We were only gone for five days but so much happened. Also, just being out in the world with my little Juliette, just the two of us, was its own little experience. It was nice to spend time alone together. I came home feeling more bonded to her than ever. I think it will be so interesting when these girls are grown up to see what they think of all these little trips I took them on, all the book signings I dragged them around on.

We stayed at my half-brother’s house in Virginia Highlands and he forbid me to put up a photo of him, so all you get is this one of Jules on his couch. I hadn’t seen Mike in a few years and it was so nice to spend time together. He’s my oldest half sibling, twice my age, and reminds me of my dad so much.

On Sunday I got to have brunch with my friend Tonia. She drove all the way up from Florida so that we could catch up a bit. I met Tonia in fourth grade when we moved to Florida and she became my first real BEST FRIEND. As in we had those broken heart-shaped necklaces and wore the same outfits to school and wrote in our diaries together and had a million sleep-overs and I’ll never forget watching the very first episode of 90210 on her living room floor, and on and on. (If you’ve read my book she shows up in Chapter Two, the K-Mart stealing chapter.) She has two kids now and I’m so can’t even believe that she was able to steal away for a quick visit.

I also caught up with two of my best friends from high school, Lucy and Laura. These girls are part of a small handful from high school whom I’ve remained close with all these years. I can’t even describe how lucky I feel to have friends like this in my life, people who have known me since the days of learners permits and seen me through the deaths of both of my parents and the births of both of my girls. We’ve shared proms and boyfriends and cross-country road trips and break ups and moves and drunken nights and weddings and divorces and I know we still have so much ahead of us.

I spent a whole afternoon driving around my old neighborhood of Sandy Springs. Juliette was asleep in the carseat for most of it but that didn’t stop me from pulling over and pointing things out to her. A bakery my mom used to take me to, the Chinese restaurant that my father always ordered from when it was his night “to cook,” my elementary school, the house I grew up in. I had a lump in my throat for most of it, but in a good way.

I capped off that nostalgic afternoon with dinner at one of my mom’s friend’s homes. My mom and Susan met one afternoon at Chick-Fil-A when I was only three of four years old. Susan’s daughter Eleanor and I recognized each other from Montessori, and that afternoon over chicken nuggets, our moms became fast friends. Years and years of playdates and trick-or-treating and sleepovers and vacations ensued, and even though my mom is gone now, Susan has never missed a birthday, graduation or really any special occasion of mine, and it has meant the world to me.

Eleanor just became a mama herself and our dinner altogether on Monday night was bittersweet, none of us able to quite fathom how my mom wasn’t there with us. We decided that in some way she just had to be, because there was no way that Susan was going to get to enjoy becoming a grandmother without her.

Years ago I would have perhaps been too sad to get through this evening without my mom, but I don’t feel like that any longer. Instead I found myself profoundly grateful to be there at all, with my sweet beautiful baby, meeting Eleanor’s sweet, beautiful baby and enjoying time in a house that I had so many fond memories in.

During all of these days I was thinking about the reading that was coming up on Tuesday night. I’ve done so many readings and events in the last year, but I knew that this one would be different than all the rest. This one was taking place in my hometown, where I was born and raised. I knew that friends of my parents’ would be there, people I’ve known since I was a baby, strangers, blog readers, high school teachers. Over and over for the days leading up I ran through the things in my head that I wanted to say to everyone, the gratitude I wanted to express.

At each reading I’ve done in the last year I’ve felt so fortunate to be able to acknowledge and express thanks to particular people. Atlanta was no different, and possibly would have more people than ever that I would want to thank. That’s the funny thing about writing a memoir, I guess. It’s different than a novel. My book is about my life and my life wouldn’t be what it is without the people in it.

When Tuesday night finally arrived I was very nervous, but tried to stay calm. It’s not easy to walk into an auditorium full of people and take the stage. I’ve never had any training in it and I’ve just had to kind of learn how to do it this last year. While the crowd assembled I hid out in a back room of the library trying to get Juliette to fall asleep.

On top of all of it, the date, January 8th, would have been my friend Julie’s 35th birthday, and there were so many people in attendance who knew and loved her. I was glad that Juliette, her namesake, was there for it.

Just before the reading started the person I had anticipated the most arrived, my high school English teacher, Pearl McHaney. I hadn’t seen her in over a decade and couldn’t take my eyes off her once she entered the room. It was amazing to see her after all these years with my daughter.

Pearl agreed to introduce me and I sat in the front row of the auditorium with tears in my eyes as she talked about meeting me in tenth grade and her experience of seeing my writing talent bloom, and then more about my book and my writing and the woman I’ve become. I recorded the whole thing on my phone and am so glad I did because it all happened so fast and was like a dream, one of those weird things that you can barely imagine happening in your life.

And then I stood and took the stage with shaky legs. I stood at the microphone and had to pause for just a minute. I wanted to take just a second to really be there in that room. My whole life I dreamed of being an author, of writing books and giving talks and of one day getting to thank all the people in my life who supported that dream, and here it was happening and I didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

After that moment though it really all did rush by. Such a blur of hugs and tears and so many people I hadn’t seen in so long and whom I wanted to talk with all night. And over and over, so much gratitude for all of it.

It went by too fast and before I knew it the next morning had arrived, bright and cold, and I was on a plane back to Los Angeles and my little life. Juliette slept for a long time on that flight and I just stared out the window, replaying the night before, the whole trip and thinking, really? All this? I get to have all this?

Thank you.

I was home on the couch with Vera when the mail came in, our copy of EW came sliding through the mail slot in the door. Greg walked by and picked it up and I said, “Check the book section, please.” See, most places will let my publicist know if they’re going to review a book, but not EW. You just have to check. So Greg flipped to the back, scanned the three pages of books there and shook his head. “Nope,” he said, tossing the magazine onto the couch next to me and heading out for a bike ride.

I didn’t think much of it. Although EW is my big fantasy I wasn’t holding out major hopes that it would really happen. A few minutes later though my phone buzzed with a late-in-the-day email from my publicist in New York. “I just turned to the Entertainment Weekly calendar in the February 3/10 issue and under the first books heading of “Stuff We Are Looking Forward To” is your book!!! Have a great weekend!”

I snatched up the issue lying beside me and flipped to page 5 and there it was. (pictured bottom left)

I promptly burst into tears. This seems to be my go-to reaction when things like my wildest dreams come true.

You’re probably shaking your head. Entertainment Weekly? Not The New York Times? Not The New Yorker? And it’s just your name and the title, anyway, not even a blurb. Well of course, those other publications would be great, and an actual review in EW would be even better, but still, I’m just overjoyed.

Entertainment Weekly likes me! They really like me!

See, I’ve been a subscriber for almost a decade. I wouldn’t call myself a pop-culture junkie, per se, but I really do like to know what’s going on RIGHT NOW with movies, TV, music and books. It’s a desire that immediately disappears every time I take a great trip somewhere far out in the world and realize how wrapped up in my little, American life I am, but nonetheless, it’s something I swim in regularly. Entertainment Weekly representing the weird epicenter of it all somehow. Therefore, being recognized by them is, in my book, bigger than even O Magazine. (Shhh, don’t tell Oprah I said that.)

So yeah, we can call everything else off now. I’m utterly satisfied. And I’m also now a life-time subscriber to Entertainment Weekly.

My book will officially be out two weeks from tomorrow and I think from here out it’s going to be pretty interesting to see what happens. Publishing a book is such weird business. It could come out to a completely flat response. Alternately it could be a hit within a week or two. A more likely scenario is the slow-burn, wherein word spreads slowly and the book does moderately well. For now it’s a matter of me staying calm and trying not to check things like Amazon sales rankings for pre-orders, or obsessing over how many people have added the book to their GoodReads “to-read” list. (Both of which, I admittedly do on a regular unhealthy basis.) Speaking of GoodReads, there’s a give-away for my book going on right now. Enter to win!

Thankfully I have lots of things to keep my mind occupied. Interviews to answer, guest blog posts to write, book parties to plan (you’re invited!), clients to see, a toddler to run around after, a husband to nurture, plants to water, dishes and laundry to do, and a baby who is suddenly kicking around in my tummy ALL the time.

January is usually a really sad month for me. My friend Julie died eleven years ago last week and next week will mark 16 years since my mother has been gone. However, this January is feeling a lot more sparkly and exciting than usual, and for that I am grateful.