Just in time for Derby weekend

My friend–actually more a member of my chosen family–Paul has written a script and is producing a movie, Brilliant Mistakes. You can read more about it here, and if you’ve ever wanted to be part of the film industry, giving a contribution will provide you that opportunity.

I was lucky enough to be asked for my input on the script, which I happily provided–that’s another way to make a contribution, right? And today I was totally surprised by this gesture of Paul’s gratitude, a wonderful cup from Tea Horse Studio. Now I’m not saying Paul can give you ALL a present like this one if you contribute. But he can make a terrific movie for you! So pony up!

Don’t worry if you think any donation you could make is small–as we all know, a lot of so-called “small” contributions can change the world–or can make a movie, and that movie may change the world. Or it may at least make people consider getting OFF THEIR PHONES when they drive, and aren’t we all wishing that would happen?

Thank you so much, Paul, and I wish you great success.

A touch of Canada

It’s been a long time since I did a coffee cup post! I received a new cup in today’s mail. Timmy and Paul got it for me when they were in Quebec last October. Thanks, y’all! I’m very fond of Canada. Or at least the Canadians I know. And Quebec makes me think of one of my favorite mystery writers, Louise Penny. Timmy–and everyone–if you haven’t read her Armand Gamache series, do it! They begin with Still Life. I’m so grateful that Johnnie and Murder By the Book introduced me to this series.

Posed in front of one of my paintings that will hang at Té House of Tea in May.

Hump Day Happy

I’ve featured this cup before, but classics–like the Beatles themselves–are always worth another appearance. Today I’ll be checking in between sewing sessions, so if you want something from one of these books to be happy about, please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll make sure you get answers during my coffee breaks.

Saturday’s coffee cup

I wrote this post Saturday afternoon and forgot to post it. I blame a good evening with friends.

I got this cup when I went to the Clinton Presidential Center in Little Rock in August. It turned out to be Rhonda’s designated coffee cup during Hurricane Ike. It was well used.

I like the quote: Nothing big ever came of being small, as I’ve always felt that small minds and small hearts will never give us big ideas, big dreams, big actions, and big solutions. I could go on and on about that, but I’ll spare you.

Saturday was a real TJB kind of day. While I was talking about politics, dogs, and suspenders to Jim on one phone, Timmy called on the other, and Tom told him I’d call him back. As Jim and I were finishing our conversation, Tim and Rex showed up, and Tim and I made a quick trip to High Fashion. Afterward, I returned Timmy’s call and had one of those conversations in which we both giggle a lot (and he promises cookies).

October is one of my favorite months in Timothy James Beck history, because (1) by this month in 1997, we’d transitioned from strangers into a group of four friends in the chatroom where we met; (2) our first novel, It Had to Be You, was released on October 1, 2001; (3) a large group of diverse friends and acquaintances came together in Manhattan to celebrate that release with a party that lasted into the wee hours of the morning, followed by breakfast with a big crowd of friends; and (4) this is the month that Tim moved from Manhattan to Houston and made writing the rest of those books in my right sidebar a lot less complicated.

Big friendships. Big dreams. Big happiness. Thank you.

Good things from the Midwest

This morning when I woke up way earlier than I wanted to, my sister had already baked biscuits. I’m not a good biscuit maker; in our house, Tom bakes the best biscuits. However, only my sister makes biscuits that can compare to my mother’s, so waking up to them is a wonderful event.

On these biscuits, I used almost the last of my Amana, Iowa, strawberry rhubarb preserves that Lisa sent me. In honor of that deliciousness, I had my coffee in a mug she brought with her in February:

The Midwest, via Lisa and Debby, has been very good to me today. I’m not sure any of that can compare, however, to what has to be my all-time favorite text message that I received while driving through West U last night:

From: Timothy
Rex’s ass exploded.
8:04 pm 3/19/08

Bet nobody else got one of those.


I just heard the painter in my kitchen knock an entire shelf of coffee cups to the floor with a resounding cacophony of breaking glass. It’ll be interesting to find out what lived and what died of the cups I’ve featured on LiveJournal.

And considering the international news today, it doesn’t really matter a lot to me right now. Mostly I feel for the painter, who probably fears my wrath and has no idea that none is forthcoming.

Button Sunday Plus

I called Tim earlier to see what’s going on. They took him for more x-rays at two a.m., but he hasn’t seen a doctor today to know what that means. It would be great if the chest tube could come out today, because if all goes well after that happens, maybe he could come home as early as tomorrow. I’m not getting my hopes up again though.

more miscellaneous stuff here

David Puterbaugh tried to turn my unborn children into mutant rats

This morning I was going to have my coffee in this stunning mug that David Puterbaugh got for me when he was in Boston. He carefully wrapped it and brought it all the way to New Orleans to hand-deliver it to me. (It was one of two mugs he gave me, one of which I featured in an earlier post.)

And then…
see and read more

Tuesday With Becky

Oh, the exciting life of a writer. It just never ends. After I woke up Tuesday, I had coffee in this cup:

That’s a cup that the fabulous davidpnyc brought all the way from London–with a side trip to NYC–to New Orleans to give to me. How cool is that? Do you know, by the way, how I know David in the first place?
read more about David, smelt fish, and my day here