I said I'd try to post more, and so, here's an update on some of the problems I posted about way back when:

First, and most importantly, there have been no further mouse sightings. I did spot one in the basement of the building, but honestly: does anybody believe a basement exists in New York that doesn’t contain mice?

That said, it’s getting cold in the city, and that means the mice start moving indoors. But fear not—I’ve come up with a master plan to scare them off. What is my master plan, you might ask? The answer is, of course, a KITTEN! To my great joy, we moved a little girl into our apartment last weekend. Her name is Lyra (after Pullman’s His Dark Materials, naturally). She is super cute, 9 weeks old now, and so full of energy. As I type this, she is curled up around my neck, purring her little heart out. I have no doubt I’ll be posting about her at length, but for now, here is her picture:



Notice, for scale, how tiny she is compared to the tail next to her. (That tail belongs to Jack, a one-year-old cat belonging to my brother’s girlfriend. Sweetest cat in existence, no exaggeration.)

Aside from that…well, that bed I posted about buying in March is still awesome. My running regimen is going well. Wet jeans remain at the top of my Most Hated list. I still am not getting enough high fives in my daily life.

[It does occur to me that I would make a great baseball player. Not because physical dexterity and hand-eye coordination are my greatest strengths (they’re not), but because I have to tell you: I’m really great at high fives. And what do baseball players do when they’ve made a meaningful contribution to the game? They go back to the dugout and they high five EVERYBODY ON THE TEAM. Or at least that’s what the Phillies do.]

Before I go: I’m really in the mood for some great Victorian-set fiction. I’m rereading Libba Bray’s Gemma Doyle series, which I love, but would like something new if anybody can think of any offhand…


CURRENTLY READING: Just finished Kristin Cashore’s FIRE (highly recommended!), Michelle Cooper's A BRIEF HISTORY OF MONTMARAY, assorted submissions

Wow. I can only imagine how devastated you’ve all surely been in my absence these past months. So, where have I been? I don’t really have a good answer. My summer was sort of baffling: it was mostly good, but the bad parts were, well, bad. I’m generally pretty healthy, but I had an astounding assortment of illnesses this summer.

It started in July, when I discovered an Indian Meal Moth infestation in my kitchen. It was…ugh. I can’t even talk about it. Has any reader experienced this?

In any event, I spent a horrible Sunday trying to get rid of the infestation. Then, that same evening, I suddenly and inexplicably developed VERTIGO, of all things. I was fine all day, then around 6PM had a mild dizzy spell. By 9, I couldn’t even walk across the room. Scary stuff. And the worst part is that there’s nothing to be done about vertigo—you just have to wait it out. I didn’t realize that at first, of course. I thought I was dying. It didn’t help when I faceplanted in my doctor’s waiting room.

As if an insect infestation plus vertigo wasn’t bad enough, two days later I had to travel to Washington, DC for the RWA National conference. I am here to tell you that vertigo does NOT enhance the RWA experience. That said, I was in what became known as the “Vegas Suite” during the conference (consisting of myself, Heather Osborn, Sarah and Candy from Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, Jane from Dear Author, Angela James, and author Jill Myles). That kind of crowd can make up for a lot. I’m grateful to them for helping me through a damned difficult week.

Honestly, I was sure that week would be the worst of my year, hands down. I discovered I was totally wrong about a month later, when I got hit with the most painful experience of my life in the form of kidney stones. I won’t really go into how horrible it was, but I will say that it lasted just short of two weeks, the drugs took off the edge but didn’t stop the pain, and I’ve never felt anything like it. Jane Lindskold told me that her mother had four children, natural childbirth, and said kidney stones compared unfavorably–and you don’t get a baby to hold at the end. Yep. Sounds about right.

So, when I think about my summer, those are the things that come to mind. There were good things, too—BEA was great, I read a ton of wonderful books, took in some baseball games, and I had the opportunity to go to some great movie screenings, to name a few things. But that’s what I’ve been up to, in a nutshell.

Anyway. I’m going to make a solid attempt to update this thing more. But now I’m off to finish a submission (a good submission, even!) before bed.

Before I go—anybody read anything really astounding recently? I particularly appreciate YA recommendations! ;)


CURRENTLY READING: Cherie Priest's Boneshaker, James Daschner's The Maze Runner, assorted submissions

You know what would be really great?

High fives.

More of them.

Here is an example of how my life is fucked up and unfair.

Today - even though we knew we shouldn't - Blair and I decided to order Thai because we didn't want to walk three blocks to the grocery store. The food was delicious, but we were punished for our laziness. See, a few days ago I was putting our trash in the stairwell when a mouse came running out from behind the trash can and scared the shit out of me. But it was sort of ok, because it was in the stairwell, not my apartment. When the delivery guy showed up with our food, he somehow managed to unintentionally corral the (or, a) mouse down the hall. When I opened the door to receive the delivery, a horrified scream from my roommate alerted me to the fact that the mouse had run INTO our apartment, past my bare feet, and behind our kitchen stove. GOD DAMN IT! Talk about unfair!

For the past, oh, five months, Blair and I have worked tirelessly to block off all possible holes that the mice could be using to get into our apartment. We are reasonably sure that we found all of them, and that the mice are no longer able to get in...except through the damned door, piece of shit goddamn it! So now, assuming that we are correct in our belief that we closed up all the mouseholes, the stupid thing is trapped in our kitchen. Son of a bitch!

You know, every time we go a while without seeing a mouse, I start to get cocky and I tell myself how, if I ever see another mouse in the apartment, I'll be cool this time. Every time, I am dead wrong.

ps excuse my french

I know I have been sucking at blogging (this is because I am so goddamn boring that even I fall asleep when I try to read my past entries), but here I am because I simply MUST tell you all about the friggin terrifying dream I had last night. Here is what happened:

I was shopping at the mall with my boyfriend, the man we all know in the waking world as Ashton Kutcher (???). In my dream his name was Reed, and also Pete. Anyway, Reed/Pete and I were about to purchase a Phillies sweatshirt when Dan (brother of my friend Bridget and who, by the way, I have never actually met in person) randomly came running up to me to tell me that "the game" had started and I needed to hide IMMEDIATELY. Dan and I hightailed it to the employees only section of the store, where we met up with Pierce (Blair's brother, who I have actually met) and Steve (Blair's boyfriend). They explained to me that there was this big "game" going on. The object of the game? Kill Melissa Frain. the hell???

Both Bridget and Blair were playing the game, along with several of my coworkers and a handful of really effing creepy zombified Disney Princesses. But Dan, Pierce, and Steve had decided to coach me through and help me survive, since they'd be able to predict Bridget and Blair's strategies and also they didn't want me to be murdered. Unfortunately, they kind of sucked. I spent the next few dream hours being relentlessly pursued throughout the mall by a flamethrower-wielding Bridget and a chainsaw-wielding Blair, plus those other people. My only respite was when Dan had the one good idea of the day, which was to send a Death Alert to the mall announcers to trick everybody into thinking I had already been killed. But then Bridget found me and set my fingernails on fire. Yeah.

Eventually, Steve (who was the most useless survival coach of them all) had a brilliant idea that we would hide in plain sight. Dream Me totally thought it would work (ugh, so stupid), so I was trying to inconspicuously browse some boxers (...) when the big twist of the dream was revealed: I looked up and my boyfriend was standing over me with this evil grin, about to bash my face in with a hanger! Reed/Pete was playing the game too!

I wish I could tell you what ended up happening.

Also, is Daylight Savings really necessary? I mean, really?

An incredibly wonderful weekend: on Valentine's Day, Blair and I photocopied our faces, after which I trekked to Queens and baked cookies with Kristin, then swapped them at Liz's. Sunday, did the nothingest amount of nothing you could ever imagine. And today...today I got up at a reasonable hour, had a great run in beautiful-weather-graced Central Park (back up to 25 minutes without walking--I'm finally starting to feel normal again), cleaned the apartment, BOUGHT A BED, did laundry, and had cornmeal waffles and bacon for dinner courtesy of Blair and Steve.

But let's back up a minute...you might wonder why buying a bed was such a great event that it warranted caps lock. When Blair and I moved out of the East Village last year, we lost the screws that held my bed/futon together (spoiler: they were in our friend's pocket). Soon after, Sara (princesslo) visited. During a dramatic reading of the reissued Sweet Valley High books, I got so excited that I jumped on my improperly constructed bed and...broke it. For serious, broken.

So for 10 months(ish), I have been sleeping on a broken bed. We're waiting for the night that it collapses and Blair has to come running and extract me from the wreckage. We've agreed that I will whistle when it happens so she knows I'm in trouble. (Potential problem: my whistling has in the past been compared to a "gloomy wavering teakettle" and "the wind blowing through a graveyard at night.")

My fate rests on my questionable whistling ability. Something to think about.

But now, at long last, a new bed is in my future! Upon laying down on it, I decreed that it was the greatest mattress in the history of mattresses--an impressive accomplishment. It will be delivered on Sunday, after I enjoy brunch at Norma's.

In other great news, I got tickets to an advance screening of FIRED UP on Thursday. It's about football stars who join the cheerleading squad. Should be a quality film. Advance, free, and awful. Can't beat that.

I despise winter.

It contains many of the things I hate most--snow and the wet jeans it results in, hardly any daylight, extreme coldness, etc. Many of you have already heard my snow rant. Plus I always feel sort of big and sluggish and out of shape, particularly in January and February. My morning run has been thwarted by ice and snow multiple times now.And there's nothing worse than leaving the office at 5:30 and having it already be completely dark outside.

So here is what I would like to have happen instead (year round): 40 to 50 degrees from about 6 to 9am, so that I can run in optimum comfort. 60 to 70 the rest of the day. No snow, no ice, no rain except directly over fields, farmland, patches of grass, etc. I might allow some snow on special occasions, but only during times when I'm able to run over to Central Park and play in it. Then, when I'm done, I'm gonna need it to all go away immediately. And finally, the sun will come out no later than 6am and stay out until, say, 8:30pm.

That is what I would like, so if somebody could please get on that, that would be great.

God, I fail at blogging.

My journey home from work today was filled with things that I hate (snow, wet jeans, personal space invaders, stuck-together plastic bags, overpriced groceries, slippery sidewalks, and more!). By the time I got to my building, I must have looked p-r-e-t-t-y upset, because Jose (doorman) looked truly alarmed when he saw me. Then he called me Snow White, which I thought was nice.

In other bad news territory, I have not been on my morning run in something like three weeks (with the exception of maybe one day per week, but the point is I have abandoned the routine that I was following so faithfully). I had a genius idea last night to ensure that I would get up on time this morning. See, the idea was, I'd put my alarm clock next to my TV so that I would have to get out of bed to turn it off. And once I was up, I would surely stay up and go for my run, right? Right! Wrong.

What actually happened was, my alarm went off at 6:30, thus fulfilling its end of the bargain. Then I proceeded to get up, walk over, hit snooze, and get back in bed. Ten minutes later, the alarm went off again, and I got up, walked over, hit snooze, and got back in bed. Ten minutes later, the alarm went off again, and I got up, walked over, hit snooze, and got back in bed. Ten minutes later, the alarm went off again, and I got up, walked over, hit snooze, and got back in bed. At 8:15, I decided to get up. That's right, my friends, I got in and out of bed every ten minutes for an hour and forty five minutes. Sigh.

On the other hand, to the relief of the world, my life has otherwise been good. I went to the Daily Show last week on the day that former President Jimmy Carter was special guest. And last Thursday, I picked up a package that arrived for Blair, then was standing and chatting when I suddenly looked down and realized that it was a box full of girl scout cookies! Blair's mom sent them. I studied the selection for quite some time (there were EIGHT BOXES!!!) and tried to decide which kind to eat. Included were two boxes of an apparently new variety called Lemonades. I derisively announced to my empty apartment that I don't like lemon cookies, that they are gross. But moments later, I decided to give them a chance, and let me tell you, those girl scouts have made a believer out of me. I have averaged two to three every night since then. Lemonades. Try them, for serious.

Oh, and! I got to ride the freight elevator at work...TWICE! Another major dream to cross off my list. The first time, Eddie told me that the freight elevator drops two floors and then continues on like a regular elevator, so I should brace myself. I asked why that was and he told me that's just how freight elevators work, they run on a different track. Imagine my surprise when I learned that he was making that up.

Mind you, up until Christmas 08, my grandmother thought "homie" was a slang term for "homosexual." It's no mystery where I get my brains.

ps I'm not actually infuriated, I just liked that mood picture. hee!

Well, today was an interesting day.

I have discovered that I have two (...and ONLY two) flaws. One is that I tend to assume everybody is doing what they are supposed to be doing. That is unfortunately not always the case. The second is that I take things personally.

(Okay, maybe I also have a third flaw: I dwell on things. But I dwell because I take them personally. Which makes it sort of the same thing. So yeah, just the two flaws.)

Aaanyway, there was a lot of fail today, which tested my inaugural resolutions. However, the day improved drastically once I left the office. I took the train to 59th and then decided to walk up to hte grocery store on 68th from there. It was super cold, but very good for clearing the mind. (Here's where it starts getting good.) So I walk into the grocery store.........and they greet me by asking me if I would like some hot chocolate. !!! Of course I would like some hot chocolate. The answer to that question, so you all know, is always yes. I thought it might be some kind of trick, but no, they gave me free hot chocolate, though I'm still not sure why. If they wanted me to buy some, they probably should have told me what brand it was.

So, that happened. Then I got back to my building and my nice neighbor let me play with her adorable puppy on the elevator. Now, I honestly wouldn't have asked for anything more than hot chocolate and puppies. I am not greedy. But fate was determined to make up for my foul workday, and I got off at my floor to discover...a handsome young man lives at the other end of my hallway! How did that get by me? It's no subway romance, but it's a start.

And then (and then!) I learned that not only has Cole Hamels agreed to a contract...not only has Ryan Madson agreed to a contract...but now Jayson Werth has ALSO agreed to a contract! And that means all of my favorite Phils will be around for at least a few more years. =D Also, I think they picked the funniest picture of Jayson Werth in existence to use on the front page of phillies.com. Hee.

Also also, loved Lost.

Thus a bad day was redeemed.

AND STILL I RISE. <-- Heather, that is your second shoutout on this journal. Don't expect more; I can't make your fame for you.

For those interested, no mouse sightings.

So, like I said, I’m not intending to have this be a work blog, but what you WILL probably see here is a multitude of pointless entries, much like the one that I am about to write. See exhibit A:

Right now, I am on the bus, making my way back to the city. I spent a very pleasant weekend at my mom’s house in Pennsylvania. I’m not gonna lie, I was avoiding my apartment because there may or may not still be a mouse (mice? please no) in it, attempting to freeload off of me and my hard-working roommate. At the very least, if these disease-ridden vermin want to live with us they are going to have to pay rent.

So anyway, as I say, I went to great lengths to avoid my apartment this weekend. I spent Friday at my roommate’s boyfriend’s apartment (to be fair, so did my roommate’s brother, and we did go to a movie etc. so it’s not like I went there solely to get away from the mice…maybe) and then trekked to good old Hellertown, PA. So it all worked out.

I’m still convinced, though, that a plot exists to sabotage my weekends (not sure who’s behind it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s this one), because just as I was preparing to hop on a bus back to NYC, a damned blizzard (ish) hit the area, causing all kinds of crazy havoc. And thus I find myself on the bus now, instead (since I won’t be posting this until later, it’s 10:20a Tuesday morning, FYI).

And, uh oh, my bus just hit something and we are pulling over outside of the Lincoln Tunnel. Cliffhanger!

I have decided that it’s time to do that thing I said I was going to do two months ago…i.e., start a blog.

We are going to be fast friends, so allow me to bring you up to speed on me: I work at Tor Books, where I’ve been since January 2007, first as an intern and then as an editorial assistant. As of a few months ago, I assist Beth (casacorona)and Melissa and Heather (e_d_trix). It is so much fun that I am actually a little jealous of myself. I’m not planning on making this a work blog (though it will undoubtedly find its sneaky way in somehow), so a few other things: I like Lost, chicken fingers, and reading in Central Park (which I live next to) on weekends. I drink way too much hot chocolate. I love watching football (Eagles) and baseball (Phillies) but despise the actual playing of sports…in fact, I don’t even like when people play sports NEAR me because I’m afraid the ball might come near me and I’ll have to throw it back. The only sport I am open to playing is skeeball, which I love. That’s pretty much all I have to say about me.

So, I meant do this back on January 1st for that whole new year thing, but that didn’t work out. For the best, though—it occurred to me that, what with Obama’s inauguration happening today, this is much more of a new start than January 1st was. And so, I make my New Year Resolutions today instead.

1) Stay the course with that whole exercise thing. Build up to 40 minutes of straight running without walking. (I’m at 31 now.)
2) Follow through on plans more / keep in touch with friends not living in the city.
3) Eat better / try new things. Don’t get discouraged.
4) Be more responsible with money (i.e. stop throwing around money that doesn’t exist).
5) Remember that work is not my entire life. No need to be upset at home if I encounter a particularly vicious breed of crazy at work.
6) Get to know parts of the city I haven’t explored yet.
7) Let it go.

That last applies to all areas of life, I think.

2008 involved, among other things, stress, breakdowns, hope, job changes, and, in the end, the most content state of mind I’ve had in a long long time. A year is a long time to feel out of control, but now I’m finally feeling like I’ve got a handle on things again.

As it turns out, life is really good.