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Also known as … the saga of one Tuesday night.
I’d known about the Pioneer Woman book signing at Davis-Kidd, a local bookstore, pretty much since it went on her Road Map. But for some reason, I just didn’t think I would go. I’m on my own with Libbie, it’s just too hard, I’m not a book signing kind of girl really. Even though I am a HUGE fan of hers, I am not like a stalking kind of person who would go ga-ga over having a cookbook with her signature in it.
And then the Tuesday of the signing came. About 3:30 in the afternoon, I started to panic about it. Would I regret not going? Was I insane? What if I missed her singing Ethel Merman? I sent a few panicky e-mails to Mary, my sweet bloggy friend, who had seen PW in Kansas City. We even exchanged our very first phone call where she assured me yes, it was worth it, and PW would not care if Libbie was whiny and insane.
So make a long and sad story slightly shorter, I got drenched picking up Libbie from her babysitter’s house as it was absolutely pouring sheets of rain. I was (stupidly) wearing suede shoes and just ruined them. By the time I managed to get Libbie, the stroller, a now-defunct umbrella, the diaper bag, my purse, and myself into the door of Davis-Kidd, I was soaked to the bone and knew if I were going to make it a few hours I needed some dry clothes.
First on the agenda was getting the cookbook and ticket for the signing. I was in group 13, whatever that meant. Then I hopped over to Macy’s and bought a sweater and pants and to Dillard’s for my very first pair of Crocs (because no matter how comfortable they were, I couldn’t shell out $130 for these divine Josef Siebel shoes). And to prove myself as Worst Mother of the Year, I fed Libbie an Auntie Anne pretzel and headed back to the bookstore.
Where there were now officially a gazillion people.
Picture courtesy of Karen at Our Crazy Blessed Life
To be continued …