Voodoo Lady

I’ve always wanted a nickname.

Miss Fancy has written about our adventure. She should have a “don’t drink and read” warning on her site. The girl is funny. Spewing my beverage on my shirt after reading about her impressions of me as a Voodoo Lady is not. Okay, it is.

Read about it, read all about it.

Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

Love,

Voodoo

Ree Glee.

The PW Shrine

And to think, I almost didn’t go. An invitation to sushi with real-life friends had me reconsidering my plans to see The Pioneer Woman (Ree Drummond) at Third Place Books on Saturday. Sushi is, after all, PW’s favorite and I knew she’d understand if I took my friends up on an opportunity to indulge in a kid-free night of gastronomic bliss. Further conversation clarified their invite was for lunch, not dinner. I won on both counts!

I arrived at Third Place Books around 2:30  with the following: large farmer’s market basket full of wool roving, laptop, camera, new phone, purse and my copy of The Pioneer Woman Cooks. At the info desk, I scored my ticket in the ‘F’ section and scouted the place for a power outlet. The only one I could find was by the cash machine, facing the kiddy play area. Nearby, a woman dressed to the nines (henceforth she shall be called Miss Fancy) sat amid books and papers and her copy of PW’s book. She was My People.  The orange-covered book proved it. I set up shop in my little nook of the store and took about about four seats with all of my stuff.

I sat to work on a little present for PW’s younger daughter. Her younger girl shares a name with my youngest girl and I figured she was more into the doll-scene than her older sister. I jabbed at the little needle-felted doll, only sticking myself a few times in the process. I’d look up now and then to see people watching me, including Miss Fancy. I conceded it must look strange.  Fancy told me later she thought I was getting my voodoo on.

A few hours in to our wait, Miss Fancy and I made friends. She’s just as sweet as can be, and a teacher to boot. Turns out her name is Susie. When I asked if it was spelled with a ‘z’ or a ‘s’ she replied she wasn’t cutsie enough to spell it with a ‘z’. What did I say? She’s My People. Poor thing had to leave at 6:15 to go to a school auction so I said I’d get her book signed. You’d thought I was curing cancer, Fancy was so thankful.  She’s also a superfly blogger. Read her here: theallisonwonderland.com.

Susie and Me

Here we are, IFF (Internet Friends Forever)

If I hadn’t recently waited ten hours in the pouring rain to audition for a certain reality TV show (more to come on that adventure soon), I might have thought the wait was long. Sure, six hours is a chunk of time to wait to get a book signed but consider the environment:

1. Fanfreakingtastic bookstore

2. Proximity to French fries

3. Abundant supply of Diet Coke

Ree’s arrival into the bookstore turned me into DorkGirl in one fell swoop. I happened to be at the Info Desk when she arrived to check in. Hello, tall Ree!  Hello, tall oldest Daughter!  Hello, beautiful other woman who looked related (Ree’s mother-in-law). Starstruck.  Totally starstruck.

I’m sure Ree’s daughter is accosted by all kinds of crazy women-fans, but I had to have taken some sort of prize when I asked her to be in a picture with me. Through glass.  Like we were buddies.

Sweet girl just smiled and obliged.

Who is this crazy lady?

The letter F group was a plucky bunch. Many of us had to “browse” near the start of the line, busying ourselves with feigned interest in end caps, magnetic poetry and the sale table. I did find this little gem, perfect. A Third Place Book worker in a red sweater frequently disbursed F group loiterers with the same admonishment, “We can’t have you waiting near the start of the line. You’re welcome to browse, but you can’t hang out here.”

Finally, we F’s got our time in line. I had done my time “browsing” and my head even got a crick in it from my faux interest, so my place in line was near the front of gaggle of F’s. This little muffin was in front of me.

I want to eat her cheeks

Her mama and friend created little PW shirts for their kids. Hers said, “I [heart] Pioneer Men” and the boy’s said, “I [heart] Pioneer Woman.” Super cute. Baby boy was a mover and a shaker, wanting to be DOWN and CRAWLING. He was done with waiting in line. Luckily for him, I have an obsession with collecting plastic spoons from restaurants (“Say what?” you ask.  I use them for school lunches, okay?) and had a fresh stash in my purse. Baby boy and girl played with those spoons. They played hard. Lesson here: real toys are overrated.

Spoon Wars

With complete honesty, I will say that when I met  her I was far more star-struck than a few weeks ago when I met The Indigo Girls. What’s up with that, I wonder? I arrived at the signing table and promptly lost my mind.

For her part, PW was gracious and sweet.

She even let me take a picture of us, friends-style.

It's Me and PW

Thanks, Ree for the great day. Y’all come back to Seattle soon.

-Jesse