Sammy Keyes "Goodbye" Party

Big apologies for being over a week late with this. My PC blue-screened me, and I have been struggling to get coordinated with a new system -- the pictures have been the big problem. But here are a few from the party, and a little summary. 

I still almost don't know where to start because the whole evening was like the coolest dream ever. An enormous amount of planning went into the event. We contributed what we could, but the Puyallup Library staff pulled off a night I'll never forget--full of surprises and such good energy that I know nothing could possibly top it.

We arrived at the Liberty Theater about an hour before the doors were supposed to open so we (the family band, Risky Whippet) could run through the 6 songs we were going to perform with some first-time Whippettes (who included editor Nancy, agent Ginger, RH sales rep Deanna, and seasoned Whippette and friend Carol).

The evening's house band (whose bass drum sported a Darren Cole & the Troublemakers logo) was running behind with their setup, so we went to an upstairs room where we ran through the set acoustically one time. That's all the back-up team got--but they did great when the boas and sunglasses went on and lights came up!

First, though, there was the filing in of hundreds of people, the guest book sign-in, the Sammy Keyes puzzle doing, and the handing out of free books to those sporting Sammy-style shoes....

A sort of mid-stream photo shoot with me and guests happened organically. Some have been uploaded to the Sammy Keyes Books facebook page (where we hope more pictures will appear before too long..)

After meeting people and mingling for a while, the library director, Tim Wadham, got up and made some introductions, and then it was time to see the Sammy Keyes documentary.

I wish I could tell you everything about the documentary, but it felt kind of like a dream, and then it was over. Some of the people we videoed during the Southern Loop of the tour were in it. (We sent them the footage and they used some of it, which was so cool.) It was like seeing friends pop up unexpectedly to say hi. My understanding is that some of the video they took at the party will be added to the documentary for the final cut. I'll keep you posted on the wheres and whens of being able to see it. Not sure right now!

After the documentary came the interview, which was conducted by a man who really is larger than life. His name is Walter Mayes and he has a personality and heart to match his six-and-a-half foot frame. I met him at a function in...maybe San Diego?...when I was a brand new author. I was by myself at some social thing and he came booming up to me with an enthusiasm that made me want to hold on and not let go. He gushed about How I Survived Being A Girl and was just so warm and effusive. He has a long history inside publishing and once you meet him, you don't forget him. He goes by Walter-the-Giant-Storyteller and he did a story time for little kids at the Puyallup Library the morning before the Sammy Keyes Party, which we adults all attended and loved. He did voices and sang and projected enthusiasm across the expansive library, and Mark and I are still singing his version of Wombat Stew.

Anyway, many months ago Tim arranged for Walter to be the MC at the party, and Walter conducted an onstage interview with Nancy and me which included a booming (and quite adorable) rant about why he was refusing to read the last Sammy Keyes book. (NO! I REFUSE! IT CANNOT END!)

After that, it was time for Risky Whippet and the NY Whippettes to get up and make some noise. It didn’t take but a song for the boas to be swaying and “my girls” to be having some fun. The songs we did were:

            Knock on Wood (dedicated to Sammiacs)

            Chain of Fools (the Marissa and Danny song)

            Birthday (Beatles' version, for birthday people—I had a picture in my head of a bunch of birthday people jamming around onstage with us, but the kids that came up were mostly terrified.)

            Burning Down the House (dedicated to Sammy)

            Love Comes to Town (a U2 song dedicated to Heather)

            The Sammy Keyes Song – this had a conga line break near the end of it where the Whippettes and I all came off the stage and formed a line with anyone who wanted to join in (and some I grabbed from the aisles and, uh, encouraged). The line snaked up and down the aisle and then ended in the “Sammiac mosh pit.” It was my favorite!

I was so busy that I didn’t get any of the food, but they served some of Sammy’s favorites, including mac’n’cheese with a dollop of salsa, and chocolate chip cookies. People ate while we signed books—we being me, Nancy, and Dan Yaccarino—who all inked copies of Kiss Goodbye, with Dan adding a Sammy drawing. These are so cool! I bought one each for myself and the boys, ‘cause I doubt the opportunity will ever arise again.

And we signed shoes. Lots of shoes. Clean ones, stinky ones…once that started, it was a little nuts, but also fun.

The party itself was overwhelming for me—having all those kids in Converse was awesome, but seeing people who had traveled great distances to be there was moving in a way I can’t describe. There were the people I knew, and then there were the people who know me through Sammy. One grandmother from Indiana met up with her granddaughter from New Mexico in Washington state because they have shared Sammy Keyes stories since the granddaughter was young. (She is now in college.) How awesome is that? And my cousin sent up a blanket that just blew me away--all the hardcover book jackets woven into a gorgeous throw. I just wanted to hold on to it all night.

I hoped that the party would be a night for everyone to remember—I had no clue how unforgettable it would be for me.  Enormous thanks to Tim Wadham and the Puyallup Library for everything they planned and arranged—not just for the Sammy Keyes Goodbye party, but for the entire Festival weekend. It was awe-inspiring, and a shining example of how a library can so positively impact its community. I’m still shaking my head in wonder

With a Ho-Ho-Ho & a Fa-La-La-La-La

The Edgar Dress #2 story is going to remain closeted for another week. I have to find a picture (which might take a while), and I'm still unpacking from last night's gig, where our family band played the "Second Annual Risky Whippet Christmas." It was a lot of work to prepare for the show, and haul gear, etc., but it was worth it for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which being that a lot of our friends came.

It struck me how it's been a hard year for many of us, and how nice it was to be able to be together and do something joyful. It's easy for adults to lose the "fun" in their lives, as it tends to get swallowed up by responsibility and general fatigue. But last night, everyone let go a little and recharged a little. There was dancing. And singing. And a crazed rendition of Partridge in a Pear Tree. And loud fa-la-la-la-la-ing through Deck the Halls.

There was also jingle-belling through Metallica.

Which came after audience singing the "oooooooo!"s in the choruses of Beatles' Helter Skelter.

Helter Skelter and Enter Sandman may not seem like appropriate songs for a Christmas Bash, but that's only if you aren't familiar with the comedic aspects of the Risky Whippet band. We turned Enter Sandman into Enter Santa-man, and with Colton's deep, "Ho-ho-ho"s and the demonic shaking of the jingle stick it became a Christmas song. Of sorts. Connor was all against it (and on paper it does sound really dopey), but by the third set the audience was all for it, and it turned out to be awesome fun.

So the Edgar dress will have to wait, and I instead post a picture of my Santa skirt. And now, with a ho-ho-ho and fa-la-la-la-la, I wish you, my faithful blogettes, a very merry Christmas. Sing. Jingle. Embrace life. Enjoy your friends and family. Have some fun.

Mother's Day (or, Remembering The Day The Whippets Became Risky)

Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who are moms.

That said, I will now confess that I don’t care for Mother’s Day. I feel sorry for the husbands and kids who are expected to send flowers and make breakfast and provide chocolates and clean up. Clean up! There are all these expectations swirling around an arbitrary day where we’re supposed to remind ourselves that mothers are special. I believe the intention of the consumer (never mind the financial beneficiaries of this Day of Appreciation) is sincere. But the whole thing just feels so artificial, and for the last few years I’ve really felt sorry for my kids as they try to figure out how to stay out of trouble.

Yes, trouble.

Because if you do nothing on Mother’s Day, you are in trouble.

If you sleep in past when Mom is hungry, you are in trouble.

If your dad rouses you at an ungodly hour and makes you set the table while your mom is pretending to be asleep but isn’t and can hear that Dad is the one making you do all the things you’re supposed to intuitively do even though you haven’t done them since last year when he roused you from bed at an ungodly hour and made you do them, you are in trouble.

It’s a very unnatural “holiday” with high expectations and misunderstandings because boys will be boys and moms don’t know how to be gracious about breakfasts delivered with a still-sleepy grunt.

Maybe your Mother’s Days are nothing like this.

Maybe you are (or have) a girl.

Sorry to be sexist, but it’s just different.

Anyway, my forget-chocolates-and-flowers-and-trying-to-cook,-all-I-really-want-is-a-homemade-card-where-you-tell-me-why-you-appreciate-me phase ended a few years ago when I told my husband to NOT DO ANYTHING or make the kids do anything. They were old enough to do something on their own and anything they were forced into wasn’t something I wanted anyway.

Mark had to work that Sunday and he was very nervous about this.

“Don’t say a word” I told him. “They know.”

So off to work he went.

And in they slept.

Until noon.

Because who was I to wake them up and tell them to fix me breakfast?

And then…well, whoops. They hadn’t made me a card. Or bought me chocolates. Or flowers.

“Uh…where’s Dad today?”

“At work, remember?”

They recovered not so quickly by offering to take me out for sushi.

It was 3:00.

Not wanting to be the Mother from Hell, I put on a smile and said, Great! So we piled into the minivan, and I drove us to the restaurant.

But I knew.

Neither had brought their wallet.

Before we went inside I asked, “You sure you have enough to cover sushi?”

They looked at each other and slowly an Uh-oh spread across their faces, fingers pointed at each other, and finally my younger son said, “But sushi’s expensive!”

Right.

Next door, was Taco Bell. They raided the change drawer in the van and managed to scrounge up about four dollars. Enough for some bean burritos.

Not wanting to be the Mother from Hell, I agreed to consume a gross bean burrito and I did it with a smile on my face.

It wasn’t easy.

On the drive home I tried to have a gentle talk with them about the small things that make a big difference to a mom. They said they got it.

And then we arrived home.

The first clue that this really was the Mother’s Day from Hell was the puddle of dog pee in the entry hall. It was pooled all over and around the beautiful antique petticoat table that I wrote about in an earlier post.

The dogs—Bongo and Jazz—who are sweet, wonderful whippets (and on this day became Risky Whippets), are only bad when they’re desperate. And since the boys hadn’t put them outside before we left for sushi (they are the boys’ dogs and have access only to the laundry room, the boys’ rooms, and the kitchen—they’re cordoned off from the rest of the house by a ‘baby gate’), and since they became desperate in our absence, they jumped the gate and raced around looking for an exit so they could do their business outside.

There was no way out.

And male dogs being leg-lifters proceeded to tag the entire house with their ample supply of stinky yellow liquid.

And, no, they weren’t just desperate to pee.

They laid logs.

And when I found some on an antique couch by a big window (which was as close to outside as the poor dog could get) I screamed. Like in an old fashioned movie, I held my face and screamed.

But wait!

There’s more!

In the process of cleaning up this disaster, my son, completely wigged out by what had happened and frantic to help fix the situation, accidentally sprayed me in the eye with Lysol.

Yes, I screamed again.

It’s been a few years, and although it will live on in infamy we now laugh about the Mother’s Day from Hell. But it served to create a shift in our family. I want daily hugs. Daily thanks. And on Mother’s Day, I want to go out for brunch (which we did today) and have nothing more than my boys beside me, happy to be with me.

Here’s hoping your Mother’s Day involved lots of hugs, love, and absolutely no Lysol spray.