Real You: Expecting the unexpected

     One of the lessons I've learned during the three-plus months I've spent promoting HERE, HOME, HOPE is that you can never predict book events. Sometimes there is a great crowd, other times, it's crickets. Just me, a stack of my books and my trusty signing pen. Those events tend to feel the longest, but looking back, I may have made the best connections. I know I had the most laughs. And ultimately, I hope I've made friends for life. The smaller the crowd, the deeper the potential for connection. Yes, this is the bright side speaking but it's true.      As I wrote in Real You Incorporated, you always learn more from the hurdles, once you jump them. In Louisville, at the Anchorage Barnes & Noble, my signing was at 5:30 p.m. When I arrived, posters adorned the doors and walls promoting an event that night, but not mine. It was for the author who was arriving at 7:30. I was the warm-up act, I suppose, but that's alright - at least I had my foot in the door! In East Sandwich, MA,  where I had a designated "drop in" (a meet and greet to beg for the store to consider carrying the book) the store owner stood above me on the stairs and - in front of several customers - said no, she wouldn't consider carrying my book. I was exhausted, and it was the final stop of the tour so I was glad I didn't burst into tears in front of her as I scurried out the door! I'd survived the snark attack.   

     Oh, and speaking of attacks and expecting the unexpected in life, I did enjoy some beach time in Nantucket during the tour. As we set up our umbrella and chairs, pulled out our books, I smiled and scanned the horizon. Next thing I know, close to the beach, a fin appeared. This fin was big, and it was darting - almost as if a person was swimming underwater pretending to be a shark. But this wasn't pretend. As the shark leaped out of the water and attacked the seal it was stalking, we watched speechless. The life guards cleared the water, and at first, told us it was a dolphin.

     I'm a big fan of Shark Week. I know my sharks and this was no dolphin. 

     When the head lifeguard arrived, he told us they thought it was a sand shark. I'm not sure, but that night, during Shark Week, the show was about the resurgence of Great Whites near Chatham, in Cape Cod, due to the repopulation of seals - their favorite food.  We saw a lot of seals in the waters around Nantucket, just saying.  

     The point? Book tours are a reflection of life. There are the highs - so many great experiences, fun interactions with readers and book store staff - and some lows, complete with snarks, too. But probably the best part of being on a book tour is having the opportunity to talk about my love of reading and writing with others who share that same passion.

     This summer has been an amazing gift - one that I'll remember forever. More on the unusual next post!

Real You: Chronicles of the travelling Wedding Plant

An added benefit of my recent almost two-week long Here, Home, Hope Book Tour was a stop back "home", in Columbus, Ohio. During a book signing at Loot, a great shop in happening Short North retail and cultural district, I was reunited with my Wedding Plant. One of my best friends, Kathy, had been watching over my precious spider plant for the two years since we'd moved to California. As she wiped a tear and handed over the 22-year-old spider plant, which was flourishing under her care, she said, "It's the last piece of you I have here. I'm really attached to her." (Kathy is on the right with my other friend Molly.)

It's easy to grow attached the The Wedding Plant, as countless folks have during the book tour. Here is its story: The wedding plant originated as a tiny spider plant that was part of my green and white wedding bouquet 21 years ago. My mother, an avid gardener with a bright green thumb, plucked the unsuspecting spider from my bouquet just before I tossed it per custom to all the single ladies.

Mom returned home that night, planted the little spider, and helped it grow for the next five years. I had no idea she'd even thought to do this. On our 5th Wedding Anniversary, she presented the plant to my husband and I.

Through the ensuing years - including four babies, two cats, three dogs, many jobs, snowstorms, two different houses, two birds, and all that life will throw your way - the wedding plant has flourished. Sure, some years it looked a little pale. Other years, it had offshoots galore, growing and thriving with gusto.

But most importantly, it survived. And with its survival, it became more than just a plant, it has become symbolic of the struggles and joys of a long-term relationship, of the need for its care and feeding, of the need to nurture and cherish it.

And that's why everywhere I went during this leg of the Here, Home, Hope Book Tour - from Columbus, to Cincinnati, to Louisville, to Nashville and Memphis, to Eureka Springs and Oklahoma City and Albuquerque - the Wedding Plant came with me. Literally, creating a whole new set of rules for travelling in the summer with the Wedding Plant.

Did you know it's hot out there? When travelling with a wedding plant it's essential to gas up only at stations with shade. For a lunch break lasting longer than 10 minutes, the wedding plant must come inside. When stacking the luggage cart for the night's stop, it is critical the wedding plant is nestled securely amongst the luggage. And during the drive, the wedding plant needs light and air and a protected spot in the back seat.

Seriously, it was almost as intense as travelling with an infant. (Almost.) In Nashville, the Wedding Plant enjoyed a view of the Parthenon, while in Eureka Springs she had her own coffee table. During a stop in Memphis my husband had a lunch meeting, so the Wedding Plant had to come inside Boscos, too. The friendly hostess took care of it while we ate. When temperatures rose to 109 degrees outside, but we wanted to see the Oklahoma City National Memorial, we took turns at the site so someone could stay inside the car, air conditioning running, with the Wedding Plant.

The plant may have saved us from a speeding ticket outside of Tulsa, as the Sheriff enjoyed the story and let us off with a warning. She survived the ghosts of The Crescent Hotel and the blistering heat of the Painted Desert truck stop. Most of all, she is now where she belongs. At home, and hopefully happily growing and thriving for another 25 years.