Je suis allee

It is a funny thing, this blogging deal.

My couple of posts last week notwithstanding, I'm not actually here.

I am, if my timing is right and luck is with me, sitting in an Amsterdam cafe sipping a frosty glass of Dutch ale with the lovely Nadine, whose blog never fails to put a happy smile on my face, while our kids (hers are the cute ones) romp in a nearby fountain or park learn bad English swear words from my punks.

All while Blogger and the miracle of the pre-scheduled post do their thing.

(I hope. You are talking, after all, about the person who couldn't figure out how to use a Blackberry to post from abroad, so had to settle for hurriedly writing several fairly crappy posts before she left for her two weeks overseas. It did wonders for my packing, let me tell you. In fact, I probably spent last week walking around Paris with only one pair of underpants, some mismatched socks, and my cat-vomit sweater, doing absolutely nothing to battle the Parisian image of Americans as icons of style.)

Just kidding. I did not bring my cat-vomit sweater. Come ON. I'm not stupid. It's summer there, silly!

But I can't actually tell you what I did bring, because well, in this crazy future post world, I haven't actually packed yet, because, like I said, I am busy future-posting. Keep up, wouldja?

I do know that, in a sad state of affairs, I did have my knitting planned out a month in advance, down to the crappy plastic needles there is no way any flight attendant could find reason to take from me. I am taking the 18 charts of Nefertiti to assist in my valiant efforts to keep my Air France flight aloft through the sheer combined force of distraction and busywork. And some other projects to do while I'm there, sitting in assorted cafes and drinking wine. (But not smoking cigarettes, Jen. I promise.)

The kids and I were also kept company on the flight over by another bloggy friend, who kindly provided us with the fruit of her many, many hours of toil:

Can you even imagine the sheer awe in oneself and utter joy at seeing your name on the front of a book? (Well... I mean, provided it isn't one about you committing securities fraud or being involved in a prostitution ring, of course.)

Anyway, there is really no one more deserving of having her own book than Denise, who is probably one of the strongest women I've ever known, and also one of the kindest. Go buy her book, darn it.

And I'll be back next week to tell you about my adventures in France and the Netherlands. I may actually be back home, now; this future post thing is hard to keep track of.

But if you're looking for something fun to do in the meantime, and know what's good for you, go get Denise's book.

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The folks over at humor-blogs are definitely going to buy Denise's book. 'Cuz it makes a great gift, and because I said so. And I come from the future, so you should listen to me.