That was very strange. Somehow, this entire post was wiped out and I had to re-write it from the start.
It went something like this:
There is a theme today.While it seems the rest of the country is enjoying spring-summer weather, here in the mountains of California, we are getting a real whopper of a storm, with snow expected tomorrow and Monday. Nice fireplace weather for St. Patrick's Day.
I am presently not wearing anything green.
I do, however, have "green" in every book I've written, and here I offer up some little proof:
Beside the wood was a pile of green-glassed wine jugs, the big kind with screw-off metal tops and finger holes alongside their necks. Some were broken, some intact, most had their labels peeling away like dried leaves.
In the Path of Falling Objects:
The walls in the room came together unevenly, their yellowed paper coverings bubbling and peeling away in spots like dead skin, and the green carpet was frayed and stained with dog urine. Maybe it was dog’s.
The Marbury Lens:
Pale green scrubs, just the pants. Dark smears of blood down one leg. It was from my own hand.
I am as unremarkable as canned green beans.
Passenger (coming in October from Feiwel and Friends):
“This little green one is what does it. When you flip it over the bigger one there, that’s what brought me here.”
Winger (coming spring, 2013, from Simon and Schuster):
Joey just stood there, leaning against the pale green tiles of the wall, his arms folded, staring at me. I could tell he was mad.
“You should have just let him punch me, Joe.”
Joey didn’t say anything.
I left and went to bed.
And the next book, which is coming out in fall, 2013, which I am DYING to tell you about, but can't. Yet.:
A narrow steel ladder hung about 6 feet down from the roof’s edge. It was impossible to reach the bottom of it, so Robby and I rolled the heavy green dumpster across the alley and lined it up below the ladder.
Then we climbed on top of the dumpster in our socks.