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May 6, 2001 - I
moved out of my NY apartment into Uncle Irv Goldenís house in Connecticut
last Friday. Itís gorgeous here. Spring is bursting out all around us. Trees
are flowering in pink and white, shrubs are bursting with yellow , and green
Iíve set up an office and a futon bed in his
finished basement, and Iím struggling with PR stuff. I still have to
research all those organizations and bookstores and send out letters. Iím
not very good at this.
On Monday I pick up the invitations to the
signings that have been set up in CT and Washington, D.C. They have to be
addressed and sent out immediately. My aunt and uncle, Elaine and Bob Friedman
are supplying a list of their friends and so are my friends, Susan Lechner and
Debbie Barr in Washington. But the addressing, the stamping, the personal
notes have to be written.
My life is so focused on this book that Iím
feeling unbalanced. Last night was Uncle Irvís eighty fourth birthday and I
bought lobsters and invited his friend Bernice and her daughter Jackie to join
us for a feast. If I am ever to be executed and given a choice of a last meal,
it will definitely be lobster.