I have to catch a Super Shuttle thing to Cincinnati at 8:10am. That would be 11am to my friends at home. (eta: I have to actually catch, and really have already caught, a Super Shuttle thing to LAX where I will catch a large metal container that allegedly flies to Cincinnati. The Super Shuttle, while a great concept, cannot get me to Cincinnati in time for my connection to Bradley....)
Yes, I took the knitting. And a good thing, too. I needed the backpack, to fill with yummy BEA swag (I love my job). I got tote bags galore (I have a thing for tote bags) and some awesome books. I did not score Mr. Wonderful's signed Ray Bradbury book. Mr. Bradbury was not able to attend. A lot of people seemed angry about this, which made me sad for humanity. The man is 87 and in a wheelchair for crying out loud. Cut him some slack.
My signing went very well. All of the books went away, which is always a good thing. I've said it before, sometimes you just sit there knowing no one is coming...and so when they do it's a huge relief. I even had a pre-signing line for my lane! Admittedly it was not as long as that of my next door neighbor, but she cheats, being famous.Yes, she looks exactly like that in person. Toned. Natural. Black shirt, white pants. If this is aging gracefully, sign me up. Well, I'd need a b*reast reduction. And some lipo. And abdominoplasty. Oh, and a chin implant. And a personal trainer. Other than (all of) that, I could totally age gracefully. I've got the genes for it. Oh, I also need a wardrobe. Perhaps this dude could set me up? Katy, Traci, I have to say, it was incredibly tempting not to run up to him and say "Listen, my friends think I dress like a chicken farmer and all my clothes come from the salvation army or the dollar store. They really would like it if you could, say, style me? And good luck with that. Have a blast trying to dress the large busted, short waisted, wide-hipped pygmy." But I didn't. And you realize that if I ever were on that show me and that credit card would be at Macy's buying a certain Marc Jacobs bag I cannot get out of my head. Amy will remember.
But about my signing. OK, so there's a line and people coming consistently down it. It would thin and more would appear. Most were not knitters, and just wanted a signed copy of whatever I was hawking, which is totally cool. Most of them knew a knitter, and many asked me to sign it for their friend so and so. In one instance it was a husband in line for his wife, wise man. He said "I get books, she gets yarn." Wiser man. Deb from Harper Collins stopped by and got a book signed, and sent a few people my way (Thanks Deb! I hope you get a skein of that yarn. You deserve it!!) And I had a Mysterious Surprise Visit from a Very Famous Knitter. (hint: she stalks Shatner AND GOT HIS BOOK, dammit. AND scored a shot of Nimoy. But I sat next to Jamie Lee Curtis Who Makes Me Feel So Very Chicken Farmer, and got an unsigned Bradbury.) OK, ok, now that you're all guessing madly, right? Who doesn't get this on the first guess?
Now, coolest moment of the entire weekend? Coolest thing ever? Three books left on the table, and Jamie Lee, busy signing, looks over and says "Hey, can I get a couple of those?" I s^it you not. Seriously. "Can I get a couple of those"??? Uh. Uh...what the hell do I say to Jamie Lee Curtis?? A celebrity is asking me for 2 copies of my book, personalized for friends. And what do I say? Do I graciously hand over two books, maybe bowing and scraping a bit, awed by her very presence into quiet submission? Does humility enter my brain? Of course not. Only selfishness. "Hey, I have grandchildren. We can trade, 2 for 2", I say, grinning. "OF COURSE!" she says, and very generously signs me two copies of Is There Really a Human Race?, one for April and one for Aidan. I am the coolest book-scoring grandma around. On the shuttle back to the hotel the Very Famous Knitter (who, by the way, is not able to take more than ten steps at BEA without being recognized) pointed out that I am in a unique position to make similar scores at future BEA's. She suggested that I begin a box for each of the kids, kept at Omie's house, with books I get for them from events. Sometimes when they visit we will sit down and take out the special books, and look at them and read them. And when they are old enough, and ready, I can hand the books over and hope that they are inspired by my reverence for them to develop a bit of their own. Or they can sell them on eBay and fund college or buy a car. One or the other. Mr. Wonderful is probably cringing at the idea of two more boxes of books somewhere in the house. Just deal, honey. It's just boxes, and I am, as I often need to remind you, a grandmother.
Jamie Lee had a visitor too...Dr. Ruth. I was signing and could not get my camera, and I am pretty sure Amy was about to break either my arm or my camera, so I restrained myself.
I stalked Shatner too.
But this is as close as I got. The line was endless and the books were gone by the time I returned from the signing area to booth 1525.
But there's always next year...
More on my mad adventures at BEA after touch-down. For now, I need to shower, dress, and grab some kind of sustenance against the day. Oh darn. I just remembered. In order to get home, I have to fly again. Eh. May as well. I miss my dog.