You may have heard that the Bright’s had a very bad experience when we checked into our hotel in San Diego. It took FOREVER to get our room. The front desk kept checking the computer and saying, “We’re just waiting for it to be inspected.”

Finally, FINALLY, we got our key and we trudged wearily to our room, toting WAY TOO much luggage behind us. When I opened the door I was met with garbage on the chair, the iron and ironing board out, and wire hangers all over the counter. I had a total Joan Crawford moment which only got worse when I realized the beds hadn’t been made. I called the front desk and shrieked at the first person who answered the phone. they connected me with the manager and I shrieked at him. He said he’d send someone immediately.

I slammed down the phone and shooed my people out of the room. By the time I wandered in to see the state of the bathroom I was almost apoplectic. I was met with towels on the floor  and used soap on the sink and in the shower.

Another call the to the front desk ensued accompanied by more shrieking. My Honey wandered down to the front desk while I was waiting for housekeeping. He said he could hear me through the phone even when it was pressed to the manager’s ear.

Eventually, amends were made and our room was put to rights. By now we were starving so we went to find some dinner. There was a close restaurant with excellent ratings on the internet so we got ourselves some online reservations. We were seated right away in a lovely booth. We gave our drink orders and requested water all around. The place had a lovely décor and we felt ourselves relaxing. Until the busboy spilled a tray of ice water on our table and drowning My Honey and The Bandit. My boy leapt to his feet and squealed, “Oh My God, that scared me so bad I lost my shoes!”

The busboy was mortified and half the restaurant staff rushed over to scoop the ice off the booth and swab the table of a gallon of water. We ended up having a lovely dinner – I had the best scallops I’ve ever put in my mouth –  and we got all of our drinks for free to made up for the dousing.

I know the Sisters present a picture that we are difficult and complain a lot. That is true, but we’re never overly mean to a terrified busboy. It was an accident and we were totally cool about it. I was a witch to the hotel manager, but not to the lovely maid who did come and actually clean our room – her I thanked profusely.

We’re here all week – this story to be continued. I’ll keep you up to date on Sunburn Watch 2015 and How Much Did We Get Off Our Check This Time. Also, how the kangaroo napping works out.

It rained today. It was all over the news forecast. The sky was cloudy. None of this was a surprise. However, when Ava pulled her beautiful new Jaguar into the car wash like she does every Friday morning, they were surprised. “You know it’s raining, right?” they asked. She made them wash it anyway. That’s what a person does who has purchased the unlimited car washes plan. She made them vacuum the interior and wipe down all the seats. She probably even made them wash the windshield (I did.). She would like it pointed out that it was only sprinkling when she went in, and the pouring didn’t start until she pulled back out into traffic. Can you imagine what the guys at the car wash had to say about that? She’d just shrug. We’re used to it. Here are some other stories we wondered about this week. You’re welcome.

1. National Donut Day. We celebrated this today. It’s one of the high holy days for the Quill Sisters. We ordered our donuts from the best donut bakery in the entire world. It just happens to be here in town. Aren’t we lucky? These donuts are the lightest, fluffiest pieces of pastry you’ve ever encountered. We’re pretty sure they use unicorn horns to stir the batter and then wee elves wearing Teflon suits use tiny bellows to puff them up while they’re in the oven. You simply can’t believe when you bit into one that it’s real. Or that it’s not a dream. The glaze is so delicate, so perfect, that butterflies must brush it on with a Phoenix feather. But we wax poetic. You’d have to try them for yourself. We’re not going to tell you where they are because then there won’t be enough left for us the next time we’re craving an extra 17 pounds on our hips.

2. Amylynn asked for custody of the cat. We’re very sad to report that the 27 year marriage between Ava and Ed is sure to fail. It’s just not destined to last. A horrible omen rose up this past week that speaks nothing but doom. The Parisian city council has ordered that all the Love Locks attached to all the bridges crossing the Seine be removed and destroyed. They mumbled some nonsense about all the locks (estimated to number more than half a million on the Ponts des Arts bridge alone) are weighing down the bridges so much as to make them dangerous. Indeed, some of the railings have toppled right into the river. If the lock goes, surely that’s a bad sign, right? Jared Leto should not be surprised if his life changes drastically very soon.

3.We have a few better ideas. Ever since that Bucket List movie came out, everyone has a bucket list. Some of them are good – like going to Venice or having a pet panda – and some of them are just stupid. Case in point, a 91-year-old man in Chicago wanted to know what it’s like to drive a car through a garage door. Really?  Ava could have told him. She could also tell him what it’s like to hit a giant yellow parked school bus or drive into traffic with the sun-shield still on the front window. How does any of that belong on a bucket list? It doesn’t. After he did it, he said he didn’t know what could ever top it. How about backing over the garbage cans? That ought to top it.

4. Visiting Relatives. Ava’s nieces are in town. A perfect evening was had by all when it was suggested they all go shoe shopping and on to In-n-Out Burger for milk shakes and then over to McDonald’s for fries. These delicious bad-for-you snacks were happily consumed at home while

Not the most comfortable position…

modeling new shoes and watching a movie. Bliss.

5. That’s no bull, he’s our brother. The Sisters always enjoy a good story about their own kind. It seems a bull in Atlanta fell down a well. It took a while to rescue him so, while he waited, he took a nap. Yup, a nap in the middle of his rescue.  He’s our kind alright. He didn’t even leave when he could, he finished his nap first. Bucket list: 1.Nap in a well. Check mark!

Thursday was National Hug Your Cat Day. For those of you allergic to cats, I hugged Jojo Kitty a bunch of times.

See how much he liked it.

He did. I assure you.

Well, at least he didn’t run away.

Sassy is pretty certain that I’m trying to kill her. That’s ridiculous, of course. If I was going to do it, I would choose something way more sure fire than sending an expired cookie in her lunchbox.

Seriously. An expired cookie.

The back ground here is that she is overly concerned about expiration dates.

I’ve tried to theorize to her about the concept of yogurt and sour cream and cottage cheese. She doesn’t buy the explanation that all of that is old milk already. She routinely goes through the pantry, pulling out boxes of cereal and asking, “Is this safe to eat?”

“Dear God, child,” I exclaim. “It’s cereal! Eat it!”

Toothpaste. Peanuts. Candy. “Is this safe to eat?”

I’m forever finding stuff like this in the garbage. Saltines don’t go bad. Stale, yes, but no one will die from an expired Saltine. You’ll never convince her of that.

So I was in a hurry trying to get the kids lunches packed and all of us out the door in time for work one morning. I assembled sandwiches and juice boxes. I tossed in a string cheese, some grapes, and grabbed two packages of Grandma’s peanut butter cookies.

Peanut butter cookies. I LOVE peanut butter cookies.

This was the text conversation around noon:

Sassy – sending me a photo

Me – What is that date for?

Sassy – The cookie you packed me for lunch.

Me – It’s ok. You can eat it. It may just be a bit stale.

Sassy – Noooooooo You know how bad I am with expired food and expiration dates.

Me – You’re weird.

Sassy – Thanks mum I love  you. PS. I’m not eating that cookie.

Her father and I were in the living room that night after the kids went to bed. “Why are you trying to kill our daughter?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Good grief. It’s a COOKIE! Cookies don’t go bad.”

“That’s botulism in a wrapper.”

Jeez, these people.

I thought I’d share with you how I was tortured today.

Since moving from Bank of No Forks to the new company, Ava has been harassing me. I need to get a license for my job that I never needed before. To obtain this license you have to have taken 20 hours of industry related classes, and then take both a federal and a state licensing exam.

It’s a big damn deal and there’s a lot of pressure.

I studied like a maniac, well actually I crammed like when I was in college the last couple of days. The federal test is scheduled over 3 hours and 45 minutes. If that’s not enough to freak you out, I don’t know what will. I drove across town like a bat out of hell so I could get a hamburger on the way. I tried to memorize regulations at every stop light along the way. When I got to the testing facility, I had no idea what to expect. The people were very nice while they told me to take off my watch and leave all of my belongings in a locker. They were so serious about it, I was actually anticipating that they’d hand me a paper medical gown and I’d be forced to leave my clothes in that locker, too.

So now all my stuff was in the locker – all except my driver’s license. I despise my driver’s license. My picture is truly horrible. I look like a female ax murder with the worst skin on the planet. I defy anyone to show me a worse driver’s license photo.

The lady held it in her hand and peered at it. “Are you certain this is you?”

“Sadly, yes, it is.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s mortifying isn’t it?”

“You are much cuter than this photo would imply.”

“Well that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about a photo I’m in.”

Then, in order to punish me, she took my picture again. Gak!

They asked me if I had any pockets.

“No.”

Unbelievably, they waved a metal detector all around me to verify this. I had some irrational fear that I’d secreted away some metal object and I’d forgotten about it. Turns out no. I’m a terrible spy. I didn’t have any secret tattoos with the test answers in them.

The test made me a wreck. The good news is a passed – this one at least. I have to take the state version on Wednesday.

I’ll bet I could write answers on the bottoms of my feet if I wore sandals.

We’re home. We’re exhausted. Everyone is against us napping.

Jojo Kittywiggles wouldn’t even speak to me for hours. He stayed under the bed and glared with shiny, angry eyes until I pulled him out and made him cuddle.

As always, we had a fabulous time at AZ Dreamin’. We met some really fun people and reconnected with old friends. We’re always amazed that people want to talk to us.

Amylynn burned the crap out of her hand with the curling iron. So it was just like being at home.

We came home via the IKEA store because Ava needed to touch all the kitchen cabinets. The best thing was the cafeteria. We ate the Swedish Breakfast which will heretofore be referred to as the Official Quill Sister Breakfast of Champions. Two Swedish pancakes with lingonberry jam, scrambled eggs, sausage, and roasted potatoes. All of this gloriousness for 2.99. HEAVEN!!

Also, we picked up some Swedish Fish because, duh, we were in IKEA.

Anyway, back to the grind at work. And prepare ourselves for our wee jaunt to New York City in two months. Prepare to hear about some epic paper cuts forthcoming.

We’re at the fabulous readers event in Phoenix and this is what we have to say about that. It’s effing hot here. For real. This is why we’re stupid. Every year we’re surprised when summer comes. You’d think we’d be expecting it, but no. After all, we live in the desert. So now we’re running around trying to accomplish stuff and we’re moist. It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that it’s this hot and there’s no actual fire. While we look for someone to turn

This is not Amy. This is Ronald Reagan.

the air conditioning down to 65 degrees, you look at this:

The magic happened!

1. Amylynn Bright, Teacher – Amy has come long way in her public speaking skills since she started writing. Writers are always being asked to speak which is odd since we spend a lot of time alone with imaginary people. The class Amy taught was about writing a series because she’s written two of them. All went well except for her not introducing herself and constantly putting her hands in her hair.

2. Watching Ava wrestle a coffee maker. We’re intelligent people. Disregard all judgments you made above when we told you we were stupid. We write books so we know we can form a sentence. However, all bets are off when you’re in a strange hotel room and you want coffee. There is some sort of machine in our room that purports to make coffee but we’ve read all the instructions (which are pictures) and nothing. We stood together and chanted at it. Nada. We don’t need coffee badly enough to dance naked or anything, but if you happen to be in the Phoenix area at the Embassy Suites and have the good fortune to figure out the coffee maker, come by our room. We could use some instruction.

3. Room service. While the rest of the hotel is off partying, the Sisters are safely in their room, clad in jammies, some of us are swaddled in blankets, and we’re eating room service. We’re eating dessert that would go excellently with some nice decaf coffee – see #2. Along with the wee chocolate Bundt cake, we ordered a hot cookie. We conned them into doing 1/2 chocolate chip and 1/2 peanut butter. We are a pain in the ass every where we go. Also we requested 10 wee half and half containers in case we figured out the coffee maker. They would only bring us 4. We don’t know if that’s because we annoyed them over the cookie or not.

4. Amylynn Bright, Author Speedmeet. Sometimes things are funny when they’re not supposed to be. Exhibit One: Amylynn Bright doing the speedmeet. Each author has 2 minutes to introduce themselves to readers at 12 tables. Just picture it – Amylynn manically waiving her arms while handing out tiny Violet stickpins and talking about her books while being expected to hustle around a crowded room every 2 minutes. Ava was certain a trip to the emergency room would become necessary and started to ask around to see who would take her there because Ava’s not going anywhere near an emergency room. As luck would have it, Amylynn survived in one piece if a bit tired. Don’t miss this spectacle next year, trust us about this.

5. Brian Kohatsu. He was a comedienne who regaled us at the dinner. He was very funny. We legitimately laughed. He had a couple of jokes we’d love to tell you but the set up is too complicated and we’re too tired to type them out. There was a good one about kids doing show and tell, and another about taking kids camping and then he read us a short “bromanace” that was really great satire. If you get the chance to see him, do. He was great.

The Sisters will be at a reader event all weekend. AZ Dreamin’ in Phoenix. It’s a great deal of fun – like a weekend long pajama party.

The reason I bring this up is that part of the event involves “book clubs” where approximately eight readers at a time get to spend about 30 minutes with an author of their choice, and there are seven of these. At these events I always hold a Regency tea. Last year I even wore my lovely Regency dress. I’m not going to do that this year, but I’m still holding the tea. I bring my grandmother’s silver tea service all polished up and gleaming and a few pieces of my great-grandmother’s Haviland Limoges china my great-grandfather brought back from France after World War I for my own use. I love these pieces and when else am I ever going to get them out of the china cabinet? This year we have petite fours to serve my guests and chamomile tea.

What I didn’t have was tea cups for my guests.

This bothered me immensely. Immensely. Ava has white china coffee cups with saucers, as do I. Those aren’t tea cups, and as I said, it bothered me.

I happened to be next to World Market this evening for something else entirely so I ran inside.

They had the perfect thing. Seriously. And for a reasonable price. My only issue was that I wanted them in a box. I have to cart them all over the place and a sturdy box made just for them would be perfect.

I rounded up a clerk. She was a pretty, young thing who didn’t deserve having to deal with me.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I need those tea cups and I need them in a box.”

She looked at the wall of open stock tea cups and made a face. “We don’t have any in boxes.”

“None in the back?” I asked helpfully. I explained what I use them for and why I want a box.

“I don’t think so. We do have these cups in box.” She directed my attention to some adorable mugs with stylized dogs on them. They were super cute.

“No. This is a Regency tea.” She looked like this information did not compute. “Like from Jane Austen time.”  She nodded now like she got it. Maybe she did. I don’t know her education. “I can’t use these. Totally improper.”

“OK, then how about these?” This time she pointed out some super cute cups painted with flowers stacked in a handy silver carrier.

I grimaced. “Those are demitasse cups. Too small.” I pointed back to the open stock. “I want those. In a box.”

“Let me call in the back and see what we have.”

“I’m sorry to be a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, no!” she protested, having no real idea how much of a pain in the ass I can be. “It’s no trouble.”

“It’s alright,” I assured her. “I know I’m a pain in the ass. I own it.”

The manager came out and poked around looking for some in a box. “I’m sorry. We don’t have any. Just what’s up here on the shelf. We have lots of wine boxes. We can pack them for you.”

I sighed heavily and made my expression unhappy. “I want a perfect box. With little dividers. You know what I mean, right?”

I have a vision of a box. This box doesn’t exist. In my mind it has dividers, is made of sturdy yet lightweight cardboard, and it has a magical handle for easy toting.

“We have tote bags.” He was clearly itching to show off the lovely tote bags he would happily pack my china in.

“I want a box.” I was beginning to sound like a petulant child. Maybe one of these obnoxious ones from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

He shook his head and didn’t bother repeating the same thing about not being in possession of a perfect box.

I changed tactics. “How about those zipper boxes they make for storing china. Do you sell those?”

I took that opportunity to repeat that I understood I was a pain in the ass, that I owned that designation, and was alright with him having that impression.”

“Well, so long as you’re aware of it.”

I couldn’t believe he said that! He wasn’t rude when he did so, and I guffawed loudly. It was brilliant. No one ever calls me on this stuff. Clerks all just keep apologizing while I keep asking for things I want which they can’t supply.

“I think I love you,” I told the dumpy fiftyish-year-old manager with thinning hair and glasses. “I’ll manage with a wine box.”

Disclaimer: I have no idea why Amy thinks anyone will be interested in this, but here it is and I’m supposed to tell you it’s true.

I had to have some blood drawn this morning. As you faithful readers know, I don’t care to be involved in anything medical or medically related.

I was a very sickly child. I was so sickly, I missed more than half of my kindergarten year and used to get a vitamin shot every Friday after school.  Just imagine, being a little kid and knowing once a week you’re going to get a shot.  And no, the shots didn’t help.

These are only $4.49 for 9. I got us all some!

So, as an adult, I am rarely sick. As in – almost never.  The last time I was sick was over four years ago. I caught a cold in Turkey that wouldn’t go away and Amy made me go to the doctor because she thought I had pneumonia but I didn’t. I read the x-rays myself. Turkey is dead to me now.

Anyway, when I go to a medical facility I bring a plastic bag to sit on, and I don’t take any deep breaths, and I don’t touch anything in the place. When I signed in this morning I rubbed hand sanitizer all over their pen. Right next to the sign-in sheet was a box of face masks. Medical grade. I heard angels sing. I immediately put one on and sat on my plastic bag.

I texted Amy that I was the only person in the place wearing one and that everyone else would probably be dead by noon. Not only were they not wearing the mask, they were reading the magazines. How dumb are people? Those magazines have been touched by the walking dead. No one, and I mean no one, needs to read a copy of Golf Digest at home and you certainly don’t need to read one when it means your life might be in danger.

An older man got up from where he was sitting to sit next me. Before I could find out what disease he had and make him move, he asked in an English accent why I was sitting on a “rubbish” bag. I explained it to him from behind my mask and suggested he put down Golf Dysentery and go get a mask. Wisely, he did. Next a policeman arrived, he signed in, took a look at me and the English guy and put on his own face mask and sat next to us.

Things went down hill from there. I was called for my appointment and followed the worker through a door. On the door was a sign which read “Close the door behind you”. I would have had to pull the door closed by TOUCHING it. The nurse said “Close the door.” Boy was she annoyed when I refused. SICK people have touched that door! Why would she think a woman wearing a face mask and inciting a “face mask riot” in the waiting room would touch a germ infested door? What the hell is wrong with the world today? She closed it herself. She was wearing gloves.

When we got to the exam room, I made her change the gloves. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, because all of our readers are brilliant, but I had to tell her she wasn’t touching me with the gloves she used to touch the door touched by sick people.

When it was time to go I made her give me a glove so I could get out alive. She hesitated until I mentioned I’d have to spend the day with her if I couldn’t get out. She gave me a glove.

If you made it this far, I owe you a payoff so here’s some of the best advice you’ll ever get from anyone for the rest of your life: Stay out of medical offices and if you have to go, sit on plastic, don’t touch anything, and don’t breathe while you’re in there – maybe you’ll make it out alive.

Good day.

This morning I sliced my palm open. This was very annoying, not just because it hurt – which it did! – but because I did it doing something I clearly wasn’t supposed to be doing.

I’m not allowed to be eating bagels. Don’t you know bread is the devil’s food? That’s why it’s so freaking good, don’t you know. I was making it for my kids. Umhumm, that’s my story. So there I was, slicing a bagel I wasn’t allowed to be eating. I held it in my hand and used the giant-assed bread knife from our block. I proceeded to do that thing that

BRI means – Bagel Related Injury

you’re mother told you not to do.

I sawed through that bagel like a lumberjack and only stopped when the knife met the flesh of my palm.

I can’t even really complain about it because I totally know better.

You wouldn’t know me very well if you seriously thought I didn’t complain.

Right off, I texted Ava. “I just sliced my palm open.”

Her response is so very Quill Sisters. “That will go perfectly with my 3rd degree burn from my flat iron.”

Honestly, we shouldn’t be left to our own devices. We can’t even eat or do our hair without adult supervision.