I got the very first copy of my book today, shrink-wrapped, sent by messenger from Dan Halpern, my editor at Ecco. Though i was tempted, I didn't open it. Instead, I called my mother. My mother is the OG mistake maker. Throughout my life, she'd called attention to her own comical errors. Every time she made a mistake, she'd say, "well, I hope some time I'll stop having these learning experiences!" Her willingness to admit when something went wrong rubbed off on me, and helped inspire me to write the book.
So I brought my mother the book, and she hugged it with pride before sitting down and flipping through. Here's my mom looking at the cover. I got a kick out of the fact that her sweater and my book jacket were in the same color family. Cosmic coincidence.
This is the kitchen in the apartment I grew up in. My mother is still living in the same place, using this amazing stove to boil water for instant coffee. My mother doesn't cook.
These spices haven't been used in over 20 years, but my mother likes to keep them just where they are.
The heat in the kitchen made the dots drip on this very cool wall clock. Dali would approve.
Note to self: Putting spice behind a toaster oven and next to a stove is not ideal.