Whoa There


*thanks to the lovely Cheryl Cardall for this photo post-Women's conference.
*no thanks to her four sisters who were too embarrassed to say hello.

Do you remember Mike Tyson's Punch Out?

That was me Saturday night, throwing punches, boxing, weaving trying to stay alive until I could no longer function. After a weekend of speaking engagements and social engagements and general engagements, I fell to the horrid T. K.O. I succumbed to the shakes, aches and overall I AM SPENT-ness. I was left lifeless in the ring with the snake charmer/genie floating over me, taunting me. Shoot, that snake charmer/genie opponent, I could never defeat him.

(If you don't know Mike Tyson's Punch Out none of this will make any sense.It might even sound bizarre.But seriously, where we're you in the 90's? Nintendo-less?)

Praise be, my good in laws were in town and watched over my children while I recovered in slumber. I slept like a teenager with a growing constitution. I slept until the cells in my body screamed to be awake. I slept like pre-children.

And now I am back. I am back to tell you, the next big event in my life is happening on Friday. If you live within, oh let's say, eight hours of driving distance I think you should come. Okay, ten tops. Ten, maybe eleven, twelve or thirteen. Let's just say this: driving in from Missouri would not be too far. Ok, just everyone who can read this? COME:


Fictionist is so hot right now, they are primarily responsible for the direct rise in temps around here (thanks Fictionist, April was freeeezing). Plus, they told me they want you to come AND bring your chairs and blankets AND dress uber warm. Because even though they're hot right now, they can't guarantee your inner temperature. It's in their contract.

And one more thing, I'd like to rescind my earlier invite to everyone on this planet. I'd like to dis-invite the snake charmer/genie. He cannot come to my concert. It's personal.




email me: cjanemail@gmail.com

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