Today I sent out 10 Shrapnels to the people that won my Goodreads giveaway. I ended up making them extra special. I couldn’t help myself.

They were signed, but I also made very small and simple colored pencil drawings on the title pages. Then I threw in some little goodies in an old California poppyseed envelope, including a thank you note on some antique labels that Michael and I had. I got a hand cramp writing them all, asking each person, as nicely as possible, for an Amazon review when they were done reading the book. I hope I get at least one.

More than 1000 people signed up for the giveaway and more than 900 marked the book as a “want to read,” but I don’t know what that means. I want to read a lot of books that I still haven’t read…yet.

Coincidentally, and before the end of the giveaway, I received a lot of Artist’s books back. Some were from Vamp & Tramp (books they weren’t able to place), and some I got back from Craig Krull Gallery, as well as the previously sold-out, Monsters on Jasmine St. The very last few of those are being distributed through Water Row Books in Marlborough, Massachusetts. Bottle of Smoke Press sold out its back stock to Water Row Books after placing one of everything at the library collection at Yale. And lastly, because of the move, we found a couple copies of Sweetnsour Pie. So now I have a little bit of an inventory of Artist’s books that I didn’t expect. Books that were previously sold out of my stock are now available, but still in short supply. It’s the very last of them now.

Now I have a few more copies of Horsebucket, and the last two All Done But Nones. Plus, two Scribbles in a Sandstorm, but I think Chance Press still has some too. I’m not sure. I pretty much a bit of everything if anyone is interested. Come one, come all.

It all kind of makes me want to make a new Artist book, but I am trying to focus on writing a new “normal” book before the end of this year for NaNoWriMo. And I finally settled on a title for that project. Should I reveal it? Hmm. I don’t know if I should tell you. If I do, then I’d have to kill you. No, don’t worry. Not really. I don’t like killing people anymore. I find that it bores the pants right off of me. I’d much rather tickle you.

Okay, so the title is Queer as Mud. What do you think? Pretty good, no? I already bought the domain name, it’s been plotted out, and I’m getting a copyright on it, so I’m pretty certain that’s the title. As far as what the cover will look like? No idea. I’ll have to go back to the experts to design me another. I was very happy with the Shrapnel in the San Fernando Valley cover, so we’ll see what they come up with.

So this past weekend, I went to the Palm Springs Art Museum with my friend and artist, Mary Addison Hackett and met artist Kimber Berry, who similarly left home at a young age like I did. She has an early life story like mine, yet then again, not at all like mine. She is a strong individual, and coincidentally has the same name as someone I used to date. She too is a new resident to this side of the desert. Not Joshua Tree, but Palm Desert, which is nearby Palm Springs. That is actually the low desert. Joshua Tree is the high desert. Despite the word “high” desert, it’s always 10-20 degrees cooler than Palm Springs.

Anyway, we saw the current exhibits at the museum: Impressionism to Abstract Expressionism and Brave New Worlds. There was also a photography show that I liked. While I liked the main show, there were only a couple things I like in the Brave New Worlds show. I wasn’t too into most of it, but I didn’t loathe it or anything. Not enough to bag on it. I thought I would fall in love with the big Motherwell in the Impressionist/Expressionist show, which I did really like, but I wound up being taken by this tiny Renoir and went back to it several times to stare at it. It was simple, and perfect. Plus it was close enough to a place to sit.

I think I pretty much put a kibosh on the day. I was being a big fat drag, as I always get tired so incredibly fast. I am not made to do anything for very long and should’ve known better than to have Mary Addison drive both of us down there. That meant I was reliant on her for a ride back and couldn’t take care of myself. I just felt like the wet rag that desperately wanted to go home. However, that’s not what happened at all. We stayed until 3:00. Almost a seven hour day of socializing in total. And yup, I stood, I walked, slowly on my feet, took some stairs, stood in direct sun for long periods of time. Basically, I did everything I should not have done. I mentioned a few times, annoyingly, that I had a disability, but since it’s virtually invisible to people on the outside of me, it’s not usually considered. No one can visibly see that I’m suffering. And I never put my foot down. Now I’m paying for it dearly and have found it hard to move for the last 48 hours. I’ve been in bed and on the couch.

And waaa, waaa, waaa. All the way home. Ha. Complain much?