Book update

We've had a good first half of 2021.

My five "Dr. Seuss" books were published over the past six months, and the board book version of "Three Grumpy Trucks" came out in May. All six are selling well.

I have one more Cat in the Hat Learning Library title coming out in 2022. I can't say what the future holds for writing more Seuss books after that, but I'll keep pitching.

I have two additional books that will be published in 2022 or 2023. One is about a leprechaun and the Easter Bunny. The other is simply about love, and is one of my favorite manuscripts.

Having finished a first draft of my first attempt at a novel, I've set it aside for a few months to attempt a first draft of another. I'll get the hang of it eventually.

I think I've made it pretty clear that it's tough to make a living writing children's books unless you live in a yurt in rural Kyrgyzstan. We live down the block from Jerry Seinfeld, so it's unlikely I'll ever support the family with my creative endeavors. Never say never.

To be clear, it's never annoying to get a check.

In non-book news, the Iowa Hawkeyes are NCAA wrestling champs. Jo has a new job--and I'm still employed. Samantha is doing great, and Ethan is home for the summer. Knock wood, the pandemic is finally behind us.

We are grateful.

My favorite Zoom backgrounds

 Manhattan Beach, California.

Central Park West.

The Brady House.

Fallingwater.

DeLorean.

Space Station.

Amalfi Coast.

Sailboat.

St. Lucia. (Not recommended for business calls.)

Paris.

Everest.

I am ready for the pandemic to end. But I am having way too much fun on Zoom.

New Year's check-in

I started thinking it might be time to retire this blog when my holiday newsletter looked like crap on a mobile phone, and I realized that Blogger hasn't updated its platform since phones were invented.

Free is still good, but at this point it's kind of like free fruit cake.

But we'll proceed.

Ethan has returned to college for the spring semester, and Samantha is living with her mom, so as of now it's just me and Jo and the two bad dogs living in this rambling two-bedroom apartment. It suddenly seems like 4,000 square feet.

2021 is the year we're transitioning "their bedroom" into "the spare bedroom." We're re-sanding the floor for the first time since 1929, and re-painting the walls from 2002 Baby Blue to 2021 Manhattan Co-op Gray. (Hoping the light gray redecorating trend hasn't passed yet.)

In process:

We're also going to pare down the furniture and junk to make it look less like a hoarder's den. "Would your mother-in-law be willing to sleep here?" is our guidepost.

In other news, I will have FIVE new books out in 2021--all Dr. Seuss. Two came out this month; the other three will be published by May. 

A board book version of Three Grumpy Trucks will also be released in June.

Other than that, I'm happy to be alive, grateful to be a husband and a father, optimistic that the Hawkeyes may finally win NCAAs this year, and more relieved than I even imagined to have a new president.

It's almost as if all the money for the border wall has been redirected to repair the rift in the space-time continuum.

Happy New Year.

2020 is almost over! Whew!

 

The Tarp Street Journal newsletter and holiday card were a little late out of the gate this year. I will blame it on YA novel writing. I spent about ten seconds on the photo idea--no time to order costumes or props--hey, how about just putting our heads on cartoon bodies?

I texted Samantha about the concept, and she texted back, "YES! We should TOTALLY do The Incredibles!"

And that was that.

I tried probably a dozen different photo-morphing apps before stumbling across a great one called PhotoLab. 

But I digress from what should be my main point, which is how grateful I am to have such an incredible family, and how happy I am to be with them during this final holiday of this crazy year. 

Here's one more link to the newsletter, if you somehow missed the one in the first line: www.TarpStreetJournal.com.

Happy Holidays, and may next year be incredible.

My morning walk in Central Park

I was up late last night. Obsessively checking presidential vote tallies in Arizona, Pennsylvania, and Georgia. As I did the previous night. Refreshing my browser every thirty seconds at 1 AM. When is the tranche of Pima County votes coming? My poor wife asleep next to me.

When I woke up this morning, Biden was ahead in Georgia. The day was sunny. I had time for a walk in the park.

By the time I checked Twitter again, near Central Park South, Biden was up in Pennsylvania. And I knew what it meant. Those of us who were up late refreshing our browsers over and over. We knew.

I try not to post about politics, because: (1) I'm not going to convince anybody, (2) nobody asked my opinion, and (3) I don't really want to know your opinion either.

But I will make a brief statement about human beings.

I believe in kindness, and fairness, and love, and respect. I don't care whether we share the same god, or the same holidays, or the same skin tone, or the same socioeconomic status, or the same anything. You do your thing. I do mine. We co-exist. We'll get along just fine. 

There is, however, a basic threshold of human decency that I require of others. It's a relatively low bar--God knows we all have our flaws. 

But it generally excludes people who are pathological liars, cheaters, narcissists, and, for lack of a better term, obnoxious blowhards. I avoid people like that. I don't support people like that.

I have a bit more tolerance for people who do. But, honestly? Not very much. If you're not Biff, but you're still one of the goons who stands behind him and laughs at his jokes and nods when he makes fun of others? You and I are not going to be close friends.

I am who I am. We all set our moral floors.

What I was thinking, all the way back home, was how green this park is. Still. In November. 

That green November softball field, and the yellow and orange leaves, and that phenomenal tree in the middle of the Sheep Meadow, and the playgrounds just waking up with the very first toddlers and nannies of the day.

And I know what everyone is thinking, as I pass them, every jogger and dog walker, everyone here in this wonderful anarchist jurisdiction of bleeding-heart liberal elites.

We're all smiling inside, and thinking how great it is to live in this melting pot of a place. And feeling grateful for the return of that basic threshold of human decency, however tenuous.

It was a nice walk this morning.

COVID Halloween!

 During the Berlin Airlift following WWII, an American supply pilot dropped candy to kids in East Berlin.

Halloween 2020 on the Upper West Side was our own "candy drop" during tough times. Several of our townhouse neighbors went all-out with their decorations. Ours was one of the few apartment buildings welcoming trick-or-treaters this year. But lots of kids came by--we gave away ten big bags of candy.

Some of our visitors...

We even made the local news--sort of--that's my back and arm at 2:53!

Hurray for candy and kids, and Happy Halloween forever and always!

The Halloween decorations of West 82nd Street