I know I promised pictures,

I’m in a severe state of wedding denial. We’ve been luxuriating in this long engagement period, thinking there will be plenty of time to think about things later. But suddenly it is “later” and I’m not really thinking about things. High on my concern list now is finding an officiant. Which, if you want a civil ceremony, is not so much handed to you on a little wedding pillow. Didn’t any of you get married in New York and have the best civil ceremony officiant ever? I would like to hear about that, please.

Honeymoon? I think we’ve narrowed it down to a trip around Barcelona, a road trip around California wine country, a New England bed-and-breakfast jaunt, or something involving a free RV in the Midwest. So we’re practically booking tickets and throwing clothes in bags. Maybe I can win some sort of vacation between now and then.

I’m putting together a panel on writing and publishing the short story for June’s seminar, which involves a lot of contacting authors and waiting to hear back. Since I do most of my contacting by email, I receive most of my replies the same way. But every once in awhile, someone will call my cell phone, and it is the most disorienting thing. Because when you’re rushing out of your apartment on your way to work (say, this morning), the last person you expect the “Unknown Caller” to be is Joyce Carol Oates. But sometimes it is. And you are left to sort of flub over your words while she politely tells you she’ll be in England, but thanks for the invitation.