Last weekend, I lead a birthday party for a little girl who was turning four. All her preschool friends came. I was supervising the kids on big foam play equipment, and one little boy kept hiding in the tunnel underneath it, and then popping his head out.
"Are you the troll under the bridge?" I said.
He smiled, but didn't say anything.
I kept helping the kids go down the slide, watching that they didn't push each other off, but the boy kept popping up and trying to disrupt the line.
"Little troll," I said, "will you please let the birthday girl go down the slide?"
"Not until you answer my riddle," he said.
I spent a lot of time with friends this weekend, drinking wine, eating cheese plates, going to yoga. I also spent the blizzard inside, alone, watching Sister Wives on TLC. Compare the message of that show ("Ours is a spiritual union") with that of the film Gigi, which I saw on the big screen at BAM yesterday ("Men love you just the way you are, even if you've trained to be a prostitute.") Thank heaven for Maurice Chevalier.
In book news, I have a new advice column up today at The Faster Times, just in time for Halloween, about a scary boss. My novel was reviewed in Publishers Weekly, on the Swenson Book Development Blog, and in Library Journal by a woman named Jan Blodgett. Because there is this thing called the Internet, I am able to find out the source of all my mediocre reviews (in this case, from a middle-aged adjunct belly dance instructor). I'll definitely try to make my next novel target that demographic.