I was wondering what to write this week…it’s been both a very busy and very quiet week for me, lots of errands, but nothing really going on. Lots of porch-sitting; I copyedited ANYTHING FOR YOU (Blue Heron #5) entirely on the porch. The weather was lovely for the most part.
The thing that this week really featured was my vast pajama collection. Most days, I don’t work in PJs, but this week had a day or two where I stayed real, as it were. And so, let’s talk pajamas.
Currently, I am gracing my family with pink plaid pajama bottoms bought from Target many, many years ago. Also, a Los Pollos Hermanos t-shirt (Breaking Bad fans will understand). Other t-shirts include a pink Derek Jeter (I’ll never let go, Derek!), Body by Ben & Jerry’s, Blackbeard’s Bait & Tackle and Joe’s Bar: Big drinks, good food, lots of fun.
I am probably most known for my leopard-print pajamas, which I always wear on Plotmonkey weekends with the girlies. Wouldn’t want to let anyone down. Those were a Christmas present from McIrish about 8 years ago. The elastic waistband is shot, but I’ll persevere.
Then I have my Kate Hepburn pajamas: white and pink striped, very classy. I am not the type to appear in public in pajamas, but if I were, these would be a fashion statement.
During the school year, I often walk Dearest Son down our long driveway to the bus stop, so we can chat. I always have my pajamas on, and he gently and lovingly stops me at the curve and says, “This is far enough, Mother. Bye! I love you.” I understand. My bedhead alone makes me look like a crazy person, let alone the PJs, LLBean muck boots and McIrish’s Carhartt jacket.
One time, I had to chase after my dog in pajamas, because she was going after a fox. Fittingly, I was wearing the leopard-print jammies that day—it was all very food chain, very predator-meets-prey. Another time, I got lost in a hotel in a bathrobe. A few weeks ago, I was walking Willow on the Cape, early enough that I wouldn’t run into anyone. Of course, I ran into someone. He kindly didn’t mention the fact that my pajama bottoms were on inside out, and if he too was on Team Daryl, as my t-shirt proclaimed me to be, he didn’t say so.
This week, I’ll be at Romance Writers of America’s national conference. Chances are high that I will lock myself out of the room in one of the above ensembles, if history is any indicator.