(This post is part of The Beauty of a Woman BlogFest VII! To read more entries, and potentially win a fun prize, visit the fest page on August’s McLaughlin’s site between today and 11pm PST March 9th.) I saw a headline on some website, and I did a massive double-take. In hindsight, I wonder…
There are few things I love more than reading. There are few things I love more than writing. And I feel quite sure that I will not be the first or the last writer who, when asked what advice she might give to writers starting out on their creative journey, will respond, “Read. All the…
I’m such a proud graduate of wonderful Wesleyan University. When Cynthia Rockwell, Associate Editor of the Wesleyan magazine, asked if I would be willing to be interviewed for their online edition, I think my gleefully yelped response was something to the effect of, “Willing? I AM UTTERLY THRILLED!” My huge thanks to Cynthia, and to…
I went to college in a small town in Connecticut, having grown up in a small Connecticut suburb of New York. No disrespect (Don’t you love sentences that begin with “No disrespect…”? Because you know something snarky is about to follow…) to the people who love living in the bucolic calm of suburbia, but you…
Meet Lala Pettibone, a forty-something widow whose outrageous antics befit women half her age. When Lala leaves her beloved New York City to relocate to a whole other Manhattan on the opposite side of the country, she’s less than thrilled. But good things come her way in sunny California, including inspiration to finish writing an uproarious book based on her own delightfully ridiculous adventures.
Lala Pettibone’s Act Two is a wonderfully hilarious, second-coming-of-age-novel.
An Excerpt: Lala and her beloved Auntie Geraldine, mourning the passage of one of Lala's precious rescued senior dogs. (P.S. To anyone who has met him, it should be obvious that Yootza is based on Tom's and my own dear Chester, who is, mercifully, still with us...)
“Oh, Auntie Geraldine, I miss him.”
“Yup,” Geraldine said. “His absence is profound.”
“He was such a dear little grump. I’m thinking I’m going to up the ante on trying to put more joy in the world. In his grumpy little bastard honor.”
“Atta girl,” Geraldine said. She dabbed at her eyes with the end of her robe’s sash. “You know, I get the feeling he’s watching from Grumpy Little Bastard Heaven, and I think he’s really happy, Lala.”
They nodded and sipped their drinks. They paused, letting themselves enjoy the warm California sunshine, each savoring a special memory of Yootza.
Lala was reliving the first moment she saw Yootza at the shelter in New York City and his pronounced, crooked underbite immediately stole her heart.
Geraldine was recalling that funny, adorable, terrifying time Yootza mistook her left index finger for a Snausage.