The Bloggess

Y’ALL.

Okay, so I have been in a very deep depression lately so I had an emergency ketamine session and I’ve been following all of my normal tools and they’ve helped but I was still struggling a little and finally I admitted that this house is just too sad after the loss of my two geriatric heart kitties who decided to leave me in a single week. I’ve been putting off looking at cats because grief is hard, but also I was thinking that maybe I could foster a kitten and that would give me a sweet distraction so Victor called a shop that has rescue cats and asked if they had any orange kittens available to foster and the guy was like, “I don’t know what breed they are” and Victor was like, “I don’t think orange is a breed?” and the guy was like, “Oh” and Victor said, “Soooo…could you go check?” and then you could hear the guy yell, “BRO WHAT BREED ARE THOSE KITTENS?” and after some mumbling he came back and said, “They’re a mangled mix” and Victor was like, “THEY’RE MANGLED?” and the guy said, “Yes, sir. They’re a mangled mix” and Victor was like, “I’m just checking again…did you say they’re mangled?” and the guy sighed in frustration and said, “It’s a mangled mix. They’re not full-blooded mangled” like he was letting us down that they were only partially mangled and I whispered “Do people want mangled kittens?” and Victor just shook his head and the pet store guy said, “I don’t know what else to tell you, bro” and then he hung up and we just stood there looking at the phone.

Then Hailey walked in and asked what was happening and I explained and Hailey said that maybe the kittens were “bengal-mixes” and that makes more sense but it still felt questionable. We went to an adoption drive and I held a few babies but none of them felt like they wanted to come home with me. But then Victor was on our neighborhood discussion board and a lady had rescued some very hungry, very flea-ridden feral kittens behind a trash can at a horse farm but couldn’t keep them…and one happened to be an orange boy who needed socializing. And I said no because my heart hurt a little but then the next day she posted again that the orange boy had purred for a few seconds and really needed a home and so…

We went over and I loved on him but he wouldn’t purr for me, which seemed like a sign, and so I said that I’d foster him and socialize him and get him all his shots and then find a good home for him. And he snuggled up in a towel and slept every second other than when he was getting shots and dewormed and checked out by the vet who gave him a clean bill of health other than lots of fleas and a prescription of lots of rest.

He slept in a nest of towels I made in my shower and made tiny hisses when we came near, but then at 3am he settled down and purred so loud I literally cried.

And within about a day this happened:

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And now I have a kitty.

But I do not have a name, which is not surprising since every animal I’ve ever had has had multiple names until one fit. (Dorothy Barker was named “Knives” for two full weeks.) We’ve had many fantastic suggestions, including:

The Big Le-meowski

Will Feral

Orange Julius

Olipurr Twist

Wilfur Brimley

Claw-nopin (because he was so laid back when he first arrived we thought he was sedated)

Catrick Swayze

Norman Meowler

Truman Catpote

Freddy Purrcury

Hissy Bordon

Meowrice Sendak

George Purr-nard Claw

Bananas Foster

Lando Catrissian

Catpurrnicus

Mewlius Ceaser

Fur-cules (rhymes with Hercules)

Winston Purr-chill

Atticus Finch

William Shakespurr

But currently we are testing out these top contenders:

Pierre Pawgust Renoir (because Pierre August Renoir was famous for painting with a cat on his lap, so much so that many of his later paintings were identified because of the cat fur mixed into the paint.)

Tanuki (Because tanuki are known in Japanese lore as being mischief makers and also because Victor wants to buy a tanuki statue and so when he said “If you get this cat then I get the tanuki” and I was like, “Deal” but then I was like, “I could just call him ‘Tanuki’ and then you don’t even need the statue.” He disagreed, which is fair.

But the leading favorite is Percy. Because I love a good nickname and Percy can be Purr-cy Bysshe Shelley, or Persimmon because he’s so orange, or Perseus because he has tiny bites on his nose that look like a constellation, or Omicron Persei 8 because Futurama.

Suggestions still accepted.

PS. When I started this post I had to stop a dozen times because Purrsy was furious at the state of my writing desk and decided to clean it by just knocking shit off and eating stray papers I needed:

Deeply disappointed in me.

But then he flopped into my lap and is currently purring so loudly and demanding so much attention that I can’t even finish this properly or go back to fix all the typos.

I mean…

Come on.

Discovered what petting was 48 hours ago. Now cannot stop demanding it.

PS. This is your sign if you are heartsick about a beloved pet who has passed that you may have more room in your grieving heart than you know. I didn’t think I was ready, but this is the best medicine.

Sorry this post took longer than expected…coming out of a depression that’s lasted a little longer than normal, but feeling mostly human again. 🙂

First up, How To Be Okay When Nothing Is Okay is on the Indie Bookshop Bestsellers list for the 6th week in a row (what???) and to commemorate I’m doing a giveaway over on instagram to celebrate Independent Bookshops and those who love them. Also, I’m seeing so many people saying that they’re giving the book to recent graduates and I’m getting emails from people who were gifted the book and have been helped by it and honestly, this is giving me life right now. Thank you.

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And now that I’m getting back some of my energy….more book tour stories from my diary!

At the airport a stranger said, “Did you plan that?” and I didn’t know what he was talking about until I noticed that my dress was the exact pattern of the wallpaper. Reader, I did not plan that.

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The lady sitting next to me on the plane: You won’t hurt my feelings if you want to switch seats because my baby is very needy and might be noisy.

The baby in question:

me: Ma’am, I would literally pay extra just to sit here with this distinguished gentleman.

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Spoke to a giant crowd in Austin at BookPeople. I was on the second floor and Victor said he’d stay on the landing of the third floor so that he could hear everything and I told him that was fine but that he couldn’t make any noises and he immediately started making ghost sounds, which is a terrible sign and so when I got on stage I explained that if you hear ghost sounds from above it’s just Victor because every time we order pizza I’m always the one who has to open the door for the delivery person and inevitably Victor will loudly (from another room) wail, “OoooOOOOoooooh! I’m a ghost….a teeeeerrible ghost” because he knows it’s embarrassing for me to even be perceived by the delivery person and I will have to say, “There is no ghost” to the delivery person who probably never even heard the moaning and is wondering if I’m insane. And then later Hailey started to do it too so when I opened the door for pizza I would hear “OOOOOhhhhooooohh! I’m a ghost” and then a different voice saying, “I’m a ghost toooooo. OOOOOhhhhoooh” and then I was like, “Fine. You’ve cured me. I’m no longer mortified when answering the door. I’ve reached the end of mortification through ghostly exposure therapy” and then Victor started going, “Oooooohhhhooooo! I’m a ghost with diarrhea.” And the delivery guy was like, “What is happening?” and then Hailey was like, “Oooooh, I’m a ghost with diarrhea toooooo. WhooooOOOOhooooo” and then we clearly had to move and I no longer answer the door for pizza. Anyway, I told this whole story on stage immediately after saying hello and I was like “And that’s why you’re about to hear ‘I’m a ghost with diarrhea’ being moaned from above” and then I paused and y’all….

DEAD SILENCE.

And I was like, “OH MY GOD REALLY?” and I could literally hearing Victor’s muffled and so instead of being embarrassed about being haunted by an unexpected ghost with diarrhea I was embarrassed by the lack of an expected ghost with diarrhea and I’m almost positive this shit never happened to Charles Dickens.

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In a signing line a very sweet woman handed me her book to sign and said, “My son lost part of his skull and he was able to get it back from the hospital but they made him sign papers saying that he promised not to eat it.” And I was like, “Was that a concern?” and we had a fascinating little conversation that I loved but was deeply confusing for the bookstore employee who was taking pictures but who had not read my book.

At that same signing I got several gift bags from people who said, “You can just open this later” and that’s always really nice because afterward I start to panic that people hate me and if I have letters and such to open it’s a weird sort of comfort. When I was done signing I was trying to consolidate everything into one bag and pulled out the back half of a dead rat from a gift bag, which seems like a threat unless you’re me, in which case it actually makes sense and is sort of thoughtful. And then I was like, “What’s really baffling is that this is the second half of a dead animal I’ve been gifted this week” and the bookstore employee was like, “NO, WHAT IS REALLY BAFFLING IS ALL OF THIS” and another employee was like, “Was the other gift the front half of an animal? Can you put them together and make them into one whole animal?” and I looked at her like she was crazy because they’re not legos but then I remembered that most people don’t know much about amateur taxidermy and so I just said, “Nope. Just the buttholes.”

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I always take a picture at the end of every reading and that’s usually when I realize that I have something in my teeth, my skirt is stuck to my underwear or I’ve inexplicably turned into a blueberry. I assure you, I am slightly less smurfy in real life.

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Did you miss seeing me on tour? Or did you have tickets but it was too scary to leave your car and go inside? (You are not alone and I’ve actually done this myself at other people’s events so do not feel bad.) Well…I’m going to have one more spot and you are invited and it is free and you don’t have to leave your house or even put on pants. It’s a zoom through Nowhere on May 29th and I’ll be doing a book reading and a Q&A and maybe special guests will pop in and we’ll be giving away fun things. Come! Click here to rsvp and we’ll send you a link to watch it. And if you order a copy from Nowhere I will happily sign it and draw a little kitty on it. The top half of the kitty. In case you were wondering.

I feel like I’ve forgotten to write something here but my mind is slightly mushy so please forgive me.

I am incredibly behind on so many things because the book tour took all of my attention (in a good way – more about this later) so this is just a little post to catch up on a few things.

First, I just heard that HOW TO BE OKAY WHEN NOTHING IS OKAY is still in the top 10 of the Indie Bestseller list for Indie Bookshops for the 5th week in a row! Thank you, you magnificent Independent Bookshops and all who support them!

Secondly…more book clubs…less book bans! If you’re a member of one of my bookclubs you know we’re always slipping little random surprises in and later this month we’ll be sending you a glittery Fiesta medal from Nowhere that I adore. (You can join us, here!) It’s like the BookIt pin (remember those?) but with octopuses.

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This month we’ll be sending Homebound by Portia Elan to members of the Fantastic Strangelings and House of Margins by Tootle Tsamaase to members of the Nightmares from Nowhere club. Both are so good. And if you’re looking for more great books, here are some favorites I’ve read in the last few months:

Third, there was a small run on Let’s Pretend This Never Happened after it was banned and so it was out of print for a little bit while the publisher did a reprinting, but it’s now available again so if you requested a signed one from Nowhere I’ll be there tomorrow signing all book requests and we’ll ship them right out. Sorry for the delay! Also, we still have some How To Be Okay merch that we’re slipping into packages while they last so make sure you check your mail so you don’t accidentally throw away a sticker sheet or magnet or bookmark or whatever else we may still have on hand. 🙂 All of my books are available here and they all come signed.

Fourth, next Monday I’ll be joining Anna Konkle (LOVE HER) to celebrate her new book release in Austin. Should be fun!

Fifth, if you’re not subscribed to my art substack you’re missing my sister’s testicles and my cactuses that might be noodles. Not sure if that’s enticing or not?

Sixth, I can’t remember the sixth thing. My meds have worn off. Dang.

Here is a list of ridiculous things that happened to me on book tour in no particular order, part 1:

Realized that my nipples were very obvious only minutes before stepping onto the stage and could think of nothing else so I just immediately apologized for my nipples to the large crowd. Then afterwards several people told me they didn’t see any specific nipples and then I felt like I needed to call everyone back to apologize for the lack of nipples. I bet this happened to Shakespeare all the time.

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Victor called as I was getting ready for a reading: What are you doing?

me: Ironing.

Victor: Who is this and what have you done with my wife?

me: FUCK I JUST BURNED A GIANT HOLE IN MY CLOTHES.

Victor: Oh there she is.

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Flying to Oregon. I ask the flight attendant for cranberry juice. She says, “Oh. We don’t have that here?” in a sort of baffled way so say, “Okay, do you have orange juice?” and she says, “Of course we have orange juice” like it’s weird that I would even ask. The girl sitting next to me whispers, “You thought you ordered cranberry juice, didn’t you?” I say, “Did I not?” No. Apparently I asked for cranberry sauce.

As if it was Thanksgiving.

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Signing a book to a woman named Michele who is telling me how much she loved a book I’d signed at Nowhere and had sent to her but I’m used to spelling Michele with two L’s so I accidentally sign it “To Michelle” but then try to fix it by adding “(WITH ONE L) OMG. I’M SO SORRY.” Michele opens up the other book I’d sent her before. It also says, “To Michelle (WITH ONE L) SHIT. SORRY!” I am nothing if not consistent(ly fucking up).

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Waiting at the curb for an uber to take me to an event. The uber keeps saying that it’s there but it’s not there so I end up standing awkwardly next to a teenage boy who is flipping one of those signs advertising a pizza shop for 30 minutes. He asks if I want to do something with him. I tell him I’m married. He says, “Oh, congrats. I gotta piss.” I wonder which of us has had a stroke. He clarifies that he needs someone to hold his sign while he pees in case his boss drives by. He teaches me the basics of flipping a pizza sign and I hit myself in the head twice and almost lose the sign to a gust of wind. When the uber arrives I make him wait while I continue to spin (and drop) the sign until the kid returns and tags me out. The uber driver takes me to the address but I’m looking out the wrong window and I say, “Is this it?” and the driver says “Uh…that’s you, right?” and points to a giant electric sign with my name and face on it and I sort of love the idea that he thinks I might be slightly famous but still pick up odd jobs flipping pizza signs on the sidewalk.

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I have lots more but this is getting long and I have to take the dog out. More later…

Oh, wait..one more thing! This is the 4th week in a row that HOW TO BE OKAY WHEN NOTHING IS OKAY is on the Indie Bookshop bestseller list, and I know the NYT one is fancier but I’ll take the Indie Bookshop list over it any day. That means that booksellers are hand-selling it, and book lovers are supporting their local bookshops and I don’t even have the words for how much I appreciate that.

A few days ago I told you that Hunter S. Thomcat had passed and I said that I would soon write funny happy stuff again but then Ferris Mewler took a very bad turn and the vet said it was time, so today he joined Hunter. Apparently this happens more often than we think…two bonded pets leaving at the same time…and I’m imagining them together and Hunter gleefully showing Ferris around in cat heaven and that’s making it a little easier to deal with.

I know grief is just love that doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but damn…it’s a lot. And now I’m staring at Rolly (last cat standing) and telling her she has to live forever, which she seems set on anyway because she is literally older than this blog and just keeps trucking. I suppose it’s possible that she’s some sort of cat highlander who becomes more immortal every time she outlives another cat but I’m not planning on getting another cat this year (to give us a little time to heal) so instead she’ll have to vampire off the houseplants that I continue to accidentally kill.

Anyway, I’m sorry for two very sad posts in a row. Today I’m going to cry a bit and then tomorrow I”ll’m going to try to be at Nowhere Bookshop for Indie Bookshop Day because being around people is probably a good idea and also because Indie Bookshop Day is our most fun day of the year, so if you see me, feel free to say hi. And Monday I’ll be speaking and signing at Book People in Austin (there are a few more tickets left) and they were going to have it at a church but they changed it to taking place at the bookstore probably because they know I have some sort of dark-aura vampire cat. Does any of this make sense? Sorry. It’s been a rough week. I’ll be better tomorrow.

So.

If you follow me on social media you may already know this but I had to take a few days to recover enough to tell you on here that sweet Hunter S. Thomcat has gone to the great rainbow bridge in the sky to eat unlimited churros forever.

He’d lost control of his lower body over the last year and this weekend he got to the point where he had more bad days than good and the vet said it was time. I flew home in time to say goodbye and cried so much that my eyes literally swelled shut. But then I was like, “Okay, deep breath, I’m lucky I had 14 years with him because even though he was our youngest cat that is still a long life for a kitty and I’m going to be okay” and then Ferris Mewler was like, “HOLD MY BEER” and immediately started acting weird and losing weight and doing that hunchy-back thing that cats do when they feel crappy. So we just got back from the vet who was like, “Look, we’ll do our best, but this cat is old, bro” and scheduled him for a bunch of tests this week and then I was like, “I have another cat who is 19?” and she was like, “Can I offer you a group rate on caskets?”

She didn’t really say that last part but if I don’t make myself laugh I am going to start crying again and my eyes can’t take it.

I also feel a little like I’m failing because the first weeks your new book comes out are so important and I should be blogging about it and telling you all my funny book tour stories but I am too sad to do it today so can you just pretend that I said something that made you go, “OMG, what excellent marketing, Jenny! I need 129 copies immediately” and I promise that in a few days when I feel a little better I will make it up to you.

This is where I should put a somber black and white in-memoriam picture of Hunter but instead I want to celebrate how much silly joy he gave me and everyone else and so I’m sharing this collage of him and Ferris that I shared on this blog 14 years ago this very week.

Thank you, sweet Hunter, for being my heart cat. I miss you.