I’ve been told if you sell ONE book at a signing, that is was a good one. This one wasn’t as great as the first one, however, I did sell to strangers. Which is a good thing. At least I think so. I had to talk myself and the book up and that was hard. I’d rather have it sell itself, ya know? heh. My daughter took these pictures. No, it isn’t your imagination about the picture being kinda crooked.

As you can see I was right out in front of the store. I felt like a fish in an aquarium. lmao

I had a black blazer on with this and it felt like the store had a heater right on me. I’m flushed and hoping my deodorant is holding up–compounded by the red glare of the table cloth–maybe that’s why people were afraid to approach me–LOL

How was your weekend?

Tomorrow, I’m doing another two hour book signing of THE LAST THING I EXPECTED. I’m nervous and anxious about it–even though this is my ’sophmore’ signing. I’m also going to make sure that my guy does not have his hand over the lens like he did so that we can have a decent picture of me sitting/standing there at my tiny table. The first signing he put his hand up so what would’ve been a good picture turned into a very dark shadow of me and a blurry picture of his hand. :roll: I love him despite it. :wink:

Here are the details:
When: Saturday, October 7th
Time: 1-3 pm
Where:Greensburg - Westmoreland Mall ^*
Borders Express
250 Westmoreland Mall
Greensburg, PA 15601
Phone:724.837.8279

I know this is  far away for most of you. But someone from this area may be out there lurking. Oh, and if the detour isn’t fixed, what fun this will be.

Is it any wonder why I write comedies? If this current story had room for an elderly couple much like my grandparents, man would there be some laughs.

My grandma called me this morning to tell me what she heard at the complex they live in. Now, she hates gossip, but is the Queen of it. She is going to a PCP ( primary care physician ) and she doesn’t like him because she can’t understand him. He’s from Venezula or something and she’s from Scotland, so the feeling is probably mutual. She always has a complaint for this doctor. Always. Her newest gripe, someone told her that this Dr. rubbed his penis up against their relative’s– twice removed–arm. She wasn’t happy when I said, “well, maybe he felt they needed some action.” I asked if they turned him in and she said no. So, I’ve been telling her that there is another doctor who specializes in Senior Citizens and the Dr is a female. I gave her the number this morning. Now, around here, you have to dial the area code first. No matter if I’m calling my neighbor. She’s arguing with me about the prefix. She’s telling me it’s 555 (using this generally ) and I say no. It’s 556. So, after three minutes of this, I tell her take it exactly as I’m telling you. 123-556-0700. I tell her this number three times and she repeats it each time, but still manages to foul it up. The fourth time, she finally gets it. She hangs up and life is good.

Fast forward to an hour later. She calls to tell me that the Dr. isn’t in their provider book. Well, she is, but she is listed as an orthopedic dr. She puts my pap on the phone. He says, spell the name. Meals. He said, “Yeah, Merls”.
“No. Meals. As in you eat three meals a day.”
“That’s what I said, Mears.”
“Noooo. M-e-a-l-s.”
“Mears, I don’t see any Mears.”
At this point, I light a cigarette and take a deep nicotine breath. Oh yes, it is going to be so easy to quit this, I think. “Pap, listen to me. Going to spell this one more time.”
“Okay.”
“M. E. A. L as in LION. S.”
“Ohhhhh! Meals as in food.”
I pump my fist into the air. “YES!”
“I didn’t see that name in my book.”
“Do this. Call the number I gave to grandma.”
“Okay. Love you.”

My mom calls and I’m telling her and she’s laughing as I swear in frustration. My call waiting beeps. It’s my grandma. I swear, tell my mom to hold on and I switch over.
“Yeah?”
“You gave me the wrong number.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m putting your “dad” on the phone.”
“Okay.”
“Hi pap, what number do you have?”
“You tell me the number.”
“123-556-0700.”
“Sunuvabeetch! She has it as 6700! Dammit, she fecks me up all the time! Let me try this again.” Click.

Yes, he dropped the actual F-bomb. They haven’t called back yet. They either got through or they killed each other. The coroner hasn’t called either.

So, how is YOUR day?