This might be too soon to bring this up. Ava’s still feeling fragile about it.

Yesterday I put my foot down. We were not eating Chipolte again. I simply couldn’t do it. Not again. Maybe never.

We went to Wendys for a salad. There was miserable lettuce and too much stinky cheese. Ava expressed a great deal of unhappiness. (Ave here: Unhappiness?  you’d think a fabulous writer like Amy would use the right word – MISERY.  Misery is the right word.)  I didn’t disagree, but seriously, I couldn’t take anymore Chipolte.

No.

Today the first thing out of her mouth was, “I don’t want to hear any crap from you missy. We’re getting Chipolte for lunch.”

We fitted in lunch between conference calls. That’s how we spend our days at Bank of No Forks. We had like twelve minutes to get food and get back before the next call started. We pulled up into the Chipolte parking lot. Everything looked fine. When we got inside however, the floor fell out of Ava’s world. The line was wrapped around the building. There was no way we were ever going to make it in time.

I convinced her we’d better get Chik-fil-a instead. There was blubbering. (Ava again: There was blubbering.) Still it had to be done.

We got to the Chik-fil-a with 7 minutes left.  The line was even longer, and we couldn’t wait there either.  We decided to drop Ava off and then figure out where to get lunch from.  As soon as we got back to the office, it was decided, without Ava, we’d get Greek food.  She grudgingly agreed, really having no choice but she warned us we’d be sorry.

And believe it or not – we were.  The tzatziki sauce was off.  She ate her entire lunch with a self-satisfied smug smile on her face.  Two bad lunches in a row.

I’m not happy to admit it but we’re getting Chipotle tomorrow.  At least we know the food will be good and maybe Ava will shut up.  (Ava: I probably won’t shut up but YEA CHIPOTLE!!!!!)

Alright alright alright.

“Where, oh where, can I see the Quill Sisters?” you wonder. “I wonder if they are as witty, charming, and beautiful as I think?”

Here’s you’re lucky chance.

Saturday and Sunday, March 15 & 16 we’ll be at the Tucson Festival of Books on the University of Arizona mall. It’s a fantastic festival with hundreds of authors, gorgeous weather, and witty, charming, and beautiful Sisters.

“But that festival is HUGE!” you say. “How will we ever find you?”

SATURDAY March 15

Workshop:  What Is This Place? How authors use setting to enhance the story.

Sat, Mar 15, 1:00 pm – 2:00 pm

Integrated Learning Center Room 119

Amylynn Bright, Chris Marie Green, Erin Quinn

SUNDAY March 16

There is a strange odor in my car. I can’t figure out what it is. It sorta smells like an old banana, but not really. It definitely has that uber sweet smell you get from over ripe fruit. 

I’ve personally have not eaten a banana in months.

The whole thing smacks of The Bandit. I have searched under all the seats – especially in the back seat area. Nada.

Here’s the odd part. The smell stops before the back seat. Everything smells the normal awful back there–sans banana.

I have no idea what the hell is going on in there, but I have sniffed everything in that damn front seat, and I can’t find it.

Every time I get in the car I roll the windows down hoping to blow out the odor. No dice.

The fruit flies haven’t shown up yet, but at least if they do, I’ll be able to narrow down the general vicinity.

Hints?

What’s going on in my head. And Ava’s head. She’ll try to tell you it’s not true, but she’s every bit as crazy as I am.

The Sisters are so busy they don’t know what the hell is going on any more. There are books to write on deadline, marketing for new releases, editing chores for the book due out in June. Also, there are plot holes to fix in other books and dresses to sew. Stuff to gather for the Tucson Festival of Books next weekend. Wait! What’s today? Oh Jeez. We’re so busy.

1. Wrapping directions. Our good friend had a birthday this week. We bought her our favorite bottle of wine. Not OUR as in the Sisters, but OURs as defined as the one our friend and we like best. We’re not as selfish as you’d think. Anyway, we also bought a gift bag and a thingy of tissue to make the bag prettier. We would like it mentioned we bought these items in a national chain store that rhymes with Barget only it starts with a T. We did not purchase the wrapping in a store for the mentally deficient. On the back of the package there were instructions on how to install the tissue paper correctly into the bag. Thank Zeus for that. Because we’re nothing if not for the public service announcements, we’ll let you in on the secret. 1) Gather tissue from the center of sheet. 2) Twist bottom of the tissue to hold in place. 3) place tissue in gift bag; repeat steps to fill bag. You all good now?

2. Gambling is fun and apparently not permanent.  A Las Vegas gambler who lost $500,000 in the casinos during the Super Bowl weekend is suing the Downtown Grand for loaning him money and allowing him to play while he was blackout drunk. This puts a whole new spin on the phrase, What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, huh? The Sisters are not big gamblers. We’d much rather leave the boys to the table games and we’ll hit the Forum shops in Cesar’s. STill, if we can lose our money and then get it back, we’re much more willing to shoot dice. Bring it on, we say. We’re all in.

3. Mrs. Potato head. Did you know Mrs. Potato head has a first name.  It’s Jane. We don’t know if that’s really the name for her. Jane. We know and like several women named Jane, but we don’t know if that’s what you call a potato. We don’t know what her name should be either. Maybe Felicity? Portia? Penelope? That’s the one. We’d have gone with Penelope. Penelope Potato.

4. This gorgeous book. The third book in the Secrets series is available for sale in ebook and paper format at Amazon – follow the link on the top left to purchase it. We’re quite proud of it, and we’re so happy with the cover. It’s embarrassing to toot your own horn, but we’ll do it a little. Toot toot toot!

5. Ellen. Cause we love pizza. And funny photographs. And Ellen. And this dress. And the Oscars. Ava would also like it mentioned that she loves Jared Leto. Alright, alright, alright.

What’s cuter than Betty White clinging to baby lion cubs?

Us clinging to baby lion cubs, that’s what.

God damn it! Who the hell do we have to sleep with, threaten, blow or bribe to get to cling to a lion cub? Give us a name and it’s a done deal. Amylynn’s family has been members of this zoo since for-freaking-ever. We support the hell out of the zoo.

WE NEED TO TOUCH A LION CUB.

We write a very influential blog.

We love, LOVE, LOOOOOOOOOOVE baby lion cubs.

You know what they say about prevention being half the cure? It would probably prevent a scene if we’re allowed to cling to a lion cub for just a minute.

We swear on white cake, a stack of Harper Lee books, and Cary Grant’s grave that we’ll behave ourselves.

We’ll write it down and get it notarized.

PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE.

It’s up! Imagine the room full of confetti! Click the link and buy yourself an e-copy OR come to the Tucson Festival of Books on March 15 & 16 for a signed copy. I’ll be in booth 107

These little dudes sell themselves. How can our husbands tell us no when we point out that they will mow the grass.

How?

Have you ever seen so much bouncy happiness in your whole life?