when boxes of your own books arrive on your front porch

It’s weird when that happens. It’s weird when you say I have a book. An actual physical book. To say I have 3 boxes of books is even a little bit weirder.

We went on a hike through a daffodil field the other day. This guy called Parson (no idea what his first name is since I was sort of only half-listening to the lady) planted some daffodil bulbs in the 1930s or so. (It's very likely that those facts are shaky. Sorry.) At any rate, daffodils self-propagate so they have not planted a bulb since the 1940s and these things just keep on keepin’ on! And daffodils smell so sweet, which I never knew. I learned that some varieties have more fragrance than others. At his nature class yesterday, my son learned that daffodils are poisonous. Who knew? My daughters can’t really pronounce the sounds “oi” and “or” make. It sounds more like “oh” when they say it. Thus daffodils in our world are “pohson” and we pee in the “tohlet.” Anyhow, 3 acres of daffodils! When we got home, these boxes were piled up on the front porch. I mean pohch:

The books are ready and waiting for my May 17th book launch celebration! Want a signed copy? Come on down!

There are other weird things, too. For instance, when you go to the bathroom to pee and there is this:

Also, when you turn around in your favorite comfy chair that used to be your Pepèré’s, do you see this? Yes, that IS a stick in the corner. Did I remove it? Nah. I’m sure it’s there for a really good reason. Like the horse in the bathroom.

May your Friday be filled with weird and wonderful surprises!


Find my novel, The Mosquito Hours, on Amazon and other online retailers! Wanna stay up-to-date on news about my books as well as have my latest blog posts conveniently delivered to your inbox? Then subscribe to my newsletter! Click on that little box right over there on the right. See how easy I made that for you? (You’re welcome.)