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Love Note - 06/26/2018

Happy Monday, Friends!!! Oh wait, it’s Tuesday... Same thing.

 This past weekend, I drove nine hours to Cleveland and met up with some of you! I had so much fun, and I love attending book signings now that my anxiety has subsided a touch. A few years ago, when I started getting invites to sign at some of these events, someone was always walking by and telling me to smile because I must have had RBF (Resting Bitch Face), A.K.A, I felt like the social interaction was going to make me sick because lets face it, I sit behind a screen all day and forgot how to people. 

Fast forward a few years (do those words still that tape recorders are gone?) and I don’t feel sick when there are a ton of people around. It turns out, I’m so totally in my element, surrounded by like-minded people that it’s the most thrilling times of the year to be at these events. Bookish people and bookish things are a different breed, in the best way and it just feels right.

Anyway, I got to see some friends this weekend and made some new ones, which is always the best part. There were also a few highlights I’d love to share with you because I almost peed myself about a dozen times over the course of two days. Seriously...whoa. 

Friday night, we happened upon a comfy couch across from the bathrooms in the hotel. An abstract painting hung before us in between the two bathroom doors. I have to highlight the word abstract because you know ... to each their own, but we all saw lady bits (pic below for your viewing pleasure). Since we were sure that this painting was definitely supposed to be what we saw, it was unfortunate for each and every drunk person who fell out of the bathrooms that night. We basically had to witness what looked like birth after birth. In fact, it was so much fun to watch the first night, we repeated our viewing hours the next evening too. That next night, though, oh man...there was a massive wedding party, a biker group, romance authors, and others. To sum it up, it was just an interesting version of the Vagina Monologues.

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Saturday, the signing was lovely, and about an hour before the doors were going to close, the fire alarm went off. Of course, I didn’t move because I’ve been in college dorms and know the “real” rules of a fire drill. Oops. We were told to evacuate and had to pile into the stairwell. I might have gotten a little nervous while crammed into the small space for ten minutes, but I felt better when we got outside and the firetrucks pulled up. I still don’t know what happened exactly, but the fireman stepped out of there trucks and they were like straight out of the Magic Men show. It was odd. I know the stereotype but they all fit the bill. So, there we were ... a ton of romance authors and Magic Men firefighters. I’ll let you imagine the rest. Needless to say, that’s why I never found out why we were evacuated.


The BEST part of the weekend though ... it was the first time I got to tell someone “I’m sorry, I only sign books and paper goods.” He had nothing to sign, and I was quite scared as to what would happen if I agreed. It was that moment when I felt like a real author. 😂

I could go on, but in short, the weekend was crazy crazy and even though it took us twelve hours to get home and I still need to unpack and nap, I want a do-over! 

What else... hmm. So, school vacation has started. Um...that’s been super fun. Transitional time from school to home is always interesting when I can’t seem to keep batteries charged for all the technology babysitters. I must get my routine back for that (#momoftheyear). 

I was finishing up Man Buns today, and it’s super hard being all romantic and funny when my kids are rolling around, wrestling, knocking into my desk chair, and needing five gazillion snacks every five minutes. The question of the day, candy considered a snack? So, I’ve been saying “no” for like nine years now and my kids either don’t understand the word “no,” or they’re confused as to why I say candy isn’t a snack. Why in June Clever’s name would I give them MORE sugar to continue using my house as a race track? No...jelly beans are not fruit because they taste like fruit. They’re also not jelly, or beans. Like, why do I have to have this conversation? 

I’m going to end my spiel here because I’m sitting in a hot car with my ipad while my five-year-old sleeps away my nine year old’s baseball game. I should be napping too...isn’t that the rule still?


Until next time, hugs!!! 00 

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