Calm, cool, and collected? Hah!

I'm occupying my mind with different tasks today so I won't dwell on this weekend. Even though I'm extremely excited, I can't help but be afraid that no one will want to buy the book. I've really worn myself out over this book signing, and I have to admit I would be devasted if that's what happened.

One thing that comforts me is knowing that I won't be walking into that book signing alone. Of course John and the boys will be there for a VERY short while, but not everyone will be visible. The spirit of my father will be sitting there beside me, along with all my other family members who have passed on before me.

I've been on an emotional rollercoaster this week. I am incredibly touched that my hometown paper ran an article on me. I called the editor to thank her. She informed me, very warmly, that she enjoyed doing it. After I hung up with her, I realized that she had known me all my life. Another high was when all my old teachers that I emailed got back in touch with me and told me that they were proud of me; that still brings tears to my eyes.

I can't believe I didn't see all the compassion of my hometown folks when I lived there as a child. I was too busy planning on how to get the heck out of there and head for the "big city." San Marcos may have all the glamour, but it lacks the compassion in most cases. It does have its' bizaare and sweet moments though.

I called Kinko's copying to get a price on a poster for the signing. I was embarressed when the employee asked me for the dimensions; I had no clue. "Umm. . .I guess big enough to fit on the front of a table."

"Madam, what will you be using the table for? What kind of event?"

"Just a regular event."

"People display signs different ways according to the events they have. Now what is the event?"

"A book signing," I blurted. "I'm one of. . ."

"A book signing! Then that must mean you're a published writer!" I listened in shocked amusement as he SANG me a congratulations song! I had no idea who this fellow was, but I was flattered.

"You don't understand," I interjected before he got to the second verse. "I'm only one of 101." I hastily told him about Chicken Soup.

"But that doesn't matter to me. You're still published." That crazy guy almost moved me to tears. Even though the poster would be WAY too expensive there, by the end of the conversation I had made a new friend.

Speaking of friends, thanks again to all of you who have offered praise and support through all of this; it means a lot to me