It’s So Cool To Have Options!
I love hearing from my Muse. At least I love hearing her reactions to my writing: “thrilling,” she tells me, “inspiring, magical!” At the end of these accolades she adds, “New York Times bestseller list.”
By that she means find a traditional publisher such as Random House. Or maybe Hay House, which publishes books on spirituality. She has a connection who has connections. She is going to court this person. Persistently.
Meanwhile, in addition to a member of my writing group handing me the ‘How To Blog a Book’ book, other people are just kind of showing up and offering to help me in other ways: a webmaster, a person with experience in self-publishing…
My position is to remain open to serendipity. Since the Muse is having trouble getting a date with her connection and the person who has the self-publishing know-how is suddenly too busy to help me, I go with the webmaster who is ready and willing to show me how to blog.
Back at the ranch, by which I mean the potluck, Ada has just put her stamp of approval on Rita’s mac and cheese from a box.
Say what?!! The mistress of ceremonies apparently was not being sarcastic, but there was no time for Renee to ask a question or make a comment because Ada had more to tell: “Justin has an orchard, so the apples and pears are from him and the fine Russian caviar is from Fuller. Phil made the soup from tomatoes he cans from his summer garden, and the nuts are from his pecan tree.”
This time her smile had a twinkle. “So appropriate, you know, since Phil Ossifer is a person who speculates on everything, from soup to nuts.”
Renee was on the precipice of an Alice in Wonderland moment, but there was no time for pondering names and puns since Ada was relentless about giving everyone proper credit. “Reese made the goat cheese in her lab. It took her years to perfect the recipe. Sir John brought the mushrooms from France where he recently went on an expedition with truffle-hunting pigs. And last, but certainly not least, Dee made the tea cakes. Before she found her chosen career of exotic dancing, she was a pastry chef at the Ritz.”
Dizzy from the recitation and a vain attempt to remember how all the names fit with the faces, vocations and food contributions, Renee concentrated on putting a little of everything on her plate except for the macaroni and cheese, which had never been one of her favorites. Balancing the heavy platter in one hand, she picked up a bowl of soup with the other and made her way back to the dining room.
There Ada had abdicated her M.C. duties for the moment and was deeply engaged in an intimate conversation with Sir John. Renee observed that Ada’s plate held nothing but a large helping of Rita’s mac and cheese.
The room turned quiet as everyone attended to their meal, and then Ada suddenly laughed and said, “I’m sorry! In the presence of this bounty”—she swept her hand in the direction of her own plate—“I almost forgot the purpose of our meeting.