Beer With Bookseller Chick

Finally, a chance to get caught up with the most famous Portland blogger and also my pal and former assistant manager Linsey. Her celebrity status making even brief tete-a-tetes difficult to manage, and getting through her entourage with a message being almost impossible, it was a delight to be IM'd by L.J. Schmidt herself yesterday morning. You may also know her from her brilliant contribution to the 2007 Writers' Handbook, chumming with Erica Jong, Neil Gaiman, et al. Being so genuinely happy for her keeps me from wanting to pull her hair and teeth out with jealousy. (Jealous writers, a lethal gang indeed!)

Bringing some humble home-grown tomatoes as a feeble tribute, I spied her tall and willowy self on her way to the Bagdad and we grabbed a table on the sidewalk and proceeded to drink beer. This now being late afternoon, I should add. No bodyguards, no entourage, just we two and keepin' it real talk about life, the universe, and employment status, books, and how life is better after 25. I let her go on at length about that, agreeing with her but not wanting to be a wet blanket about the crowding 50 part of this new wisdom she's gained. There's wisdom in Hefeweisen, too, and you can get wiser and still drive home in a couple hours.

We picked the Bagdad because we are both doggie-watchers, and there's so many cute dogs walking down Hawthorne on nice sunny days, and we are both dog-less. *sigh* When she isn't doing a Houdini to get out of her bra while stuck in traffic, or shooting blue comicbook covers with friends from Darkhorse, my friend is looking for some post-retail gainful employment in the publishing industry, preferably here on the West Coast. We both had to laugh about how picky we've become after having some time off, "No nights, no weekends, no holidays, no cold-calling, no commute," and realized this will probably mean inventing some kind of work situation and maybe a limited part-time thing for moms with kids in school.

"Another round, please" as our illustrated waiter-man swept by, a DEVO shirt and faux-hawk de rigeur. He was nice and patient with our three hour squat. The woman behind us with bright cherry hair was flirting with him, and two amazingly clean and ruggedly-handsome men in their 30s sat down together, but my gay-dar wasn't working. They looked and smelled good, so I guess it didn't matter, really. We were there for the parade.

Again, Linsey and I decided we should start a business together, but with no capital and lots of ideas, it's a tad early to draw up a business plan. She doesn't want to return to modeling, and I don't want to be a boss lady anymore. I am not a Border Collie type now. We both hope that the writing thing will come through somehow, as Julia and Natalie say, "Keep writing, no matter what, keep writing!" so we both do. That thing about the money...it may be temping in our futures, a nice office-y thing for a few months at a time that we leave behind at 5:30 so we can go home and hermit ourselves with everything else we need to do that actually feeds our souls.

For me, for now, that's okay, I did a stint with The Corporate Thing already, but Linsey is early on her ascent arc and the heavens are before her. The COOL and BIG job is ahead of her, so I'm going to dust off the reference letters template I drafted earlier this spring for her, and find that logo stationery I stashed somewhere in February.

Good thing I left my entourage at home, so that none of them could see my softer side and use it against me later; projecting all this ruthless talent is hard work.