The book signing did not disappoint. Quite the reverse, in fact. It uplifted. It enchanted. It endrunkened. I don't think anyone was prepared for the breadth of the turnout; I know the publisher wasn't, because the books sold out in the first hour. Lines of "bloupies" (you can see my picture if you scroll down) stretched out the door; most were there to see the First Couple, but a good number saw me off to the side and said very nice things about my writing and my boys. So I left the event very happy, and with a new appreciation for the life of a Pip.
It is also important not to underestimate the power of the Dooce, who got up at way-butt-early o'clock on Utah time, withstood six minutes of willful ignorance, and then chatted with, posed with, hugged, and/or knitted sweaters for everyone who came out and waited so patiently, until the lot of us had to clear out of the bar. She was resplendent and indefatigable from start to finish, and I'm not just saying that because without her I would have spent the night getting grass stains out of Robert's baseball uniform.
As special and strange as the night was, the most surreal moment came just as were leaving for Cringe. I had ducked out of the klieg lights and into the bathroom. It was my first respite from the mayhem, so I did what any normal person would do -- I started twittering. (It was an excellent display of multi-tasking, if I say so myself.) And right after I had finished twittering in the bathroom, Bill brandished his cell phone and said, "Dude, did you just twitter in the bathroom?"
Sometimes the immediacy of social networking can take the wind right out of you.
