I can hardly believe that book is finally coming out now — in less than a week!

You’re all invited to join me at one these celebratory events. Expect to find me standing in the bookstore/library with my eyes dilated, muttering to myself, “I have a BOOK.”

If you were to ask me the one thing I hate about living in Omaha …

If I didn’t say the heat or the humidity, or the politics, or the scarcity of public transportation, I’d think I’d say the grass.

Or rather, the lawns.

I don’t understand lawns. As a concept.

The idea of covering every scrap of ground with the most innocuous, boring plant possible — and then obsessing over its length and consistency.

The fact that people spend their free time doing this. The fact that they spend even more free time talking about it. The fact that chemicals are involved.

The Post and Nickel didn’t even smell like Omaha.

It smelled woodsy. Like antiques and new leather. And expensive men’s cologne.

“Like new clothes …” rhapsodized Rob Busson.

It’s been a few years since Rob was a regular Post and Nickel shopper — since we went to high school together in the early ’90s. But news that the store’s last Omaha location at 132nd Street and West Center Road was closing still struck him as sad.

Me, too.

If anything, I get more baby crazy as they grow up. I look at my kids and see how big they are, how fast they’re growing. My 3½ -year-old is still pretty cuddly. But holding him is more like holding a small ape or a border collie than a baby. And he’s totally lost that new-baby smell. (He kind of smells like a border collie, too.)

I’m pretty sure my 6-year-old couldn’t tell you what happens to Red Riding Hood. (Where she ends up is bad; how she gets out might be worse.)

Rumpelstiltskin, Thumbelina … If Disney hasn’t taken a crack at a fairy tale, it’s off his radar. I’ll bet he’s never even heard of Hansel and Gretel.

And yet, our house is full of these stories.

If you check out this blog page regularly, you might notice a few changes over the next couple of months …

First of all, I’m taking some time off to make the most of my book release. (Just in case this never happens again, I want to really savor it.) I’ll still be writing lots of columns and stories that will be posted here — just not quite as frequently through March and April.

I’ll also be shifting my focus a bit from now on. I’ll be writing more stories and profiles, and fewer blog extras, such as the TV recaps.

I’ll really miss writing the recaps and chatting with you all about the shows. So if you need to vent about Glee, you should totally look me up on Facebook. You know I’m always ready to talk about Chris Colfer.

And if you ever want me to write about something specific, shoot me an e-mail of give me a call.

rainbowrowell@gmail.com
402-444-1000

He lost me as soon as he started talking about “winning.”

When a grown man starts to obsess about winning, it seems like he’s lost track of what’s really important. Winning is for games. Not for solving problems like unemployment and health care …

Oh, wait, you knew I was talking about President Obama, right?

When Tim Halperin walked off the stage Thursday night, the “American Idol” machine was already at work, getting ready to send him home.
After months of auditions and performances and flying back and forth between Fort Worth and Los Angeles — Tim’s “Idol” adventure was over.
“Where are you flying to?” someone with the show asked him.
“Can I go to Omaha?” Tim asked. “I was like a little puppy dog. I wanted to come home.”
Omaha’s first “American Idol” finalist is back in town this week, spending some serious quality time with his …

When Meg Ryan’s cuteness and Tom Hanks’s likability are in the same room, they’re blinding. You have to watch them through a pinhole — which is probably why they spend most of this movie apart.

And even then — even though they fall in love with each other in separate rooms, sitting in front of computers — they’re still more more convincing than people who are actually in love in real life.

He’s singing “Streetcorner Symphony” by Rob Thomas. Oh, Tim … no!

Tim’s doing fine. He’s really comfortable on stage, you can tell. But there’s no singing in this song. Just a bunch of friendly talking. It remind me of a Mr. Roger’s song — you know how Mr. Rogers just pleasantly talks the melody without actually singing?

Tim can SING. Why isn’t he singing?