Harry, who features in the chapters, “A Moose-hunting Escapade, Bravery and Intensive Care” sent me his Thai address with an added a cautionary note. “The Thai postal system, like its US counterpart, is fairly dependable. Parcels usually arrive anywhere between 30 days and 30 months after being sent.” Twenty days after mailing, I wondered when or if his copies of the book would actually arrive.
 
Meanwhile Misty, my Dillingham photographer who took the wonderful cover pic wrote excitedly to say her copy of the book had arrived in Dillingham, Alaska.  I wrote and told Harry, “Well Harry, the books have reached Dillingham, Alaska.”
 
My brother in Melbourne wrote, “Book arrived and looks fantastic. You are becoming legendary!”

Yesterday I received a message from Nassiruaq a friend in Chevak, Alaska, “Hi Emma, just received the book you sent, can't wait to read it!”
 
My sister in Christchurch emailed me the same day, “I checked the letterbox about 2 and have just checked again and the book is here - Yay!!”
 
Harry in Thailand just emailed.  “The books arrived today!!! Thank you so much. Of course I went right to the hunting mishap. Great read! Now I can start at the beginning and enjoy it.”

Forget TV appearances I feel just so good to know that my Alaskan memoir has been greeted with such enthusiasm and joy, near and far!

People are receiving copies of Dancing on the Tundra all over the world, and that  definitely makes me feel like a ‘world-wide author’!

 We received some sad news this week. Robert, our best man and my second cousin died after a long battle with cancer. His passing has left us talking about him all week, sharing some of our special memories. 
 
 In January 2001 it was hard for Gary to try and find a best man to stand at his side, especially here in his new country of NZ.  All the people he dearly wanted to come lived in the northern hemisphere where the depths of winter, difficulty in getting leave, the expense of traveling as well as fear of flying, were all valid reasons for friends and family to not be with him.
 
 Knowing the importance of my soon-to-be-husband’s support system on his big day - the sort of support that only another man friend could give, I came up with an idea.
‘How about Robert?’ I ventured one day. Robert lived in Wellington in the North Island where we'd spent some great time visiting him and his wife Lynne. Gary thought for a nanosecond.
‘Oh that’d be great!’ he agreed. ‘We get on really well. Do you think he’d do it?’
'Why don't you call and ask him.’
'He agreed!  Gary said excitedly after an immediate phone call, 'and Lynne was happy to be MC!'
'Great stuff!'  I replied, feeling pleased with my fiance's telephone skills and Robert and Lynne's kind hearts.

            ‘I don’t know what it was,’ Gary mused as he pulled his wedding suit out of the bag he has kept it in for the last 16 years, ‘but Robert and I had an instant rapport. We seemed to understand each other from the start.’
          ‘I know sweetheart,’ I agreed. ‘You two formed a close brotherhood from the moment you met. Remember when he whispered to you in the church that you had one last chance to make a dash for it?’ Gary smiled reminiscing.
            ‘Yeah, it was the perfect thing to say at the time. I was feeling too emotional when I saw you, and he broke the spell, made me chuckle and relax. He was always giving me good advice.’ Gary stopped and thought a moment.  ‘You know,’ he paused, ‘you know the last piece of advice he gave me last summer when he called in?’
             ‘No, what was that?’
             ‘Buy a Jeep Grand Cherokee,’ he advised me.  ‘Emma will love it and you can do everything you want in it.’
I stopped and stared at Gary. 
            ‘You never told me that before.’
            ‘Well I’ve just remembered it,' my husband answered before adding. ‘Honestly he did!’

I could imagine Robert’s sparkling eyes as Gary grinned at me. Those two were thick as thieves.

Arriving at the corner shop this week, I saw two women sitting outside at a small table, selling raffle tickets for the Nelson Hospice. One called out to me.
        “I’m reading your book!” she exclaimed. “Loving it, enjoying it as much as the first two!”
       “Oh!” I replied startled that my book was being discussed out loud in such a public place, and pleased I’d remembered to put lipstick on. “What part are you up to?”
I approached the table to buy a book of tickets, the least I could do. Shouldn’t there be a lull, I thought, like months passing before any opinions about this ‘just released book’ were bandied about. The woman looked momentarily flustered.
       “Um, oh…," she said, darting a look past me at Kotzman who was making a beeline for the car.  "I’ve just finished the Canadian road trip.”She looked suitably proud as she managed to pull the correct chapter from inside her distracted mind. 
 As I signed for the tickets, I realised how much the airing of our lives by memoir, affected not only me, but Kotzman also.

​The following day I admonished my husband, as he was about to leave the house and go get some petrol for the lawn mower.
        “Don’t go out wearing those shorts”, I called as the front door was about to close behind him.
        “Why?” he asked, turning and looking puzzled.
        “Because someone might recognise you.”
         “What does it matter honey?” he asked.

 Actually I wasn't sure.  It left me something to think about.

Well finally… we have lift off! The date of consequence for the last 6 months, the day in the far distant future suggested by my publicist back in October last year, the day that has haunted my thoughts and controlled my actions, that day  “after the holidays and before Easter and Mothers Day, March 1st, 2017”,  that day has now come… and thankfully gone!
 
By the beginning of last week, the week that contained the dreaded 1st March, I appeared to be the only person completely unexcited by this upcoming momentous launch. “Oh how EXCITING!” people exclaimed.
Exciting? I thought.  Exciting!  No Way!  What if no one turns up? I’ve never even been to Fairfield House, the place suggested by the bookstore. I’m not sure many of the people who came to my local launch at the Motueka Library for Nesting on the Nushagak, would even bother to make that trek into the centre of Nelson city on a hot mid week night at 5:30 pm. They would have to fight against traffic, tiredness and the prospect of parting with money, and not even able to have a glass of wine if they were driving.

But come they did… and by the time yours truly was ready to face the fans (figuratively and literally)… the room was full, food and drinks served, including non alcoholic punch, and the night proved a great success. Whew! I was reminded of a quote from a nonagenarian who said the one piece of advice she would give others to enjoy life was (ladies), “Brush your hair, put on your lipstick and GO!”
 
So now what? Well heaps to do as usual. I have had orders, emails and talk requests, so before the dust settles I want to first mail out some books to my special Yup’ik and Cup’ik friends. 
Cecilia, the skilled elder from Chevak, made me those mukluks that were displayed in the shop window. Her daughter who had seen the pic on the internet commented, “Hmm, I saw that and wondered if my mom made those… Hahaha, she'll surely be pleased to see this! ” Isn’t it a small world?