Not for me though. No Edward R. Murrow I.
The biggest piece of news I have is that I've added Florida to the list of states where Life As We Knew It is nominated for a young readers' award. A librarian there was kind enough to let me know; thanks to my lack of Murrowhood, I hadn't found out on my own.
After several days of anguish and soul searching, my mother has decided to stay put. Then again, I was the one in full anguish and soul searching mode. My mother gave it some casual thought and opted for the poison she knows.
I've lost all sound on my new computer (don't tell me to check the mute button; I've checked it 9,620,112 times, give or take a few million). Actually, I lost all sound on it a while ago, but devoted much of this afternoon to trying to get it back. Failure, failure, failure.
Purely by accident, I caught about 10 minutes of my absolute favorite Summer Olympics event- trampoline-which makes me wonder how much of it was on and I never happened upon it. Nothing against hour long interviews with Michael Phelps, his mother, his sisters, his coach, his first grade teacher, and all the people who've interviewed Michael Phelps, his mother, his sisters, his coach, and his first grade teacher, and therefore merit hourlong interviews discussing their interviews, but couldn't NBC have spared fifteen minutes of prime time for trampoline? I only get to watch it once every four years, and it's the best sport ever.
Michael Phelps seems like a very nice person, and I really don't begrude him his eight gold medals, but I'm kind of looking forward to six months from now when people will struggle to remember his name. I'm glad my last name isn't Spitz, but at least it's memorable.
I sent my editor a revised, full of intertwining, summary of the possible third book, and she's pondering it. A sensible blogger would wait until her editor actually tells her something ("I love it." "I hate it."), but then again, sensible bloggers know when their books have been nominated for awards in Florida and have sound on their computers and can figure out to the minute when trampoline is going to be on TV.
Le sigh. I bet Edward R. Murrow always knew when his books were nominated for awards in Florida and how to get sound on his computer and when trampoline was going to be broadcast on TV. Then again, he didn't know enough to quit smoking, so maybe he wasn't so sensible after all.