Earlier today, my husband came into the bedroom, where I sitting with the baby. “Um,” he said, “why, exactly, were you looking at the Bojangles website?”
I guess that’s what I get for not closing my browser.
Seriously, though, I had a good reason. The Truth About Forever is going to be published in the UK, and my fab UK copyeditor, Jennie, had some questions about what exactly I meant by biscuits. I didn’t realize it, but I mention biscuits A LOT in this book. Maybe I was obsessing? Anyway, because biscuits in the UK are very different from biscuits here in the South, clarification was needed. Hence, the website. Have YOU ever tried to explain what a Southern biscuit is? It isn’t easy, let me tell you. And visuals help. At least, I hope they do.
Meanwhile, the craziness continues here at home. Not only did BOTH of my dogs have to hit the emergency vet in the past few weeks after coming down with gastric issues on subsequent weekends, but today, while giving Monkey his Xanax, I dropped it on the floor. Coco dove for it, ate it, and of course I panicked. (Meg, I know I was joking about this happening with you, but then IT DID!) Called the emergency vet, who said we had to make her throw it up. Did we have hydrogen peroxide? No. So my husband gets on the phone, finds some at our neighbors, and races down there to get it. He comes back, we give it to her, she throws up, but we can’t tell if the pill came up or not. The vet says it’s probably okay, but we have to call Dog Poison Control, which we did, and they told us she’d probably be fine but just to keep an eye on her. Meanwhile, throughout all this, I’m trying to quiet Sasha, who’s fussing, and thinking, somehow I don’t think Brangelina deal with these kind of issues when THEY have a newborn. But maybe I’m wrong?
(Side note: just to call canine poison control, you have to pay $55 bucks. They talk to you, then ask for a credit card number. My question is: what if you just hang up? Not that we were going to, but I bet some people do. Maybe they call you back?)
It’s all so crazy, you almost do need a biscuit. Or two. But something tells me Brangelina don’t do that either. Oh, well.