The Importance of Horticultural Nomenclature

I was in the examining room of Dr S, my most excellent osteopath, where he was going over the X-ray and lab reports from my hospital stay. First he asked me about my broken arm, then ribs, nose, rest of face and mouth.

Then: "How's your bush?

"My WHAT?" I was sure I had misheard.

"Your bush. How's your bush?"

I couldn't believe my ears. I'd never heard anything remotely vulgar from Dr S, a soft-spoken teddy bear whose receptionist wife was seated just steps outside the door. Besides, even if he was being crude, I was uninjured below the waist, so he had no reason to inquire about my nether regions.

"YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW MY BUSH IS DOING?" I was fairly spluttering.

Pause.

"Yeah, you know--that little plant I brought you in the hospital."

I must have looked stunned. He added, "I didn't mean that bush!"

"Well, I was sort of wondering..." I said. "Anyway, it's a topiary ivy, not a bush!"

"OK, whatever," he said. "But wasn't it cute?"

We laughed so hard I thought I'd split my upper lip again.

It's Alive!

That "it" would be me, of course. For a few days, I looked a lot more like an it than a she (though I quickly learned to look in the mirror as seldom as possible). Actually, what I most looked like was an actor in a horror movie that won an Oscar for best makeup. I had no idea that one could get eye bags that puff out a half-inch. Live and learn...

For the record, I fell off a horse named Gomez while trotting without stirrups. I'd done such an exercise many times before, though never on Gomez, whom I was riding for only the 2nd time. Guess I should have spoken French (hey, it worked for Morticia); instead I lost my balance and pitched off to the right, smashing my body onto the hard ground and the side of my face against a metal-pipe fencepost. [Edit: He threw me. Hard. I couldn't have gotten such extensive injuries otherwise.] I remember starting to fall and thinking, Oh s**t! I'm going to hit that metal fence! And then the next thing I knew I was hearing loud helicopter sounds (Wow! Just like in "Apocalypse Now"!) but couldn't see anything because my eyes were bloodied shut. (Regional trivia: in Colorado, it's called "Flight for Life," not "Med-Evac"; and rubbernecking drivers by traffic accidents are called "curiosity stoppers.") Fortunately for me, also taking riding lessons at the same time were a physician and an emergency room nurse, so I was expertly attended to from the minute I hit the ground.

I was in the MTU ("multiple trauma unit" but to me it was Empty you!) at Swedish Medical Center for a week--the longest I'd ever been in a hospital. I have quite an impressive set of injuries, if I do say so myself: concussion (and that was with my wearing a strong, well-padded helmet); broken right humerus, 2 floating ribs, nose, right eyebrow, maxillary sinuses, hard palate; loosened top front tooth that will probably need root canal; rearranged bite that may require braces (Sigh...I'd already done braces in my mid-20s!)

My G.P. commented the other day, "Well, you're going to have quite the social life getting all this taken care of!" Indeed, but it's no comparison to the one I'm giving up for the next 2 months: BookExpo in DC next week (SOB!), biz trip to NY and Book Promotion 101 workshop in LA in June.

Still, things could have been So Much Worse. I'm extremely grateful and happy to be alive, relatively well and unlikely to need any major surgery. Plus, my nose, which always tilted to the right (and which I had indeed broken when I fell in March), now lines up more plumb in the center of my face. Call it a benefit of Impromptu Equestrian Rhinoplasty.

Fun multi-culti hospital event:
On May 5, with each meal tray I received a little red card in the shape of a sombrero that read, "Happy Cinco de Mayo from your Swedish volunteers!" Sure made my blenderized eggs and Jell-o go down easier.

Most important of all:
My most heartfelt thanks for all the messages of concern and healing wishes. They mean the world to me.

She Lived With Her Boots Off

Here's an update on Bella:

She's made great progress during the week, but has a long way to go. Still don't know if she'll have surgery -- there's a possibility it won't be necessary. And she comes home tomorrow night. Expected recovery time is 8-10 weeks. Despite the breaks, bruises and a concussion, she is in good spirits most of the time, has sharp thinking (except sometimes from pain meds) and her sense of humor.

She's been at Swedish Medical Center, and we've been very pleased with the staff there. This is true: on one shift yesterday her nurse's name was Madonna and the tech's name wasBritney (not sure of spelling). No sign of Guy Ritchie or Kevin Federline, however.

Eric

What do Bella and Madonna have in Common?

This is Bella's "Darling Husband" writing (and I can't express how much I love being referred to that way!)...

Bella suffered a fall (but she doesn't suffer fools) while horse-riding yesterday. She'll be fine, but has several broken bones and bruises. She's in hospital, is cogent and dictating "to-do" items, one of which was to post this message. Surgery is still a question mark, so I don't know how long she'll be in -- probably several days to a week, and then plenty of time at home.

What do Bella and Madonna have in common? Did you think I was referring to Madonna's spill last year from a horse, resulting in broken bones? No, it's that they're both beautiful and look younger than their years.

Eric

When a Publicist Works Too Hard...

Sometimes all you can do is shake your head in disbelief. I offer the "Snark Attack!" in Lloyd Grove's column in today's NY Daily News:

Tonight's the second night of Passover - so it's hard to believe that even the most hapless publicist would send out a press release offering up Bill Downs, "one of the world's foremost experts on diet and nutrition," to discuss "the unspoken dark side" of the Seder: "Flatulence, irritable bowels, heartburn ... are common Passover conditions," Downs' flack explains. "Instead of reflecting on the Jewish people's exodus from Egypt, we end up struggling to contain the exodus of gas." Sadly, I have been assured that this release is not a hoax.

Who Let the Jews Out?

That's the musical question posed in the hilarious animated Passover greeting on the website for Sam Apple's equally hilarious--and poignant--book, SCHLEPPING THROUGH THE ALPS: My Search for Austria's Jewish Past with Its Last Wandering Shepherd.

Apple was on my "Travel with a Twist" panel last month at the VaBook Festival. I bought the hardcover as a birthday present for Darling Husband last year. It's now out in paperback.

Cogito Zero Sum

If for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, then there's someone out there who's been inordinately healthy the past couple of months. Because I have been inordinately unhealthy. Since early February, I have had pneumonia, shingles, an upper respiratory infection and, as of yesterday evening, the stomach flu. (It came on while I was putting the finishing touches on our Passover dinner. I had one sip of wine and a mini-bite of matzoh before going to bed.) Also, between the shingles and infection I fell and apparently cracked the bone at the bridge of my nose.

This being Passover, all I can say is DAYENU*!!!

The only bright side to all this (relatively speaking) is that, thanks to the Levaquin I took for the URI plus the flu, I've lost 10 lbs in the past 10 days. I do not, however, recommend this as a weight-loss method.

Edit: It was food poisoning, not flu. It's going to be a long time before I get my lunch again from the self-serve bar at the supermarket. At least I got a $30 gift card for my pains. The manager said he was sorry for "any inconvenience." I told him that this was way more than inconvenient.

*ENOUGH

The cup half-full

From Publishers Marketplace Deal Lunch:

Cathy Bueti's BREASTLESS IN THE CITY, a young woman's journey through diagnosis, treatments, dating and surviving breast cancer, to Larry Chilnick at Cleveland Clinic Press, by Coleen O'Shea of Allen O'Shea Literary Agency.

If we're going to reference a TV show in a book about breast cancer, I have an infinitely better title:

THE YOUNG AND THE BREASTLESS

Remember you saw it here first, folks.

Stringing words together is hard

For those who think that anyone can write a short story, let me point you to the entries in Miss Snark's writing contest. The rules (see her April 2 post) were simple: 500 words max; extra points for using a list of 6 words & 5 phrases. Miss Snark apparently was overcome by the number of responses: 100+ in less than 24 hours. Though I think if she'd kept her head out of the gin pail, she'd have seen that her legions of adoring fans (her blog has had more than a half-million visitors since last July) would leap to the challenge. And quite a challenge it is, as you can see from the varying quality of the entries, which Miss Snark posted unedited. (Reminder: Spell check doesn't catch homonyms.) Fortunately, there are few clinkers. Some of the stories are stunningly imaginative and several are laugh-out-loud funny. Darling Husband and I shared a half-hour of domestic bliss yesterday evening, during which he prepared his famous Tofu Surprise while I read him some of my favorites.

VaBook III - More Fabu Fotos

From dinner on Saturday with a much smaller crew (6 instead of 13) at Southern Culture...

(right) Victor Navasky of The Nation and writer Deirdra McAfee.

(below) Mr. GalleyCat himself.









Earlier in the day, writer Digby Diehl and I snuck off to Keswick Hall, an Orient Express property, for a blissfully serene High Tea amongst The Quality Set (gotta love the screaming red UVa Cavalier-printed pants and not-quite-matching yellow golf sweater sported by one of the guests). Here we are, stuffed on scones and all sorts of other goodies.










It's not much, but we call it home...(I wish!)

VaBook Festival II - Fab Fotos

Ron Hogan of GalleyCat wasn't the only person wielding a camera in Charlottesville last weekend. Here are some pix I brought home in my trusty Canon PowerShot.

From dinner on Friday over "comfort food with a twist" at Escafe...

(below) Novelist Melanie Lynne Hauser.




(right) Novelist Masha Hamilton and Robert Gray of Fresh Eyes Now.




(left) YA author Sharon Baldacci regales novelists Daniela Kuper and Judi Hendricks with a funny story.



(right) Novelist Leora Skolkin-Smith.




(below) Novelist Lynn Isenberg and David Kipen, author & NEA Literature Director.

VaBook Festival I

Well, I needn't have obsessed about that closeup (or maybe someone at CSPAN read the post below), as BookTV didn't show up to tape my "Journalism Then & Now" panel last Saturday--though they interviewed panelist Victor Navasky earlier in the day. Unfortunately, Margo Jefferson of the NYT was ill and couldn't attend, but Digby Diehl, Stephen Farnsworth and Navasky held down the fort with panache and passion.

Farnsworth observed that TV news these days focuses more on car chases, celebrities and the weather than on important events and issues. And he's obviously right, as there were maybe 50 in the audience, whereas an earlier panel on weather in the same venue had a crowd of 200+ spilling out the doors. What Mark Twain noted is still true, though: "Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it."

During the Q&A session, someone asked about the "liberal bias" of public television. Farnsworth quickly flipped through his book, THE MEDIATED PRESIDENCY, and cited statistics showing that coverage on "The News Hour" was no more positive for Clinton than Bush. (I just love a man--or woman--with facts at his fingertips!) In essence, the media aren't any more "liberal" now; it's public perception that has changed. And as we know, perception almost always trumps reality.

"It's the Writing, Stupid"

That was my response to a question from an aspiring writer at my "From Manuscript to Cash Register" panel on Saturday at the VaBook Festival. As I explained to her, I in no way meant to demean her intelligence. However, like far too many wannabes, she was focusing on extraneous details rather than on what matters most: her writing. In her case, she was obsessing over cover art, illustrations and a marketing plan. Others--and you can see them in droves at Miss Snark's and Kristin Nelson's blogs, and elsewhere--waste countless bytes fretting over whether query letters should be in Times Roman or Courier, or if an agent will be put off by extra stamps on an envelope because postage rates went up. (I wish I was making this up!)

As I said to the 200-odd people in the audience--many of them studiously taking notes--whether you're a reviewer (as I am); or an agent, editor, publisher or bookseller, as were the panelists*, every time you crack open a galley or manuscript you want to be entranced by the writing; the rest is just gravy. Make us cry, make us laugh, thrill us, scare us--but make us fall in love with your writing.


*Simon Lipskar, Writers House agent; Starling Lawrence, editor-in-chief, WW Norton; Catharine Lynch, assoc. publisher, Putnam/Riverhead; and Robert Gray, Fresh Eyes Now.

I'm Ready for My Closeup--Just Don't Get Too Close

Fortunately my nose-to-the-windowsill incident last Sunday didn't result in a black eye (or two)--though the doctor did say to Darling Husband, "When are you going to stop beating your wife?" The doctor told me to use Liquid Bandage on the cut--another of the great inventions of the 20th century, along with penicillin, oil-filled electric radiators and rope caulk. But I do have this prominent (to me, anyway) scab on the bridge of my nose and I discovered yesterday that Liquid Bandage is not very compatible with cover stick. The Show Must Go On, though; I'm just hoping that the Book TV cameraman won't be zooming in for any super-tight shots at today's "Journalism Then & Now" panel at the VaBook Fesival. I just checked the Book TV schedule and, unlike in previous years, they're not running any events live. Hmmpf!

Don't hold the phone!

Date: Wed., March 22 -- though it could be any day in the current century.

Location: Airport ladies' room, Charlotte, NC -- though it could be any city in the U.S.

Heard from the next stall: Tinkle tinkle, Ring ring, tinkle tinkle, ring..."Hello?...Oh hi, Linda! How are you?...I'm fine, I'm in the ladies' room at the airport. I'm peeing [tittering laughter]. As soon as I'm done, I'm going to get my baggage and go home...Yeah, I'll call you when I get there...OK, bye."

Please, could we all agree (the sooner the better) that:
1) Just because you can use the phone everywhere doesn't mean you should use it in the can.
2) Some activities should remain private.

Hey, Kids: Let's Play Spot the Allusion!

Coming soon to the small screen, a new animated series being produced by National Geographic:

Aimed at kids ages 6-11, "Iggy Arbuckle" follows the misadventures of a hiking, climbing, singing, thrill-seeking "nature-freak" pig and his faithful sidekick Jiggers, a high-spirited, fast-talking, industrious beaver. Together, the pair enjoy (and sometimes barely survive) incredible escapades in the Kookamunga wilderness as they brave hot, sticky swamps, tropical rain forests, off-kilter critters, eccentric wildlife and other natural phenomena that are anything but natural. (2005 press release)

Now, let's see...Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle (photo above) was a silent-screen comedian whose thrill-seeking misadventures included a drunken party over Labor Day 1921 that culminated in the death of starlet Virginia Rappe. Arbuckle was arrested and tried--3 times!--for her death. He was ultimately exonerated, but his career tanked and he died in 1933, just after filming a comeback role in the Vitaphone short, "In the Dough."

As my anonymous correspondent noted: "No jiggers there; Fatty likely drank straight from the bottle." Therefore, in light of this history, I suggest that Jiggers the beaver be renamed.

How about Ginny? No...wait...

Ooh, I've got it! Here's one that today's groovy kids will really dig: Rapper!

Should've Stayed in Bed

I woke up at 6:30 this morning (not on purpose; I was exhausted from cleaning house for the first time in 6 weeks and had gone to bed early). My slippers were across the room, and as I shuffled around in the gloom trying to get them on, I lost my balance. I grabbed hold of Darling Husband's little wooden desk chair, and for a split second thought I was OK. But no, the chair toppled over and I pitched forward, smacking the bridge of my nose on the windowsill. ("What nice big windows," I exclaimed when I first viewed the house. "And look how low the sills are!") Next I heard breaking glass: the top of my head had smashed into the window pane.

"Wha-wha-what's going on," Darling Husband asked groggily. (He'd gone to a concert and hadn't gotten to bed till 1 a.m.) I told him and he bounded over to inspect the damage--with slippers on, as he always has his by the bed.

Fortunately, we have long, thick curtains, so I didn't hit bare wood; or worse, glass. Still, I had an almost half-inch gash on the bony peak of my nose. (Good thing I wasn't wearing my glasses; also that they're wire-rimmed, so the bridge sits above the cut instead of on it.) Ten minutes later, instead of sipping tea and reading the Sunday paper, I was back in bed with a Band-aid on my nose and an ice pack on my face, while Darling Husband picked up glass inside and out.

So now I have a sore nose and a roaring headache. I'm fervently praying that I don't end up with black eyes, as I'm moderating four panels at the Virginia Festival of the Book next weekend, one of which is going to be taped by Book TV. In the meantime, I might be investing in some pancake makeup--or a veil.

Moral: Keep your slippers by your bedside and never get up any earlier than you have to.

In the Mood for Chinese?

I laughed so hard I nearly cried when I read the menu and commentary at Rahoi.com, by an American living in China. Here's a taste:

black bowel and cowboy leg? Add candlelight and you have yourself a date.

Thanks to Susan Ito at ReadingWritingLiving!

And the prize for misleading headline goes to...

OK, how would you interpret the banner hed below? It topped a half-page ad for Volvo in today's Denver Post (just below a review of "V for Vendetta").

Swedish Automaker Linked

to Nation's Overpopulation

If your mind runs along the same elevated track as mine, you immediately start thinking of passionate couples taking advantage of the Volvo wagon's roomy interior. (Darling Husband's response when I showed him the ad: "People really like to fuck in their cars.") And then you think, "Hey, wait a minute! Sweden isn't overpopulated!"

And then you read this inane and ungrammatical pseudo-reportage:

IRVINE, Ca. -- With people living longer than ever and the US population continuing to climb at alarming rates [I agree; there are way too many mountaineers], some experts are pointing to Swedish automaker, Volvo, and their obsession with safety as a root cause of this trend.

Translation: Too many people is a bad thing, and Volvo is responsible for the badness. Therefore...you should drive an unsafe car in order to trim the surplus population. Call it "vehicular eugenics."

WHAT??!!!

That's what I shrieked when I got to the paragraph below, in a WWD story headlined “Borrowed Memories.” Seems that former London fashion writer Emily Davies signed a $900K (!) deal with Simon & Schuster for her memoir, How to Wear Black: Adventures on Fashion’s Front Line, pitched as “a cross between The Devil Wears Prada and How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.” Problem is, WWD discovered that none of the several fashionistas cited in Davies' proposal have any recollection of meeting her. Further, her quotes from those encounters appear to have been lifted from “The Glamour Girl’s Guide to Life,” a 1998 New York Times article by Monique P. Yazigi.

Davies, who reportedly departed The Times of London last year amid an inquiry into her expenses, responded to WWD’s questions with a statement defending her actions in the proposal. Saying it was “not intended for public consumption,” Davies claimed, in effect, that it was easier for her to give prospective publishers the flavor of her memoir by appropriating other writers’ words than by relying on her own memories. “The first thing I did when I began putting together my proposal…was to dig out a mass of notes, cuttings and stories I had assembled over the years.…Although I used these notes in the proposal, there would be no question of my using any unoriginal material in my finished book.”

As the Brits would say: Pull the other leg; it's got bells on it.