So it's weird to do a book signing in your own town. On the eve of an overhyped storm meant to BLANKET THE NORTHEAST. The northeast may indeed be blanketed, but NYC this morning is lying under a tattered and frayed crochet shawl of snow 1mm thick that could hardly be called a blanket. CORRECTION: We're buried. I spoke too soon. Waaay toooooo sooooon, oh my blizzard.
It was at the Barnes & Noble on Fifth Avenue, which was the first B&N in the universe, built during the Depression. It's an odd combination of history (see above) at a glamorous address but with strange non-B&N vibe inside, like if the store had been transported to Warsaw. The good thing about a reading in your hometown is that your friends and family come. I was so besotted looking through old emails from my initial research phases of the book that I nearly forgot to get dressed to go to the reading and had to take a cab, trying very hard not to be that person in a cab who is letting out huge, stage sighs from the backseat every time we miss a light, muttering "go go go go go go" under my breath.
I was especially happy that many people from Workman, my publisher, came to the event (and bought books, which was beyond generous). I get a little bit freaked out when people from 70 different areas of my life are all in one room, which seems to happen to me a lot lately. You think that's what you want, for everyone to meet everyone and see who you've been talking about, but the reality is far more like a weird dream where you're in your house but it's not your house, it's the mall. You know?
Peter is in town, newly transplanted from California, so we went out to dinner with a group of very fun friends. An additional good thing about a reading in your hometown is you get to go out afterwards with your very fun friends. I tried to take pictures but the table was weird and I couldn't get everyone in. I like this one of Cusi, Peter & Peter because there's a stranger in the background who is the only one who's posing for the photo.
Next stop, Philadelphia. Go away, winter wind.
Oh PS, we even talked about this very phobia of mine last night at dinner but Peter is still insisting on drinking water out of coffee mug, which as we have established makes me more depressed than just about any...other inappropriate appropriation of a vessel. Anyway.