Existential Target Crises

I'm proud to announce that in spite of my tendency toward hibernation, I've now left the house three days in a row (oooh!). I didn't go out Monday, even though that was the day of the exercise class I signed up for as a way of forcing myself to go out, because there was a water main break on campus and all classes were cancelled. Tuesday I had to run to the grocery store because I was out of milk and sugar and almost out of tea, so it was a real crisis situation (well, I was out of one kind of tea, but I probably could have survived a few more weeks on other teas, though not without milk and sugar). Wednesday night I had choir practice, and today I went to Target to get supplies for my personal "Yay! It's raining!" party I'm planning to have tomorrow, based on the forecast and today's cloud cover.

But while I was in Target, I was struck suddenly by a strange, strong sense of yearning, like there was something just out of reach that I desperately wanted and needed, and that having it would make me happy, but I had no idea what it was. I thought I might have found it on the salty snacks aisle, but then I remembered that I hadn't eaten lunch and might have just been hungry. It wasn't on the cookie or candy aisle, either. And it didn't involve shoes, but that could have been because the entire shoe section seemed to be on clearance, so all they had were fives and elevens. I finally convinced myself it was a yearning to get this book written, so I came home.

I seem to have all of my existential and emotional crises in Target, and I don't know what that says about me. If you're ever in a Target and come upon someone standing in front of the lip gloss display, weeping and saying, "But what does it all mean?" that's probably me.

I took my first steps toward promoting the next book today, buying an ad in a publication that goes to booksellers and librarians. That required writing ad copy (well, actually, just modifying the catalog copy for the book). Then I set about trying to get an artwork release from the publisher so I could get bookmarks printed. That ended up being enough drama that I remembered why I never got around to professionally printed stuff on the last book. Both publisher and printer tend to go into extreme CYA mode. Meanwhile, I've started receiving requests for review copies from magazines, so that's kind of cool. They aren't necessarily magazines I've heard of, but if someone other than Mom reads them, it can't help but expand the number of people who've heard of me.