Lining Up

On a rainy day in April (weird in the SoCal) a visit to my fairy blogmother inspired me to start writing again.

Missing: one magic wand.

Despite the (relatively) cold weather, I decided to haul my two month old son off to a bookstore in downtown Pasadena to wait in a long line to meet a woman I've already met and get a book I had already bought signed (when she's already signed books for me).  Totally worth it.

The line was long and daunting and after about an hour it had moved about four feet.  Just as we were starting to revisit our decision expose a newborn to the elements for some sharpie signatures and a 90 second conversation with a perfect stranger (although in my heart we will always be besties), we noticed the bookstore manager (owner? don't know) walk along the line and release a group of people to the front of the line.  Intrigued, we listened as the people in front of us inquired if their twin girls (adorable) were young enough.  The managowner asked how old they were and the couple said they were seven months.  As she replied "No, we're not taking them that old yet" I jumped in and asked how young they needed to me.  She said "How young is he?" and when I said eight weeks, presto chango, we got bumped to the front of the line too.  Suddenly dragging my infant along didn't seem like such a bad idea.

The little guy also helped serve as a valuable conversation piece with Ree herself.  Last time we met I was just pure, unadulterated awkwardness.  I think I mentioned how we had a baby early in our marriage like Ree and Ladd, and however awkward that sounds, it was approximately 87% more awkward in person.  She was fun and said "oh right, I always say why beat around the bush about these things?" and we laughed but oh boy.  Awk. Ward.  This time we had a lovely chat about how after having perfectly normal deliveries with our first children, we both had boys who were five weeks early and scared us and spent time in the NICU.  That is a bonding experience, so the conversation flowed nicely.

Sammy thinks we all look related.

And the best part?  I won a bet with the hubs.  That almost never happens!

He was sure; nay, positive that Pioneer Woman and Marlboro Man had chickens.  Something about the opening credits of her cooking show.  Now, I had read this and was well aware that she did not have chickens, and so the bet was laid.  If I won: frozen banana date.  If he won: I don't remember.  Right before we walked away I asked her to help settle a bet with my husband.  The result?

Victory in our time!