Hold the phone, stop the presses, pause the DVD, reverse sun damage, halt memory loss!

Major news today. My editor is leaving HarperCollins for Random House. What does this mean for Riding with Larry Resnick? I’m not sure yet, but so far, it’s not good news for my digestive and nervous systems. I just got off the phone with my agent, and she’s in the process of sorting out our options. There’s a possibility that the book will stay at Harper, and there’s also a possibility that it will move with my editor to Random House. I don’t know what this means for the book’s publication date or format.

I. Am. Freaking. Out.

Okay. Deep breath. This is actually fairly common in publishing, I’m told. Editors change houses frequently; sometimes books and authors go with them, sometimes they don’t. I hope that I’ll continue to work with Jill, as I adore her. And I am incredibly lucky to have a terrific agent in my corner. I’ll let you know more as the situation develops. Or deteriorates. In the meantime, I will be arranging the following supplies on my desk: a paper bag, a vat of aspirin, a tub of TUMS, a case of whiskey, an MC Hammer CD (to remind myself that it could always be worse), and a framed picture of Tom Cruise (again, to remind myself that it could always be worse. I could be batshit crazy.).

Ah, what else. Oh, I sprained my ankle! Was I: a) rock climbing at High Cliff State Park; b) training for the Fox Cities marathon; c) assaulted by a gang of rough-and-tumble first graders at the park; or d) jumping three lousy feet from my stair-less back door onto our new driveway?

If you answered d), you win a prize! It’s an invisible gift certificate to TGI Fridays. Anyway, the ankle’s healing nicely, but it upset my plans for sharing a Very Special Blog Entry with you. I wanted to post some photos of graffiti recently spraypainted on an elderly couple’s garage, because I thought it would be entertaining and crime-fighting all at once. Unfortunately, I’ve had limited mobility for the last few days and haven’t made it to their end of the neighborhood.

Basically, one wall read “Ninjas of One!” and the other played canvas to a giant, top-heavy penis. The latter looks especially lovely next to the stained-glass angel hanging in a window. I still don’t know if the homeowners are aware of this recent burst of artistic tomfoolery, but I do know the city has arrested about five hooligans in connection with this latest rash of no-talent vandalism.

Speaking of tomfoolery, there was another incident of domestic violence across the street earlier this week. This time it involved vigorous shouting, slap-fighting, and chair-throwing between siblings and Dad on the deck, in full view of the general public. Months our new neighbors have lived in their home: three. Visits by the police in that timeframe: five.

Can I move now?

On a brighter note, last night I saw the cutest animal ever invented. A baby miniature pony. Seriously, it was so cute that tears actually welled in my eyes. I am still upset we didn’t have our camera with us.

And finally: 100 second-shifters at a cheese factory near my parents’ place recently won the $208 million Powerball jackpot. I love this! But I do feel for the first-shifters that weren’t in on the pool. (Including the parent of one of my childhood friends.) To dish how you would spend your lotto winnings, visit Eileen Cook's site.

Now, I'm off to nurse my angst-iety by looking at more photos of cute miniature ponies online.