I was really hoping that when the moon came up full last night that I’d turn into a werewolf so I wouldn’t have to go to work at Bank of No Forks today. As you may have guessed, that didn’t happen.

A girl can dream.

Today was Sassy and The Bandit’s first day of school. That seems so early to me. I learned that this year The Bandit’s four buddies are all in the same class. That didn’t happen in first grade. That year, someone very wisely divided the group and sent them in pairs to separate classes. Clearly, the registrar did not get the memo.

My Honey and I are trying to decide whether or not to warn the teacher that this particular group of boys was referred to as the Four Toddlers of the Apocalypse not so very long ago. Should we tell or would it be better to let the teacher figure that out for herself?

For those of you who have been following my writing career, as uneventful as it’s been, there is something big coming….soon. Most definitely by Christmas. Stay tuned…..

I love the Olympics. I watch all the events. I stay up too late trying to see everything. When it comes to the Olympics I’ll watch the stupidest, most boring sports just cause they’re Olympic. Ping Pong? Trampoline? Archery? Really, when else are you going to see that on TV? It doesn’t matter. By the end of these two weeks, I’ll know everything about competitive archery. I do think it’s really too bad that they don’t let Hawkeye compete. He would kick some serious butt.

There has been a lot of talk on the internet and everywhere else about the athlete’s bodies. While I agree that these people have some ridiculously phenomenal bodies, I don’t think that’s where the attention needs to be paid.

There is an elephant in the room that no one ever brings up. A giant glittery elephant.

Some of these gymnasts have a serious love of eyemake up. And shimmery glitter. It’s more than mildly disturbing. In

Mercy!

fact, sometimes I can’t concentrate on the event because of the train wreck on some of these girls. Perhaps it’s that they just have so damn much on and they are only fifteen and sixteen years old. Where is their mother to wipe some of this crap off?

Perhaps, next Summer Olympics we should send Glamour and Vogue magazines over to some of these Eastern European countries as a preemptive strike against the over application of eye shadow. One of them even had fake eyelashes on. Excessive much?

Back to the glitter. I do love me some glitter. It’s my favorite color. Nevertheless, moderation people. Seriously, I’m fairly certain that the Russians used all the glitter. If Disney stock plummets because there is a glitter shortage, we’ll know who to blame.

I’m actually a little concerned about myself. I’m exhibiting behavior that is wholly unlike me and, honestly, I don’t know what to think of it.

You may recall that from years past, that my birthday is approaching. This Sunday is the day. Usually by this time I’ve informed you all of a PO Box you can send gifts to, where the party will be, what my expectations are for the celebration.

Oddly, not this year. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I was all caught up in going to the RWA convention and just before that I was in Albuquerque and just before that San Diego. It’s been a whirlwind of travel and I think the date just sort of snuck up on me.

My Mom is concerned. My Honey must have asked me five hundred times what I want for my birthday and I still don’t really know. I can’t decide what I want for my birthday dinner. I don’t know what restaurant I want to go to for my lunch, or even if there’ll be the traditional birthday lunch, since Kelli started her new job.

For the love of all that’s holy, I couldn’t even decide what kind of cake I wanted. I told my mom to pick. That’s actually quite alarming.

Ava thinks I’m handing myself with a new-found maturity. That sounds like crap to me.

You would all be so proud of me. One of the things that goes on at the National Romance Writers Convention is that they give you free books.

FREE BOOKS, people.

You must know what a weakness I have for books. Books are my kryptonite. I just can’t help myself.

The freshly packed trunk on the way to Anaheim

But the problem, you see, is that there were four women in Carly, Ava’s Cadillac, along with the attendant amount of luggage. That trunk was unbelievably full and the idea of squeezing even one more thing into was unfathomable.

Yet, they were giving away books. I could feel my fingers itching.

On Wednesday we checked in with the RWA people. We each received a huge red and white canvas bag along with our credentials. Ava and I plopped on the floor right in the middle of the lobby like little kids and opened the goodie bag. Inside were maybe fifteen books, hardcover and paperback.

I felt heart palpitations.

We attended a signing for literacy and I only bought one book. Only one. I was quite proud of myself.

Throughout the convention there were massive organized book signings underwritten by various publishers. At these events, free books were given away as they were being signed by the authors. Ava and I didn’t attend any of these events. We thought it was best not to be tempted.

That, and we were so busy taking craft and career workshops we didn’t have time to get to any of the signings.

No matter how hard I tried, the damn free books kept coming. Sometimes at the end of the workshops, there were free copies of the speaker’s books. I tried to resist. I think we only collected four or five of those copies.

So Ava and I were up to somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-five books in our hotel room. Don’t forget that there were two other women with a combined total of a similar number of books as ours.

We figured that we could ship the books home via overnight shipping. There was even a conveniently located shipping company in our hotel lobby. But, really, isn’t the reason for driving – besides that’s it’s much cheaper than flying – because you don’t want to worry about overweight luggage and such?

We ended up getting every single one of those books home by shoving them in every single pocket of space in that trunk and on the floor at Ava’s feet in the passenger seat. Our friend,Tara Simone, is a phenomenal packer.

We have stuff to tell you but it’s midnight and Mickey Mouse kicked our asses.

We’re too exhausted to tell you about it today.

Tomorrow……

We made the trip to Anaheim in 7 hours and 5 minutes including 17 potty stops. Let’s just say, there will be no beverages in the car on the trip home.

The first potty break happened in Gila Bend. Amylynn was driving and she was so desperate to find a potty that she didn’t even notice her iPhone fell out of the car. Thank Zeus it was there, laying on the pavement next to the car in the middle of a scorching McDonald’s parking lot. My Honey is considering that she have the thing surgically attached with a tether. We’ll check into that when we get back. Until then, we’re going to train Siri to screech out a warning whenever Amylynn acts like an idiot.

The next event of note is that Quartzsite, the location of potty stop #37, has a convenience store selling Swedish Fish buy one get one free. We bought nine and we’re not sharing.

The thing about Anaheim is that it’s always associated with the happiest place on Earth. Apparently it’s not as there was a whole block with boarded up windows from a riot sometime during the week. Excuse us, but, as the disgruntled employees of Bank of No Forks, we have no idea what the people of Anaheim have to be so worked up about. Call us selfish, we won’t even flinch, but we’re hoping that keeps the weenies away from the real happiest place on Earth. You know, now that we’re thinking of it, Anaheim IS LIKE A WAR ZONE. SAVE YOURSELVES! DON’T COME HERE.

We attended a literacy event this evening at the Convention center. We saw lots of friends – Karen Hawkins, Sabrina Jeffries, Lauren Willig, Brenda Novak, Suzanne Enoch, Julia London, Jennifer Ashley, Vicki Lewis Thompson, and Patti Knowles. We were super disappointed to have missed Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Jayne Ann Krentz, and Julia Quinn but we still have three more days to track them down and have our fan girl moments.

At the event there were some crazy ass outfits that we really fear were not worn in irony. Who would have thought that Romance Writers of America would have this many people with wonky colored hair? Not us, certainly. But there you go. There was one person in particular we noticed from clear across the room. Ava thought she was Marge Simpson’s sister because who else would have a two foot, hot-pink beehive? We were forced to get closer and look. How could we not? Turns out Diane Kelly was absolutely adorable regardless of the fact that the wig was so alarming Ava couldn’t look straight at it, and we bought her book, Death, Taxes and a French Manicure, because it looks very funny and we love funny.

Also, there seemed to be some crossover with the hooker convention in the next ballroom. We’re not sure how the invitations crossed like that but that’s really the only way to explain some of what we saw. The real tragedy, certainly, is that the hookers were of all the wrong sex.

In addition to authors we love, and others we fully intend to love once we meet them, there were agents here. We didn’t see Amylynn’s agent but she’s here somewhere.  She’s very tiny and easy to miss behind a potted palm. We did see a certain agent who famously rejected Amylynn’s first book with the inexplicable phrase, “it’s a hard row to hoe”. After we rolled her in the third floor ladies room she’s rowing with a swirly.

We also saw a certain lovely agent who has a secret submission of ours. She saw us and we saw her but it wasn’t until after we passed each other that we realized who she was. We decided to pretend we are adults and didn’t chase her down. We’re going to take the high road and wait patiently until she responds like normal people do. We’re going to see how that works for us.

We’re not holding out a lot of hope.

The night wrapped up with a party with the Goddesses. Suzanne Enoch insisted we wear tiaras. Tiaras!

You know what? We think we found our people.

I had every intention of getting off work early today so I could get home and finish the laundry. Not to mention that I had to try on all my clothes, cry for a few minutes, try them on again with various different foundation garments, have a fit and throw all my clothes on floor, and then text Ava in complete and utter despair.

And then I had to figure out shoes.

I finally got a grip on myself and picked out some suitable clothes that mostly fit. Then I have to figure out how to get them all in a too small suitcase. Why too small? Because there are four women trying to shove four suitcases in the trunk of a Cadillac. I’m pretty sure I can make it work. I have rolled and scrunched all the clothes and wedged and shoved them into wrinkled wads of fabric – but they’re in there.

Still, even after the demoralizing effects of the packing, I’M STILL SO EXCITED!

We plan to Tweet like maniac’s from the convention. If you’re interested in following us and our escapades you’ll find us under my account – @amylynnbright and we’ll use the hashtag #RWA12. The reason we’re using my account and not the @quillsisters is because I have the app on my iPhone and Ava doesn’t. Lets face it, there isn’t enough time to teach her how to use the app anyway. It’s really just easier to do it on mine. This is exactly how she gets people to do everything for her – she acts completely incompetent even when she’s not just so she won’t have to do stuff. I know it’s a ploy but who has the energy to fight about it?

 So Anaheim Convention Center (conveniently located ACROSS THE STREET FROM DISNEYLAND) prepare yourselves for the coming of the Quill Sisters. Well, two out of three Sisters anyway. We’ll sure gonna miss Kelli. Sigh.

Alright – I have to finish up and get to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.

Till tomorrow.