Why do internet-famous people only come here during the summer? Two summers ago we met Jen from CakeWrecks, and last year we met Dancing Matt. This week we got to meet The Bloggess, and check another one off our list. (We’re almost done meeting the Internet now, right?)
So the kids and I picked up my aunt and we met Summer and Katie at the bookstore. We left earlier than probably necessary because I am scared of north county and also traffic in north county. Once on the road I realized I hadn’t triple-checked to make sure I knew where I was going so there was a possibility of adventure. A possibility which did not pan out because, as it turned out, I did know where I was going. (I know. Weird, right?)
So we wound up in the front row and had actual chairs and everything. We chatted and ate leftover camping chocolate (leftover. chocolate. I know). At some point a bunch of people took a group picture of themselves with metal chickens. This is normal stuff for Bloggess fans (we call ourselves Lawsbians). As the time drew near, the guy in charge of setting this whole thing up made some announcements including one that was all, “Oh and if you brought children, you should be warned that there might be some material unsuitable for innocent ears.” At which point I was all, “DUDE. Who are these kids and why are they calling me mommy? I know them not!” And also? We were all sitting in the children’s section. When Jenny got there she loved that bit.
So she read a chapter all about laxatives and possible rapists passing her notes under her bathroom door. And Margie may or may not be scarred for life. She told me later, “I didn’t understand any of it. It was just weird.” Elliott, on the other hand (the child I was positive I could count on not paying attention because he was drawn into his Angry Birds game), laughed heartily every time she said the word “bathroom”. Apparently, when bathrooms are involved, he can multi-task extremely well.
And now let me back up about 25 years for a minute. There was a night when I was a kid when my grandma became obsessed with the idea that I needed to pick a vase to inherit. As a nine-year-old, vases weren’t really my thing, so I kind of didn’t care, but she wouldn’t let it go. I remember being a little bit freaked out, actually, by her incessant vase-pushing. Looking back, I realize she was probably a little drunk and honestly that explains a lot. Who else pushes vases on nine-year-olds? She eventually picked one for me and stuck my name to it with tape so that when she died, everyone would know to make sure I got it. Years later, after she passed, I asked my family if they’d found my vase. Not necessarily because I wanted my damn inheritance, actually. It was mainly to fact-check myself. But no one knew anything about it, so I assumed it was some weird childhood hallucination.
Until last summer. When I found it sitting in my mom’s house. Now, one could assume she simply hadn’t noticed the tape on the bottom of the vase. Except that I found numerous references to the whole story in her various angry letters to me that she’d written on her computer and/or the backs of paper plates. Luckily I’m barely even scarred by any of that. In fact, I keep the vase in my living room where I think of drunk, vase-obsessed grandmas, and angry paper-plate-letters and chuckle about it to myself. Fucked-up families are totally the funniest ones.
Anyway. Back to 2012. I’d already bought Jenny’s book on my Nook, but since you can’t really get that signed (or I guess I could, but it might be very confusing while I’m reading Anansi Boys), I decided to buy my aunt a copy of the book. And I was going to tell her that she better make sure I get it when she dies (cause, you know, family tradition) when I had a better idea. I could have Jenny write it in there. Jenny thought it was brilliant. As I knew she would. THIS is why we need to be BFFs.
Summer and Katie weren’t going to participate in the book signing portion of the evening so they headed out after the reading was done. I kicked myself for that later, realizing that they should have at least stayed to get a picture with her. Oh well. She promises to write another book. So next time. My aunt, missing my mom, was drawn to the fact that Jenny’s sister, Lisa, was there with her, so she made her hop in the picture with us as well.
It was a great evening. Laughter, scarring my kids for life publicly, chocolate, and, of course, meeting the Internet.