Had Burmese food Friday night, with work friends--curried potato fritters and spicy mango chicken and hot tea with condensed milk, then homemade red bean ice cream at Ray's Coffee Shop. Saturday, post-writing, was lunch with feklar at El Vez, where I had tamarind juice and tiny cute open-faced beef tacos, went home, napped, wrote some more and read for a while, then trekked way down into South Philly for a friend's graduation party, where I met a poet and an archaeology grad student who works in Ireland, among other people.
Slept late again on Sunday; brain felt empty; instead of pushing myself, I drank a lot of cold mint tea and typed up Saturday's work, editing and adding a bit more to it. Then I went out for a frozen coffee thing and to browse at Barnes & Noble, which did indeed have three copies of the latest Spice novel. It took me a while to gather my courage to ask, but my ISBN was indeed in the system! The book is not yet available for pre-order. They advised checking back every month. Perhaps my pathetic author look was apparent, though I didn't say it was my book.
Took the bus out to West Philly in the afternoon where L. made me cherry pie and blueberry pie while I watched the baby and later played with Mademoiselle, which involved a lot of carrying her around while upside-down. Other guests arrived for dinner, and I was invited, but tired out by then and needing quiet, so I went back to my own neighborhood and had pizza and read and did laundry. And again couldn't get to sleep, even with the air conditioner. Woke early, managed to doze off again, was awakened to the vast creaky shrieks of a garbage truck, dozed off, woke to the alarm a half hour later, in the middle of a dream. Still feel groggy and slow.
Need to write more this weekend, for my own peace of mind if nothing else. Will find writing partner to keep me honest.