Wearing flowers in my hair, NATWA, and back to NY

Well, I tried to post while on vacation, but except for my two brief Blue Rose Girls posts, I wasn't successful. Although I did write the following while still in SF but never posted it, so I'll just go ahead and post now:

Ah, San Francisco. I'm having an incredible time. The weather has been phenomenal--I guess I chose the perfect week to be away from the Nor'easter-ridden East coast. Here it's been blue skies and sun (with just a few hours of rain Saturday morning)--although it's overcast today and rain is expected tonight. I've seen pretty much all of my friends I know in the area--friends from college, friends from Taiwan, my brother and cousins, have met up with Sean Beaudoin (author of Going Nowhere Faster) and illustrator LeUyen Pham (Whose Toes Are Those and Whose Knees Are These?), and agent Nathan Bransford. Am meeting up with Laura Rennert and Caryn Wiseman from the Andrea Brown Literary Agency tomorrow for tea and Samovar, and have also met up with Rita who happened to be in town at the same time (my friend through coincidences). Have gone to many a cafe, read and enjoyed one whole adult book A Perfect Mess (I hope to blog more about this later), and two and a half manuscripts. Braved the hills and have gone jogging twice. Hung out in Dolores Park. Looked at apartments with my friends who just moved back from Hong Kong. Have had Thai food, Vietnamese food, Taiwanese dim sum, Chinese dim sum, comfort food, burritos, crepes.

It's been so luxurious spending a whole week here getting to know the city, having my cousin Jeanne's place in the Castro as my home base. I've never lived in SF, just the East Bay, so I've really been getting to know neighborhoods I'd only ever been to once or twice before. As always, when I come back to visit, I wonder what my life would be like if I lived here. I think it would be pretty darn great. I'm loving the weather and the city and seeing all of my old friends. Of course, I love living in New York, but who knows what the future will bring.

Tomorrow night I'm celebrating my last night in SF with whoever can come out, and then am heading up to Seattle Friday morning.

As always happens when I go on vacation, work explodes. I've had three manuscripts with offers on the table either right before I left or while I've been here. Connie has been great holding down the fort. I have a lot waiting for me when I get back.

And what I haven't had much time to do is blog, unfortunately. But I had a brief window of time just now and thought I'd check in.

And now I must check back out. More later. Here's hoping
that Spring returns to the Northeast by the time I get back on Monday.

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In Seattle I attended the North American Taiwanese Women's Association (NATWA) Annual meeting. Last year I attended for the first time as a panelist, invited to speak about Taiwanese American Women in Publishing along with two authors I work with, Grace Lin and Justina Chen Headley. This year I attended as, well, an attendee. My mother is a former president of NATWA, and last year asked me to attend. I greatly admire the organization's mission statement, and also appreciated their attempt to reach out to the second generation, or as they say, the 1.5 and 2.0 generation, because they've rightly realized that if they don't do this, the organization is doomed to die with the membership, mostly in their 50s and up. So they formed NATWA II. Last year was the first year, and they had about 15 of the younger generation attend. This year they had about twice as many, and it was great to reconnect with old friends and meet new ones. To be honest, I wouldn't have attended if my parents didn't both come. In a way, I was "guilt-tripped" to come, or as we say in Chinese, it was my instinct to be "guai," or obedient (although it's interesting to note that I always thought that this word meant "good"). But now, after attending two years in a row and meeting the amazing women who attend, I think I'm hooked. Next year the conference is in Los Angeles, so no doubt I'll go and make it a trip "home" at the same time.

After the conference I had lunch with my aunt and my parents (my father attends the conference in support of my mother as well--apparently, every year more and more spouses attend, which I find wonderful), and then spent the afternoon with Justina. She brought me to the Greenlake area; the weather was perfect for a jaunt around the lake, and then an iced tea afterwards. Then incredible sushi at one of her favorite restaurants, and then back to her beautiful home for a glass of wine by the fire and great conversation.

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And now I'm back from Seattle to an almost uncomfortably warm NY. When I left, I was still wearing a winter jacket, hat, and gloves; today I wore a summer skirt, no leggings, no coat. I came back to an office full of bright yellow plastic crates and everything in chaos. I came back to almost 200 emails, some last-minute acquisition duties, another celebrity proposal, meetings, and panic. Stayed at work till about 9 pm packing and preparing meeting materials. Trying to purge almost 8 years of work accumulation, and cram the remaining into 4 crates (I think I'll need at least 6). Lugging books I don't want to part with home on the bus. Looking at my submission pile, wishing I could have responded to all of them before the move, instead of having to pack them into boxes.

We have to be packed by 1 pm on Thursday. Then they disconnect our phone and our computers, and then we show up for work on Monday morning in the new office. This is my second office move (the first being from Boston to New York), and my seventh time moving my office/cube. I'm a moving pro, but I'm also a bit of a pack rat, and as this is the first time I'm moving from a larger space to a smaller space, I'm having some trouble. But I'm trying to be ruthless (although not too ruthless, as I've learned from the book A Perfect Mess!).

I'll try to post before and after pics soon. Goodbye Rockefeller Center, Time and Life Building, the cafeteria on the 2nd floor, Radio Music City Hall, my office, the walk through Central Park to and from work. Hello Grand Central! I'm not sure what the new office will bring for me yet (except for a cubicle--groan), but I'll have more to report after Monday.

I upgraded!

And look, I added one link so far! More to come.

Happy Holidays, one and all

As a Christmas present to himself (and the whole family, I guess), my father purchased a brand-new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine. Now, we already had a Karaoke machine, but I guess it was time for an upgrade. (For those of you who wonder where I get my love of Karaoke and singing, it's in my genes!)

So two night ago, before waching a video, the family settled down to test out the new machine. As Ben sang U2's "With or Without You" my father looked and listened to the lyrics, shook his head sadly and said, "I can't live with or without you? Aw, that...that...sucks!"

So true.

It's been great being back. Despite a brief bout with what seemed to be a 24-hour bug which I'm blaming on exhaustion, things are looking up. Got a massage, facial, and haircut; went shopping; am eating lots of good food; watched movies (United 93 and Pursuit of Happyness); played games; picked fruit; read; good talks. Oh, and sleep. Lots of sleep.

Merry Christmas greetings from Southern California, where it's finally warm and sunny and Southern California-like. I wish everyone happiness, health, and peace.

The Adventures of Alvina and the Airport

I know it's crazy, but I think I forgot that it was the holiday season. I forgot why I went to so many parties these past two weeks, why I was eating so many fattening goodies, receiving holiday cards, I think I forgot why I was flying home. I must have, because that's the only explanation I can think of for my brain freeze.

Yesterday was my last day in the office, and I was flying out of Newark to Los Angeles at 7:35 pm. All fine and dandy, I've taken the NJTransit to the airport plenty of times. I checked the train schedule and saw that the 6:11 pm train got me to the airport by 6:38, which was a little less than an hour before my flight. Good enough, right? But since I had the check luggage due to the whole "no liquids" thing, I thought I'd play it safe and definitely try for an earlier train. In my mind, told myself I'd leave the office at 5:45 at the latest.

5:30 pm: I've happily finished an editorial letter I've been meaning to send for over 3 weeks now. It was looking like it might not happen before the holidays, but I felt good that it was done, that despite my lack of motivation this past week, I had accomplished something.

5:35 pm: Changing my outgoing message, setting my out-of-office email message, pleased that I'm doing this all in advance. Sorting through old emails...

5:38 pm: Suddenly realize that I'm planning on leaving at 5:45 pm to catch a 7:30 pm flight in Newark. That can't be right! What am I thinking?! Plus I need to pick up a prescription before I leave. I grab my stuff, yell "Bye" to my assistant and a few other people as I rush down the hallway.

5: 41 pm: I interrupt an old man talking to the cashier at Duane Reade. She is thankful for the interruption.

5:44 pm: I run onto the D train

5:55 pm: While running down 34th Street towards Penn Station, I answer a call from my best friend and gasp, "I'll call you back! I'm trying desperately to catch my train! I mean bus! I mean plane! Ahh!!"

6:01 pm: I look at a sea of people with suitcases trying to cram onto the 6:03 train to Newark airport. Sh*t. It is ONLY NOW that I remember that it is the holiday season. Holiday travel. Long lines. I look at the line, decide I won't make it on and might as well save some money to buy a ticket in advance for the next train. I look at both the super-long ticket machine line and just-as-long ticket counter line, and get in the ticket counter line. By this time, I'm sweating profusely. I take off two layers.

6:08 pm: Get my ticket, am told to go to gate 13 NOW and run. There's another sea of people trying to get into the tunnel to board. In my experience, I know there's an entrance on the other side, and once again, I RUN.

6:11 pm: Am on train, still sweating. Cram my suitcase into a little nook and settle in. Peel off another layer. My T-shirt is drenched. I feel sorry for the people around me. Will I make it? Will I make it?

6:13ish? Train departs. I decide not to look at the time any more. I'm trying to be zen. I can't control how fast the train goes. What's the worst that can happen? I miss my flight and have to go standby during the holiday season. Have the shlep from the Upper East Side to Newark. Augh. But it could be worse, I could be flying through Denver. I'm feeling pessimistic at this point. Picturing the long airport check-in and security lines. Hope that people will be calling certain flights up to the front. Wondering how I can face my mother when I call to tell her I've missed my flight. I had missed my connection during my last trip to LA--that time was not my fault, but still, this is not the kind of person I am. I'm responsible. I don't miss flights. Then again, I wonder how many times I have to miss flights before I become the type of person that misses flights.

6:40ish? Get off the train, run toward the Airtrain. For some inexplicable reason, the only escalator is going down, so I join the rest of the people and lug my suitcase and bag up three flights of stairs. Only slightly out of breath at the top--thank goodness for the marathon. Run and get on the Airtrain. Still haven't checked the time. It's out of my control, I'm just going to go as fast as I can.

Exit at Terminal C. I see a clock as I run. 6:46 pm.

Long snaking lines to check in. Damn that liquid bomb threat! I never used to check luggage. Should I toss out my liquids and check in electronically? Do I even have time for that? But I need my lotions, I need my contact solution, my prescription toothpaste, my shampoo. I get in line, looking for someone I can plead my case with. Commiserate with the woman behind me whose flight was scheduled to leave at 7:05, but was delayed 55 minutes. She isn't sure if she's too late to check in. The man she's with is looking into it. I'm kicking myself most because I know it's all my fault. The trains all lined up for me, I am not unlucky; I'm just an idiot.

I have about 15 minutes to make it to the front of the line. Will I make it? Should I be an aggressive bitch and cut in line? 5 minutes later, I've gone one row in the 4-row snake. Doesn't look good.

And then, from the heavens, I am saved.

"blah blah blah...Skycab...no lines..." says an announcement.

"Skycab!" the woman says.

"Holy sh*t!!" I'm off again, trying to beat all the other desperate passengers who heard the same thing. Out the doors, into a line, I'm second in line! Look at my cellphone. 7 pm. I have 5 minutes before the 30-minute check-in cut-off. Have I actually made it? I'm am so happy for the Skycab. I am so happy I'm not one of the desperate passengers behind me offering to bribe the Skycab to check her in.

7:02 pm. 3 minutes to spare! I'm handing the kind man a $5 tip to take care of my tiny rolling suitcase, and am running for security, praying that my luggage makes it on, too.

7:05pm: After going to two different wrong security lines, they push me through the shorter line.

7:10: I'm through! It's at this point that I realize I've made it. I stop to pee. I stop to buy a banana. I stroll up to my gate--there are still a few people boarding, but it looks pretty empty. I cram the rest of the banana in my mouth, throw away the peel, and get in line just as they announce the final boarding call and the standby passengers for the flight.

I'm tempted to high five the flight attendants and yell gleefully, I MADE IT! An overwhelming gratefulness and peace comes over me. Disaster averted.

7:15 pm. I'm seated at the window seat. I hope I don't smell too bad. The plane is hot.

7:25 pm: An announcement--all passengers are on board, but not the luggage, and they aren't going anywhere without the luggage. I look out the window and watch as they load the bags, and hey, there's mine! It made it on, life is good.

A brief thought goes through my mind--what if this plane crashes? I rushed to make a flight that resulted in my death. I shake the thought from my mind.

It was exciting, it was an adventure. It's the ol' "It's the hard that makes it great" line. And you know what? Fine, the marathon was great. All the drama with relationships will make it great when I find the right person. Actually making it on the flight was great. But I'm tired of hard for now. I'll settle for "fine" and "good" for a while. Give me easy for a bit, please.

Self-defe...er...deprecating

I recorded my audio recordings last week (at my company, all editors make audio recordings of our book presentations for each list and make CDs to distribute to our Sales force so they can listen to them in their cars to get more familiar with the books), and used the word "self-deprecating" to describe the writing in one of my YA novels. I ended up having to do this particular recording three times because I kept messing up, and the more I said "self-deprecating" the more I thought I had it wrong. I'm always paranoid about that word because once my friend said "self-defecating" by accident and we endlessly made fun of him. But I've said it jokingly that way so many times that now I'm paranoid that I'll say it at the wrong time. And on a Sales CD would definitely be the wrong time. Then again...I wonder how many people would actually notice?

Greetings from beautiful Diamond Bar, CA. I never thought I'd be coming to Southern CA to escape the heat!