I’m back…


Oops… almost gave up on it this time.

The problem with giving up blogging–particularly after 15 years–is that you get in the habit of documenting all the hilarious, weird things that happen to you, and then, after you’ve let the blog lapse for a week, or two, or (omg!) three! you’re like, so… I”m just going to start back on St. Louis? Is that where I’m going to start back?

St. Louis was wonderful by the way–if you get my newsletter I gave a brief recap there, but I’d like to say, again, how grateful I am to everybody who came by to say hello and make me feel welcome. I’d sort of been dreading going back into the public again–the pandemic left its mark on all of us. Everybody who came by to be kind–thank you. Also–I’m not sure I posted this in social media, but we were so close to the ballpark that one of the restaurants that you could walk to from the hotel looked out into it. No, we didn’t see the game–but the excitement was palpable.

Okay–so, St. Louis–covered in the newsletter. That’s good. Do I come back to blogging with dog walking? Is that where I come back?

I should have, because the dogs and I had a FANTASTIC mental conversation the other day that I feel like I should share. It started with–as usual–the Chihuahua mafia trying to take me out and make it look like an accident.

There I was, the leashes woven securely around my ankles, Ginger, Geoffie, and Carl barking like the hounds of hell were about to eat us all for lunch, and I lost patience in front of my friend Bob, whom I try to be respectful of because he’s a sweet guy and I don’t think he’s used to women swearing.

“Oh my God, you ASSHOLES!” I cried. “You’re all FIRED!”

And then, surprise surprise! The assholes all STOPPED BARKING, and the following imaginary conversation happened.

Geoffie: Fired? Did she say we’re fired?

Carl: I’ve never BEEN fired before–how shall I live?

Ginger: What does it even mean to be fired? What happens? Do we stop going for walks? Do we just lie around all day and nap?

Johnnie: No–because that would make us cats.

ALL dogs: OMG–AMY! Are we CATS??? 

Me: No. You’re not cats. And now that I’m untangled, we can drop the subject.

Geoffie: But seriously–are we cats? I like cats. Cats are fun. Cats let me chew their ears. Are we cats? Can I be a cat?

Me: Can we just make it to the car guys? I’m done.

Okay– so we could come back to that. 

Or maybe we could come back to my friend Trina, whom I got to eat lunch with this last week. She’s funny and vibrant and the thing that got her through the pandemic was… butterflies! She makes LOVELY butterfly sculptures, and her enthusiasm so captured me that, when I took the kids to the local Spirit store, I saw that there was a butterfly mural on the side of it and took these pictures for her.

I also took the skeleton costume from inside the store, because it’s horrifying.

Lessee, lessee… 

I could talk about the Kings playing again and how very happy Mate is go to there!

Or I could talk about the hope that a little bit of rain can bring.

Or Geoffie’s new groom–because that’s always a good place to start.

So, those are all very good places to start–but that’s not where I’m gonna.

I’m gonna start at my release this week, because while I might not BLOG everyday, I definitely WRITE everyday, and after so long an absence, I thought maybe I should mention that. 

I released the third book in the Hedge Witches Lonely Hearts Club this week–and I’m sort of excited about it because it’s cool to release a Halloween story a week before Halloween, right?

So here’s to Pentacles and Pelting Plants–one of my favorite pandemic writes because I didn’t have to think about the pandemic even a little bit, even at all.

Pentacles and Pelting Plants

by Amy Lane

A month ago, Jordan Bryne and his coven of hedge witches cast a spell that went hideously wrong and captured two of their number in a pocket of space and time. The magic is beyond their capabilities to unravel so, in desperation, they send up a beacon for supernatural aid.

They don’t mean to yank someone to their doorstep from hundreds of miles away.

Once Macklin Quintero gets past his irritation, he accepts the challenge. The tiny coven in the Sierra foothills is a group of the sweetest people he’s ever met, and he’s worried—the forces they’ve awakened won’t go back in their bottle without a fight.

But he also wants to get closer to Jordan. Mack’s been playing the field for years, but he’s never before encountered somebody so intense and dedicated.

Jordan might quietly yearn for love, but right now he’s got other priorities. The magic in the cul-de-sac doesn’t care about Jordan’s priorities, though. Apparently the only way for the hedge witches to fix what they broke is to confront their hearts’ desires head-on.

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