I'm sitting in the airport at JFK on day 7 of a trip for my book tour of Stitched, which was released two weeks ago, today. Half the reason I'm doing any of this is to give Skylar the opportunity to be a hot single mom who's just trying to have it all.

I've Facetimed him and West multiple times every day to make sure West hasn't dared to grow or progress in any way without me being there. He had the audacity to learn new words and become a full grown adult with a 401k and a shopping addiction in a matter of one week. I'm going to have him cryogenically frozen inside of Walt Disney's corps the next time I travel.

Because we are living in Modern Timez, multiple apps that have been downloaded onto my phone against my will periodically alerted me to concerning home updates, like a Ring camera notification last Friday that presented me with a video of Skylar letting a strange man through the front door seconds after this man rang the bell.

I made a note later to inquire whether this was an affair, and to scold Skylar if it was. Not because of infidelity or anything, although infidelity certainly wouldn't have been ideal. But mostly because the way this man was dressed it was obvious he was straight and I thought I taught Skylar better than that.

When I remembered to ask him that night, he responded, "man not worth an affair? Oooooh. That guy? He was the emergency couch cleaner."

After I questioned why we would need such a character in our lives, he started on a monologue that involved vomit, dogs, our toddler, mac and cheese, and, curiously, my mother in law, before I realized I actually don't need to know everything and I changed the subject.

I spent the first half of the trip in NYC and parts of Connecticut where the humidity took my hair and teased it to Jesus so hard I'm now a televangelist with a private jet and dirt on half the IRS.

A few quilt shops hosted me for Stitched events, where I have learned the best way to get incredibly talented crafters to make things for you is to write a 300-page book about them. I've received quilted shoes (yes, that's a thing), hand bags, paintings, and an ornate blanket inspired by the cover of Stitched, with the colors matched to perfection. I will be buried in this quilt, alongside my blue Snuggie and a Dutasteride prescription because being dead is no excuse not to have great hair.

On Sunday I flew to Buffalo New York where I was issued the world's shittiest rental EV and sent off an hour east to a hotel that's actual address was Middle Of Nowhere. No kidding. If you put a letter in the mail with those words written on the envelope, they'll deliver it to that address and have a tumbleweed sign for it.

The hotel was an old opera house that was so haunted Whoopi helps you make pottery as a part of the check in process. There wasn't even anyone in the building when I arrived. I swear to Casper this is true. I was provided a code to get into this hotel, where my key and a simple note were waiting for me inside.

This was a three-story building with a critical mass of rooms and a full theater on the top floor so creepy I pretended to be religious for 48 hours just in case I needed a favor from God to get me out of there.

I was THE ONLY person in the entire building that night. No staff. No other guests. It was just me. In this relatively large, absolutely haunted, hotel.

I Risky Businessed the first half of the night in my underwear and then Home Aloned the second half. The staff will definitely be murdered by my booby traps after watching the risqué security footage. My apologies to them for both parts of that.

I spoke at a handful of library and book store events over the next two days, in between calling Skylar to blame him personally for technology he didn't invent and demanding that he help me figure out how to charge my EV that would not charge no matter how much leg and cleavage I showed it.

I made it back to the Buffalo airport this morning with a range of 12 miles to spare, and now I'm halfway home, to my toddler who grew up so much while I was gone he is now my age, and a husband who sexy single mommed his way with such grace he has fully convinced me we CAN have it all.

I'm so unbelievably grateful that I am getting to have this experience. When I landed in JFK last Wednesday, I got a call from my agents, telling me to check my email. I opened it with them on the phone, finding a link from them directing me to the New York Times bestseller list, where Stitched debuted at number 5.

Number 5 on The New York Times bestseller list. I still can't really believe it.

It's genuinely the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. Besides this one time I was running through an airport and I tossed an empty water bottle five feet and directly into a narrow-rimmed garbage can and strangers actually cheered like I was Michael Jordan.

This book about a community built around a craft has already been lifechanging for me, and although I'm exhausted by my calendar for the next few months, I also feel exceptionally lucky, and thankful to so many of you for supporting me in this for so long.

Onto the next event (PS, you can find my current planned public events in the Stitched Events tab at the top of this incredible website).

Happy quilting, or whatever it is you love to do.

Find Stitched on Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Libro, Audible, or ideally, your favorite local bookstore.

~It Just Gets Stranger