let them eat cake

This weekend my mom and I went to the opening of Les Miserables at Moonlight Amphiteater. We bought lawn tickets, and they gave us little blue lawn chairs to sit on the grassy knoll up above the stage. We brought a picnic dinner--along with hundreds of other people who showed up early to lay claim to their patch of grass--and books to read and pass the time.

The show was great. The orchestra's live music so much better than any CD. The singing and acting was top notch. And we were watching by moonlight, which is pretty cool too!

During the fifteen minute intermission, the large group of about ten in front of us was celebrating someone's birthday. All of a sudden one of the women in the group stood up, turned around with a plate of cake in hand and said, "Cake anyone?"

I thought it was pretty funny. But then she proceeded to walk amongst all the show-goers behind us with plates of cake, offering it.

"We're celebrating a birthday tonight," she said. "My daughter, the one in the gray hat," pointing back to the family behind.

She approached my mom and I with two plates of cake. "Cake? We brought lots of cake to share. I know you want a piece!" We took a piece to share. It was chocolate, with a layer of sugary sweet icing in the middle and piled on top.

I'm pretty sure she handed out a lot of dessert that night. I wonder how big that cake was? Pretty cool way to celebrate your birthday, huh? Sharing your cake under the moonlight, on the grass, with a bunch of fellow drama-lovers.

pride & joy

This week one of our big books came back from the printer. This particular book is big in more ways than one. Size. Price. Quality.

I'm not sure how many pounds that book is, but the hard cover behemoth sure isn't small! Its retail price is over $300. Yes! $300 for one book! I can hardly believe it myself, although I am starting to grow accustomed to these big buck books that actually sell.

But the most exciting thing is what is inside the book. There, on the acknowledgments page, is my very own name. This is not the first time my name has appeared in a book--after all, my mom is an author. But that's a little bit different.

She knows me.

The editor of this book, a genius doctor in the Midwest has never met me. Yet there is my name in the front of his book, thanking me for helping bring the book to reality. How cool is that?

This is the thing I like most about my job in the publishing industry. Not getting my name printed inside a book (that just makes me feel good about myself!). But building relationships with all these authors. Talking and walking them through the process of bringing their manuscript to life. It is their pride and joy.

And then it becomes mine.

Even if it does have graphic pictures of neck surgery on the cover.

under the stars

Last night a couple friends and I headed over to Balboa Park to watch The Parent Trap (the Hayley Mills version--no Lindsay Lohan for us!) out on the lawn by the San Diego Museum of Art. It was, I think, the quintessential summer night. Hundreds of people covered the grass, sitting on blankets and camping chairs, sipping wine and eating cheese and crackers. Dogs hovered on their leashes, yearning to sniff around and see what goodies the neighbors had brought for the event.

There were a some clouds in the sky, and as the movie started, the moon rose up between the eucalyptus trees over the museum. Big, white, and luminous, it shifted across the backdrop of cloud, like a pearl against gray silk.

Unanimous laughter spilled across the lawn at all the funny lines. Some people talked back to the characters in the movie.

It was sensational.