'Scuse typos. I'm inebriated...

Tonight were the Daphne du Maurier Awards, for which Hard Evidence was a finalist. Roxanne St. Clair won in my category — single title — but it was great to be one of the five finalists. Extreme Exposure was Daphne finalist, as well, so that's two for two, which is great.

Author Ann Christopher, whose books I enjoy, was there with me, as was my wonderful friend, Bonnie Vanak, whose Egyptian historials rock. Ann won a gift basket. Bonnie treated me to so many drinks that I'm typing about 40 letters for every word that successfully makes it onto this page.

(Note to readers: When you can edit reasonably well after this much alcohol, it's proof that you've been a journalist for a loooooong time. So please respect this particular skill set -- um, I guess it's called drunk typing. Not sure. You're the sober one. Figure out a name for it.)

Anyway, yeah, so Sara Megibow, who is my cousin and who works as an assistant for the Kristen Nelson Agency, was also there. God, I love seeing her here!!!! She got her start in this industry (OK, I'm bragging) by reading my manuscripts. She would read them and offer feedback, and she loved doing it so much she decided she needed to turn it into her career. And so she asked me how she could turn reading unpublished manuscripts into a day job and I said that I had no bloody idea. But she did it. And now she's here at RWA with me, and I adore her. Even when I'm not drunk.

OK, what was I saying???? No clue.

Oh, yes. CJ Barry/Samantha Graves was there, as well, so she and I got to get caught up a bit. That's the great thing about RWA — so many of my friends in one place! (namely, the bar.)

So I wanted to head out with the RBL Party Crew — Su and Leiha are here — but I was pretty worn out after the Daphne and came back to my room instead. Then Bonnie and I decided we should talk, so we went to the bar for one drink. One. Hahaha. OK, but I am in my room now (obviously, duh).

Thanks for your posts, everyone. Bonnie and I drank a toast in Ronda Thompson's memory tonight. Then we drank to the RITAs on Saturday night. And then we drank for the hell of it.

My mother arrives tomorrow. She's flying in from Montrose, Colo. (Look on a map.) I'm so honored and excited to have her here. I want her to meet my agent and my writer friends. It's a part of my life that is completely new to her.

Did I mention that the convention hotel is very close to the grassy knoll — think Zapruder film — and the place where John F. Kennedy was assassinated. When we drove past the knoll, I jumped up in the bus and said, "Oh my God, it's the grassy knoll!" And people looked at me like they thought I needed lithium.

OK, this is a rambling go-nowhere post.

Let's see how coherent I am tomorrow in the A of M when all the booze has worn off and only the pain remains.