Win a lottery/Meet Cody Ellerd

While driving through Iowa, I received a phone call from a reporter from Seattle who was doing an advance piece on my Mercer Island Books gig. This reporter was intrigued by the tour and wanted to follow me on a couple of stops to put together a second piece, this time something for NPR. I thought for a moment. Publicity, obviously, is a good thing for a book. But sharing my car, my friends, my life with a stranger for three days?

Well, when in doubt, say yes, that's my philosophy and it paid off this time. What were the chances of this random reporter being fun, adventurous, well-read, and a wonderful navigator? About the same odds as winning the lottery, I figure, and I certainly did win some kind of cosmic lottery by having Cody Ellerd drop into my life for three days. This jack-and-coke drinker got along with Tom, Quinn and Will, a winning trifecta of my friends; she had no qualms about sleeping on floors; she wasn't bothered that most of our interviewing took place while intoxicated between 3 and 4 in the morning; and even a bad pork taco couldn't take her down (though there was some very operatic vomiting).

I should note that this fine taco truck wasn't the one that made Cody sick; she wanted to climb back on the taco horse the day after so we stopped here.