Then, a marvelous thing happened. The book tour got extended. And a stop in the ATL was added. On a... Wednesday night? That's a school night. Meh. Wednesday night!
The plan was simple, really. Drive to the south side of Atlanta after work. Meet up with Tamara (finally), drive together up to Buckhead, saunter casually up to the Bloggess, and say, "Hey. I made you these cupcakes." Then, I would act all nonchalant as she swoons in awestruck delight at my Bloggess-themed cakery. I mean, what could go wrong?
The plan worked perfectly. Kinda.
I made the cupcake toppers on Monday night. On Tuesday night, I baked some devil's food cupcakes and some peanut butter icing. I put them all together, put them in a box, and took them to work with me... because they would melt in the car.
|If you don't know what these things are, you need to read the Bloggess's blog. Except the chocolate chip ones. Those are pretty self-explanatory. And what happens when I run out of steam and can't pull off a lady garden cupcake topper.|
After work, I hit the open road and went to meet Tamara. This part of the plan would have gone much more smoothly had I actually given her the correct city in which to meet. Yeah. I got the city wrong. BUT, despite my epic geography fail, we met up and headed to the bookstore.
We weren't late. But there was NOWHERE to sit. Or stand. It was awesome.
We hung out behind the podium with some other fans. I'd read a tweet that said somebody Kathryn somebody was going to do the introduction and I was all, "Whatever, I don't know what that is."
Ummm... yes, I do.
Kathryn Stockett, who wrote The Help, did the introduction. Why yes, I was starstruck.
After the intro, the main event unfolded. The Bloggess herself stepped up to the microphone and did a charming and endearing reading from her book. She read the part about the psychopath at the bathroom door. (See? Now you're all intrigued and itchin' to read the book.)
|I was RIGHT NEAR her... just on the wrong side.|
After the reading, the line was long to meet the Bloggess and get your book signed. Luckily, I already had a signed copy of the book because my better half got me a copy for Mother's Day. Thus, the line was long for me to get a spatula signed. Don't judge me.
We waited in line for-stinkin'-ever which you would think would have been fine because we were in a book store and there was plenty of reading material for entertainment. You would think. Unfortunately, our waiting area was situated in the aisle that featured bibles and travel books. That's less entertaining. Plus, I was holding a box of a dozen cupcakes while we waited... both hours...
Eventually though, the line moved and we made our way through the children's lit area (ironic much) where the reading and signing was happening. Finally finally finally, it was time for me and Tamara to meet the Bloggess.
|Awww... aren't we cute? Wake up, Copernicus!|
I wish I could say I was sauntering and confident and the coolest person that she'd met all night. But no. I got jittery and nervous and somehow ended up in timid mode with a, "Ummm... I made you this..." when I put the box on the table. Then this conversation happened:
Bloggess: "Is this a cake?"
Me: "Yes... well, it's cupcakes."
Bloggess: "Is it really or is it something weird?"
Bloggess: "Is it something dead?"
Me: "I'll open it."
Bloggess (leaning away just in case it really was something dead or monkey pox or something): "OK".
I opened the box and she looked at the cupcakes. And, just like my most secret of hopes, she seemed to like them. She looked at them all and knew what they were (duh, it's her blog that inspired them). And I apologized for sugar Copernicus (Sugarnicus) falling over and denting his icing, but the real Copernicus was there and didn't seem to mind.
But then, something cool happened. Nay... epic.
The Bloggess, in front of God and everybody, pulled out her phone and tweeted a picture of my cupcakes... with her Tardis phone.
|and I have pictures to prove it!|
And she said, "Are you a baker?" and I was all, "I'm thinking about opening a bakery one day," and she was all, "You should open a bakery!" and I was all, "Write that on my spatula!" and she did. Then I made a really inappropriate joke about the Sharpie drying on the spatula and we all laughed and went on our merry way.
Wanna see the spatula? Maybe I'll hang it on the wall of my bakery one day.