Another book signing

Nobody wanted a book signed. We sat at a tiny table sucking on complimentary iced lattes and making fun of the Nook salesman until he came over to show us his color touchscreen. We managed to make him turn red and mutter something like "family establishment" when suddenly the doors swung open and a crowd of firemen strolled in, like a herd of unicorns, and our straws dropped from our mouths. Z said, "Hey, I'm standing right here," from somewhere far away. His New Zealand accent is adorable. 

 

(Sorry, Z. But this godawful picture is waaaay more flattering than the ones Mike took of T-dubya and me. Although at least I wasn't holding my junk in any of those.)

We made vague non-plans to get together at the fondue restaurant some time, the boys were rounded up, and the signing was done. We said goodbye and headed on to the brewery down the road.

After being introduced as, "my... ex-wife... girlfriend... something" to the brewer, I stomped off and tipped back a row of mini samples in the tasting room while the man patted bags of grain for an hour. A retired Seattleite winked at me over his wife's shoulder, Leif exchanged rocks from the parking lot with a tot who's mom was trying to procure a keg for his 2nd birthday, and Gavin organized his gaming cards, then fell off the bar stool and dumped them all over the floor. We left with a crate of beer ingredients and some overpriced 10oz. sampler glasses. The drive back to town was scenic.

That's what she said

And that concludes our publicity tour.