Last night, I wanted to go to the local signing for this book, but hubbie and I got out of the gym too late and I didn't have time to change. Assuming that the reading was already underway upstairs, I ran into the store in my sweat-soaked Red Sox t-shirt and spandex tights, thinking I could buy a copy without anyone but the clerk seeing (or smelling) that I was there.
Not only was the author still standing by her books, surrounded by a flock of adoring fans, she offered to sign one for me as I slunk through the crowd. "What's your name?" she asked sweetly.
"Brenda" I replied.
(okay, that's not really what I said. But I wish it was. When will I learn?)