets included, running to the basement, where I stayed for a few long minutes until I was sure it was safe, and when I got back upstairs, everyone was just sitting around the dining room table looking at dinner menus as my life speed-racered before my eyes. My uncle looked up and said, “We’re ordering pizza, what kind do you want?”

Yes, I’m the one you want by your side during a dangerous situation. Oh, Auntie Em.

Speaking of a tumultuous tornado of a time…

3. Congratulations, Ash! You Survived H.S. in the Suburbs!

Our friend, Ash, just graduated from high school in Pennsylvania. High school graduations are a time of joy and celebration and pomp and circumstance, but for me, well, I think I’m still suffering a fifteen-year-long an allergic reaction. We did learn, however, that for the smartest representatives of the class of 2008—valedictorian and salutatorian, respectively—life is equally “a box of chocolates, like in Forest Gump” and “a blank Word document with a blinking cursor.” Ponder that, why don’t you!

*Blink blink blink*

Anyway, congrats, Ash. I may jest to camouflage my own youth-related anxieties, but we’re thrilled that you mostly survived it.

Wait, why are you crying?

Speaking of high school torrents most of us would rather forget…

4. Hey There, Delilah

This is the real reason for my failed blog crop.

I’m working long hours (with alternating procrastinatory intervals) to wrap up my 2^nd YA novel, so if I don’t answer your phone calls, emails, door-knocking, IMs, texts, smoke signals, blogs, taunts, catcalls, or Scrabulous nudges³, it’s so not you. It’s me and the little people who live in my book—specifically Delilah, who’s giving me a hard time because that’s just the way she is. Right now, Delilah is more important than you.

Speaking of thunderous shakedowns…

5. Earth to Humans: All Passengers Must Exit

Anyone else get the feeling Earth is trying to shake us off? Just wondering.

3. Okay, okay. I never ignore my Scrabulous turns. Especially when I’m winning. But I am ignoring mostly everything else, including sleep and personal hygiene. Which is why it’s best for everyone that I not answer the door, either.

Hi!

*Waves!*

I know, I’m like the worst blogger/friend/daughter ever, leaving on a crazy cross-country move and then not writing for more than 3 weeks. For all you know, I could be stuck in a roadside diner-slash-gift shop in rural Iowa (yes, we visited a few) or hiding out in the Nebraska cornfields with Malachi and the children of Gatlin. But I’m not. Here I am! I truly appreciate all the emails and calls and I’m so sorry for triggering the abandonment issues some of you expressed. I’m back! I’m okay! I’m… yay!

After 34 hours on the road at the end of March, we made it to Buffalo, only to head out a day later to NYC. Some of us got sick for days after, while others did all the unpacking and sorting and settling in while simultaneously purchasing cough drops for aforementioned sickypoos and arranging them in their very own little jar for easy access (the cough drops, not the sickypoos). Not naming names, but, I may have been the… *cough*

I swear I didn’t plan it!

Anyway, maybe I’ll do a more complete essay on the road trip another time, including top ten quotes and memorable moments¹, but for now, a few random tidbits on our new life in New York to let all you loyal readers know that yes, I’m still alive, and yes, we’re settling in just fine!

1. I’ve been a vewy bad vegetawian. After 6 whole years without ingesting anything that has a face, I…

   Ate.
   A.
   Tuna.
   Sandwich!

   3 of them, if we’re being honest. Horrible! Sea creatures everywhere, beware, because the worst part of it is… I really really liked them! Tuna melts at the diner, ahhh… No, I don’t want to talk about it. I disappoint myself. Poor little fishies.

2. But a good writer! After weeks of focusing on nothing but packing and moving across the country, I’m finally getting back into the writing groove. The city is a good place for it—very alive, easy to tap into the constant stream of energy. I was trying to explain to Alex today why it’s easier for me to write in a crowded coffee shop² than it is at home with my mom-in-law chatting and the television spewing out the latest horrible news via 24/7 CNN (because in a crowd, I can’t focus on any one conversation, especially when said conversations are happening in Asian languages which I do not speak, so the noise fades into a general comforting din, allowing me to focus on my writing and not the word “bitter”). He didn’t believe me (truth be told I think he just misses me when I’m away), but I had a really productive day today—the first in a while.
3. Sweet, sweet korma. OMG, best Indian restaurant ever, right around the corner. Seriously. I’ve been there like 8 times already, and I always get the same thing (navartan korma and veggie samosa³) and for like 47 cents, they hand me a bucketful of amazing food and unsolicited political commentary (“All of these candidates are bad. Worse fighting than in my third-world country at home.”). Yes, but are they bitter enough?
4. Memory lane is still… memorable. Alex and I took the 7 train to Woodside, our old hood, the other day. We had lunch and strawberry smoothies in this little Cuban place we used to frequent, walked past our old apartments, and stopped in to say hello to our old favorite pizza guy (who in our absence, expanded his little pizza place to take up the entire corner and add an outside patio). Last weekend, when my mom was still in NY with us, we met my brother, aunt, and uncle for brunch at our old fave Irish brunch place in the same neighborhood. The food was just as we remembered, as were the old Irish guys hanging out at the bar. Is it possible that they haven’t moved in 5 years?

Now that we’re relatively settled, I’ll try to post more often. And eat less tu—hey, I said I didn’t want to talk about it! Bad, bad!

3. Lucky for our sea-dwelling little friends, tuna samosa is not on the menu.

But alas, all was not lost! I learned a number of valuable lessons today:

1) Digital Cameras are magical, beautiful things. Perhaps even more magical and beautiful than fairies. And possibly babies. Not that I have a fairy or a baby, or a baby fairy, but I’ve seen pictures of both and feel confident in my unqualified assessment. I do miss my traditional SLR; I miss the different lenses and filters and children asking me if they can see the pictures on the back after I take them (I wonder what they would do with a cassette or VHS tape? Hmmm…). But I don’t miss the endless piles of photos filed in drawers.

For the past several months, we’ve been working on a project to transfer all of our in-the-drawer photos (last one taken circa April 2006) to on-the-shelf albums and we’re in the home stretch. I only have about 4 more years on film to go through, and they were all neatly organized by date, trip, and subject until today when I accidentally left the sliding door open and the wind blew them all about, babies crashing into weddings crashing into vacations crashing into holidays. Woosh! Memories all over the floor. Take a look—you might see yourself in that pile somewhere!

2) Pandora Internet Radio QuickMix? Awwwww yeah. Where else can you get Charlie Parker, Tupac, Muse, and Cat Stevens in one set? They’ve been keeping me company during the photos project. Speaking of projects, it’s time for a quote from rock star baby brother (aka Baby Boo):

“Wait… you’re doing a photos project? See, there’s your problem, Sar. You guys have too many damn projects.

Me? I’m just a neanderthal. Point me in a direction and tell me what to do. I don’t want any schematics or spreadsheets or blueprints or project plans, okay? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Shit.”

3) Fuel cost projections are never a good idea in a $4/gallon economy. According to its specs, our moving truck gets 6 miles per gallon. Our trip is about 2200 miles. You do the math (no, not you, Baby Boo. We already know how you feel about spreadsheets. We don’t want to stress you out with too much pre-planning.).

4) Goodwill, our friendly neighborhood donation center, does not accept gym equipment. Probably because they also sell coat racks and clothes drying racks, and most people know that you can buy a coat rack or clothes drying rack much cheaper than a NordicTrak which ultimately serves the same purpose.

5) Apartment ghosts linger after 5 years. Look what Alex found behind my bottom bathroom drawer whilst performing a thorough bathroom cleaning, in which I myself wanted no part:

The pen and Barbie CD case are pretty self-explanatory (although I wonder why it ended up in the bathroom). But take a closer look at the note:

DeziRee
STOP
god
STOOPid
lllllluuuuuvvvvv

Oh, what does it all mean? What do you guys think? There’s a prize for the best answer. It’s a… combination NordicTrak / coat rack / clothes dryer*!

*You have to pick it up in Denver, though.

Useless Moving Trivia For Your Reading Pleasure

1. We are living in a warehouse.



2. We sit in camping chairs for meals, movies, blogging, political forecasting, and important financial discussions.
3. We trashed an old chair. Dragging it out to the dumpster, Alex shook out $2.87, which must be really really old because no one ever sat in that thing. It’s more money than we would have gotten if we tried to sell it. Anyway, it’s going for gas money.
4. I can’t pull into the garage without knocking something over with my car / my groceries / my ass.
5. The liquor store guys know us by name. Because we keep asking for boxes. And, um, liquor.
6. We’re getting more creative with meals, trying to use up what’s left in the pantry and fridge. Up next? Tofu stir-fry with a beet-sour kraut-popcorn chutney. For dessert? Oatmeal garnished with canned pineapples, brown sugar, and one Oreo. Who’s coming to dinner?
7. We each have one mug, which we must keep washed at all times in case of unavoidable coffee emergency.
8. We each have one pair of underwear, which we must keep washed at all times in case of unexpected visitors, deliveries, or interactions with people.
9. We’ve started burning scented candles during all waking hours because we don’t want to pack them (and because of #8).

Dumbest Moving-Related Conversations

1. “If someone broke in and destroyed the place after you turned in your keys, you’d have to cover the damages, but what are the chances of that happening?” —Leasing office lady, when asked if we could move out before our lease ends but still pay the full rent.
2. “Well technically someone could take your information and use your old license plate numbers, but what are the chances of that happening?” —DMV lady, telling me that we could come in and fill out the form to cancel our old license plates, but we don’t really have to.
3. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but if you want to use your United travel certificate, you have to go to the airport and book the ticket in person.” —United representative on the process for redeeming the gift certificate they sent to me to “compensate for the inconvenience” of my last flight delay, as if it is more convenient to drive 45 minutes each way to buy a ticket at the airport, which to my knowledge only happens in the movies when someone is chasing down the girl who just boarded a plane to France just so he can confess his love in front of all the other passengers and they can turn around and come back and live happily ever after (the guy and the girl, not the other passengers).

Moving-Related Phrases I Pretended I Didn’t Hear

1. “Hey, are you sure all of this will fit in the truck?”
2. *CRASH* “Ooops. Um, how much did you like that glass thingy? Like, a lot?”
3. “Gas is almost $4/gallon and we’re driving a car and a moving truck.”
4. “Oh, I think I packed that already.”
5. “We should camp in Iowa instead of finding a hotel.” (Hi honey! *waves!*)
6. “The truck only has a tape deck—no CDs.”

Most Challenging Moving Issue To Date

1. I must… not… POP… the bubble wrap! It’s so shiny! It’s so… POP-able! Just look at it—it wants to be popped! Hey, did you know it comes in rolls?



Look at it, would you? I just want to wrap myself in it… make myself a big ol’ bubble-suit, turn myself into a big bubble-mummy, and then roll down the stairs or some—wait, I’ve said too much…



POP POP POP!

*giggle*

We’re pretty much ready, save for all the last-minute admin details, closing of accounts, address changes, etc. That stuff always takes way longer than we plan, but we should be on track for an on-time departure on the 31st. Which is more than I can say for United. Not to bring that up again…

I could write a whole book of poetry on how cold it was, using words like frigid and icewind and hellashiver, but you probably wouldn’t believe me. So, allow me to say it with the following 5-thousand word pictorial essay:

At least the music was good. Drinks, too, from what I remember.

*Hiccup!*
*Covers mouth…*
*Withholds incriminating stories from HP groupie front-lines…*
*Blurs…*

• Sleeping on airport floors.
• Sitting on the jetway for multiple rounds of de-icer.
• Deplaning multiple times. To fly, or not to fly? That is the question.
• Circling Buffalo International Airport for hours, hovering above hurricane-force winds. Look kids, there’s the Big Ben tower!
• Being forced to land in Rochester and taking a bus up north.
• Landing in a blizzard after the airport loses power. Um, are those seriously torches?

But last week’s outbound journey wins the Greatest Antarctic Adventure Ever award.

I’m going to skip all of the horrible details about getting on and off the plane 3 times on account of a supposed dead battery charger (not sure if the pilot was referring to the plane or his iPod, but either way he couldn’t get the part in time and we had to wait for a new plane) and get right to the good stuff.

See, no one ever talks to me in airports or on planes or in lines or in any public settings, like, ever. It’s like I’m wearing headphones. But not. So imagine my surprise when, as I sat on the airport floor awaiting the third round of boarding at DIA, a young man sat across from me and started a conversation! With me! La la la!

• Young Man: Do you have a connection in DC?
• Me: Yes, Buffalo. You?
• YM: Belgium. But that’s only the beginning of the journey. The rest of it, well… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
• Me: I probably would. You should totally tell me.
• YM: It’s a special kind of journey. You can’t get there by plane or even by walking.
• Me: *blink*
• YM: Look. *procures multiple glossy brochures*
• Me: *freaks out a little on inside; yet… strangely intrigued*
• YM: See all these castles? Well, you can’t get in through the doors or windows. You can only get in through a special door in the spirit world. That’s where I’m going.
• Me: *wonders if this is veiled cry for help; looks around for sharp objects*
• YM: Hey, do you want to go to the spirit world with me? We can go right now. Right here in the airport. You and me. *smiles*
• Me: Nah, I’m cool.
• YM: All you have to do is look at this picture and chant with me. *strokes card featuring couple on horse; chants*
• Me: *blink*
• YM: Isn’t the material world frustrating?
• Me: Not really. It could be worse.
• YM: *clearly flustered* Look. Do you want to know about the two most important men in my life? They live in the spirit world. Would you like to hear what they have to say?
• Me: No.
• YM: Okay. I’m sorry I talked to you.

Ohmygod, whatever, Spirit Boy! First person in the history of travel to ever talk to me unprovoked and this is what I get? I’m like Lou Diamond Phillips in Young Guns when all his friends are on some crazy freaking peyote trip. “We’re in the spirit world, asshole. They can’t see us!”

Besides, it’s not that I didn’t want to go to the spirit world—because I kind of did—it’s just that I needed a little more information. Never take a ride with strangers and all that, you know? The brochures. The chanting. The zoned out monotone spell-casting. It was all just a bit creepy as far as recruiting strategies go. And I was about to point out exactly that, offering an alternative marketing plan via a multimedia presentation with cascading bullet points and pie charts, when I noticed a blond woman in black leather (The perfect travel outfit. Hot!) waving at me from across the gate area. I smiled a polite-but-disinterested smile and looked away, grateful for the distraction from Spirit Boy, who was now happily chanting at his horse-people card.

Leather Woman immediately grabbed up her bag and crossed the gate to meet me. Great. Another one! When she arrived exactly in my personal space, I noticed the teetering, and the fumes (speaking of the spirit world). She put her arm around me as if we were old chums which, according to her, we were.

• Leather Woman: Ohmygod, I totally remember you!
• Me: You do?
• LW:: Yes!
• Me: From where?
• LW: Ohmygod! From the bar! *points down terminal; nearly topples*
• Me: I wasn’t at the bar.
• LW: Yes you were. And I remember you. Because I could never forget someone like you. Therefore, I remember you! *ponders the mystery of it all*
• Me: I promise I wasn’t there.
• LW: *looks momentarily disappointed* Oh, okay. Well, you should have been! That’s where we all were! *gestures wildly at other awaiting passengers; almost topples again*
• Me: Cool.
• LW: I know… you should totally go to the bar right now!
• Me: Nah, I’m okay.
• LW: Fine. Well, either way. I will never forget you!
• Me: Awesome. Good luck getting on the plane.

At this point I’m like, please can we get on this fucking plane please please please? And guess what? We did! And after only a 4-hour delay and a near-death experience on the DC to Buffalo prop plane that was doing a little seesaw action on the landing, I arrived in Buffalo just after the airport re-opened from an earlier ice storm. My little brother was there to greet me.

The drummer, Scott? He’s my little brother. When we got to the bar, because what else do you do in a blizzard, he handed me a drink.

• Me: Thanks.
• Rock star baby brother: Don’t be like our other sister, Steve.* Keep up, okay?
• Me: *downs drink in single sip, Buffalo-style; cuts hair into attractive lady-mullet*
• RSBB: Sweet.

I’ve been in the spirit world ever since. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so judgmental.

Does this town ever see the sun? There isn’t enough room in this little blue suitcase for all the layers I need. And what’s up with that “Light Wintry Mix” on Monday? Is that, like, a dance track? A snack food?

And don’t even get me started on the number of days listed in this supposed 10-day forecast. I guess they figure if you’re going to Buffalo in February, all of your brain cells are diverted to the important job of keeping your organs functioning in the cold rather than high-level math.

Personally, I don’t need brain cells on this trip. I’ll warm right up when I start bustin’ my moves for that Light Wintry Mix.

Enche-enche-enche…*

Either way, wish me luck. I don’t have furry snow boots and I’m only bringing one roll-aboard suitcase. Hopefully there is alcohol in my future.

Enche-enche-enche…