I’m beginning to feel like the girl in this Mary Cassatt painting–any minute now I’ll just collapse in a frustrated heap! On Tuesday, I’m leaving for the RWA conference in Dallas. So today that means one thing–packing. I am not a good packer. I have an aunt who travels to Europe and Asia a lot, she can take one little bag with 5 black and white jersey separates, 1 pair of shoes, and 2 scarves and look like Grace Kelly for a month or more. Not me. Even a casual family vacation seems to involve vast quantities of clothes and shoes, not to mention books. Hey, I never know what I want to read when I get there (a romance, a mystery, a biography?), and I want to be prepared! Plus they can serve as ballast in the bottom of my suitcase (I’ve been researching 16th century ships lately, you see).

Conferences are twice as hard. There are day outfits and evening outfits, each requiring shoes and bags and jewelry. My Regency-style gown for the Beau Monde Soiree (plus gloves, reticule, fan!). Shawls, because the air conditioning always seems set on ‘glacial’ at the hotel. Promo stuff, like books and cover flats (maybe I need a big sign saying Buy My New Book, Out in August! Please, I Beg You! Too over the top?). Makeup (my everyday makeup consists of a little concealer, lipgloss, and mascara, but conferences require enough products to see a diva through La Traviata, it seems). Zit cream–Very Important. Who wants to meet their editor with a huge pimple on their nose? A little notebook to jot down interesting gossip, er, very useful tips for Improving My Craft. And–I know I’m forgetting something.

Last night I made a ‘clothing chart’ with each day’s activities and what I plan to wear. Then I pulled everything from my closet and drawers and piled it all up in the middle of the bedroom floor. This morning, I woke up from an exceedingly pleasant dream (I was going to the Oscars with Orlando, and had these fabulous Louboutin shoes…) to find that everything had not miraculously leapt into the suitcase overnight. In fact, the cats had most unhelpfully slept on the pile, requiring a great deal of laundry and de-fuzzing.

It will all come together in the end, at least it usually does. In the meantime, I made a list of Things I Will Remember to Do at Conference:

1) Have fun, learn a lot, meet new people

2) Don’t squeal TOO loudly when first seeing friends in the lobby

3) Bring my cell phone charger (otherwise how can I find my friends to squeal at them?)

4) Drink plenty of water

5) Don’t talk about what a Terrible Person Agent/Editor Whatsit is in the public elevator. Not that I would, of course, but said Agent/Editor would be bound to be in that selfsame elevator

if I did (which I would not)

6) Act like–no, try to act like a Grown Up Author

Now, I have to go sit on my suitcase and try to get it to close. If you’re in Dallas next week, come look for us! Diane, Janet, and I will be there. Cosmos all around!

So, last weekend I had a Major Catastrophe in my life. Drama, tears, threats, wailing, the whole Marianne Dashwood-esque thing. I innocently went in for a haircut on Saturday afternoon, and thought it might be fun to get some “light, summery highlights.” To look pretty for RWA and all. Alas, at this salon it seems “light highlights” translates to “make my whole head look like a marigold.” Yes, my hair was orange, and only hours before my second date with Workplace Sweetie! My mother’s colorist (who I called, sobbing, when I got home) said she could probably fix it, but couldn’t fit me in until Friday. In the meantime, I would just have to wander around quoting mournful poems in the rain in true Marianne fashion–and hope that the water would somehow wash away the orange. (Luckily we have had a LOT of rain here lately). I also made hats and scarves my friends.

I’ve always kind of liked my hair. It’s thick and shiny, a nice, dark chocolate color, and seldom lets me down (unlike, say, my stubbornly unflat abdomen). I was surprised to find how much I take it for granted. And that so much of my self-identity seems tied up in being a brunette. Audrey Hepburn, Coco Chanel, Anna Pavlova, Jackie O., Ingres’ Princesse de Broglie–all women I would like to look like (not to mention Rachel Weisz and Penelope Cruz). All brunettes.

I started thinking about romance novel heroines, those girls who have flowing curls on the covers and hair like ‘spun moonlight’ in the text (even though in reality they probably seldom washed it, and there were no deep conditioners and frizz-release gels). How often do they fall into categories of ‘intellectual’ brunettes, ‘angelic’ blondes, ‘fiery’ redheads? In my own writing I try hard not to fall into these types–Rosalind, the heroine of my Regency Rules of Love, is a redhead, but she’s very proper and, well, rule-bound. Marguerite, the French assassin from my recently finished manuscript, is blonde, but not angelic. But very often I found that my heroines are studious girls with dark locks. Hmmm. Wonder where THAT comes from?

I’m reminded of Anne of Green Gables, and how her hair turned green and had to be cut off after a run-in with some cheap hair dye. I feel for Anne, I really do. You just can’t escape from your hair-color destiny. I’m also reminded of Marie Antoinette and her poufs, those super-elaborate hairdos built on scaffoldings of wire, cloth, gauze, horsehair, fake hair, and the woman’s own hair (if it hadn’t all fallen out after such abuse). It was all teased high off the forehead, doused with powder, and installed with miniature still-lifes, usually to express a sentiment (pouf au sentiment) or commemorate an event (pouf a la circonstance). What could my orange hair commemorate? Solidarity with the grapefruit juice industry? (I do like grapefruit juice, but never much wanted to look like it). A desire to match my new bottle of Chanel Heatwave nail polish? I just don’t know.

Have you ever had a hair disaster of your own? Are there any novel heroines or celebrities whose hair you covet? (I’ve always really liked Gwyneth Paltrow’s, but I’ve learned my hard lesson about trying to go blonde in any way!)

Oh, and the date went great, even though I had to tie a silk scarf over my hair that made me look vaguely like an extra from Pirates of the Caribbean…

And yesterday my mom’s colorist gave me back my dark hair! Not exactly like my own color (it’s quite a bit redder), and it’s dried out from all the abuse, but much, much better. You won’t have to look for my orange head floating around in Dallas.

One thing I love to do when on vacation is look at local real estate listings and imagine what it would be like to live in them, to have a whole new life in a new place. (That’s also one reason I like to write–imagining what it would be like to be a different person in a different era!). Sometimes I don’t even have to go out-of-town to play this game.

Since I work in an academic library, I get to see wide variety of magazines and newspapers as they go on the shelf, including lots of publications from Europe. One of my favorites is the very posh-looking Country Life, which has articles about things like carriage-driving, the latest in wellies, gardening, and “Around the Salerooms,” where you can see what’s coming up at Christie’s and Cheffins (this month–the remains of Marie Antoinette’s marble bathtub for 3, 529 pounds, and “The Grosevenor Gold Cup, won in 1774 by Mr. Norcop’s brown colt Intrepid” for 117, 250 pounds. Makes those bits of bathtub look positively cheap. And there’s also a snuffbox from the coronation of George IV, a bargain at 329).

They also have real estate listings, and I spend a long time poring over this feature every month.

After much thought, I think I’ve finally settled on the right abode for me (see the pics). It’s in Cambridgeshire, “a magnificent Grade II listed 18th century family home situated in the heart of the tranquil village of Castor.” There are 8 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, sitting rooms, drawing rooms, maid’s rooms, a mud room, 1.6 acres of “superb” gardens, plus a coach house and stable block. There is plenty of room for our Risky Regency Retreats. I can just see myself puttering around in the garden, wearing the latest in wellies (pink ones, 50 pounds, proceeds going to the Breast Cancer Haven, page 54). If I could just figure out how to find an extra 950,000 pounds…

What would your dream house be? And who is up for a Regency Retreat in the tranquil village of Castor???

Tonight, thanks to Megan’s Good “Romance in the Workplace” advice, I’m going on a date! There’s this guy at (you guessed it!) work that I’ve had a crush on for a while. But I’ve been too shy to do anything about it, because: A) I’m always too shy to ask someone out, B) Well, duh, I work with him, even though he’s in a different department, C) He’s younger than me, and oh-so cute (he looks kind of like Adrian Grenier, hence the picture). But, at Megan’s urging, I went for it, and tonight we’re going out to a wine bar! (BTW, I read in Marie Claire magazine–speaking of Megan–that Adrian plays in a “country/glam-rock/ukulele” band in his spare time, which just makes him more adorable). Now I have to decide what to wear…

Speaking of what to wear (and also of Adrian Grenier, who played Anne Hatheway’s boyfriend in Devil Wears Prada, and AH plays Jane Austen), I got the Jane Austen Centre Newsletter a few days ago. There’s an article about a costume from the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice up for sale here. It might be kind of fun to own a film costume, but: A) it costs more than $6000, money that could go far in my ‘research travel fund’, B) it’s really quite ugly, C) who could wear it besides Size Double Zero Keira? If I was going to spend thousands on a movie costume, I can think of a few I would much rather have. There are at least 3 from Marie Antoinette, the lacy green dress Gwyneth Paltrow wears to Box Hill in Emma, and the purple striped travel suit and big hat from Titanic (I still lust for that hat).

I also learned from the JAC newsletter quiz that the Austen character I most resemble is–Marianne Dashwood! I took a similar quiz a few months ago with the same result. I was kind of hoping I’d become more Lizzy Bennet-ish in the meantime, but oh well. I will just go write a dramatic poem about it!

Now, I’d better go and practice my eyeliner-applying skills for the Big Date (just bought a supposedly “user-friendly” eyeliner from Clinique, plus a gorgeous new Chanel nail poilsh called “Heatwave”–a sort of mix of pink, coral, and red, with a shimmer). Is there a particular movie costume you’d like to own? And which Austen character are you?