Last night was one of those nights you remember forever. I had all my closest friends in one place eating tacos and cake pops together at my favorite restaurant as I brought my book baby out into the world.
I live near the land of The Walking Dead, and nestled smack in the middle of the action is my favorite restaurant, Southern Ground Social Club, which Alex and I hit up just about every date night we can. For the last year, I’ve been dreaming about having a book launch party there, and last night it happened. What better place to celebrate a Scary book than in a world of creepy zombies?
Right after New Year’s Eve, I found a glittery party dress on a clearance rack for $30. And it has pockets, making it so practical I may have to test it out at the bus stop one day. I put it on with my Doc Martens, and my daughter was horrified.
Hor-ri-fied. She’s a heels girl all the way, the higher the better, and she walked into my room and said this in her fancy European accent like someone out of “Sprockets”:
Ana (Dieter): Oh, Mommy, no.
Me: What?
Ana: I lahve the dress, Mommy, but the boooots? No.
Me: I love the boots.
Ana: NOOO. Theese ees not you, Mommy. (makes face and waves her finger around like The Disney Channel and heads to my closet to dig my dusty heels out of the back)
Me: This is exactly me. The boots are so me. They are not you.
Ana: No, Mommy, they are not you. Eets really, really bahd. Really bahd.
Me: Go away now.
Ana: Touch my mahnkey. Touch it. Laaahve it. (Okay, I’m in the Sprockets mood now and possibly making up this last part.)
This straight-haired Yankee called upon the Southern Sisterhood of Hair Care to give me some party hair that would defy the humidity. (You know how in The Walking Dead they always look sweaty and sticky? It’s not just because they’re running from Walkers. It’s how it is.) My kids’ babysitter brought over her curling iron and curled my hair for me and I borrowed hairspray from my neighbor. The mice sang “Cinderelli, Cinderelli, Cinderelli, Cinderelli.”
Y’all. It was so fun. I don’t think I’ve done this for 20 years. It was like homecoming without all the guy-pressure, because I’ve been dating this handsome dude for nineteen years.
And he has mad design skillz and made me this banner stand so everything looks all official and real. (From here on out, all the photos will have a glowy red aura, because the lighting in this place is like Vlad the Impaler’s living room.
The Zonderpeeps (I’ve typed it Zonderpeeps so many times now that autocorrect tries to correct me when I actually write Zondervan.) sent me these books for everybody, so Best Party Favors EVER!
All my fourth-basers were there. I changed all their names in the book to Doctor Who companions, and it was fun hearing them talk about it. “Who are you? I’m Rose.” “I’m Donna.” “Who am I? Rory? Awesome.” (I’m not sure which Doctor I am. I’m as intense as Nine, overdramatic as Ten, silly as Eleven, and cranky as Twelve. Also, in my real life I’m not the center of the universe and am really more like Donna’s grandad, Wilfred Mott, who looks up at the sky and wonders what all the cool people are doing up there.)
There were cake pops and skulls everywhere, although not the oozing, squishy kind from The Walking Dead. More glittery. Pretty skulls. Everywhere.
Even the bathrooms.
Alex decided we had to fit as many people as possible in the bathroom and take many, many pictures. I highly recommend this at all parties. The crowded bathroom shot. Fun for the whole gang. (There actually were men at my party, but they did not partake of the bathroom photo session.)
Here’s my favorite little spot in the room. This is the piano player:
Hmm, what scary song is he playing? Ooh, good choice, Mr. Bones.
Here are all the local fourth-basers and writers who contributed to the book. There are so many more scattered around the globe, but here are the nearby ones. So many stories, so many different perspectives on mom friends and life.
The hot blonde is my mom, and these are some of her fourth-basers, who are like extra moms and grammies for our family. It takes a village, people. (Not to be confused with Village People. Well, it takes them, too.)
Most of my photos are me with people I love. The whole night was maybe like being alive at my own funeral. So many lovely people and I just want to replay the night in slow-motion in my head.
My friend Dawn gave me this “Write Your Story” print. It’s perfect. She’s perfect. I’m putting it in my office where I can see it every time I write.
And my friend Jenni made this for me. She cut apart a sampler of my book and turned it into a shadowbox. I started crying and had to do the Sandra Bullock “fans-face-with-hands” from Miss Congeniality to recover.
Ginny made me a Nerds Rope bouquet. I’ve gone a whole week without Nerds and things were getting dire. God bless your ministry, Ginny.
Here’s Alex with his fourth-baser. I mean, there’s a whole chapter on these two in the book, “Praying for a Bromance.” They’re so ridiculous together and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I signed books for people. For the first time ever. At first I felt like I was going to get in trouble, like I was defacing library property. And my handwriting is horrible.
Earlier this week, I had to google how to autograph books because NERD. And then I texted a couple of my People Who Are Smarter Than Me (It’s a long list.).
So we all got together and I gave out signed copies of my book and we had a blast and shut ‘er down. (By “shut ‘er down,” I mean, home by 10pm, because we’re parents, and school night, hullo.) It was the absolute most fun.
I couldn’t quit smiling.
And then this morning, the coach was a pumpkin, and I fed my kids leftover cake pops for breakfast. Back to life, back to reality. Back to yoga pants and sitting shirt.
I wish every single one of you could’ve been there. This whole not-living-in-the-same-place thing (and limited taco budget) is really cramping our style, huh?
But wait…
You’re Invited to the Party
Since we couldn’t eat tacos together in person, I want to invite you to a party that we can all attend together, and even in our jammies. City Moms Blogs is throwing a Women Are Scary Twitter party on March 18 from 8:30-9:30 central time. If you RSVP here, you’ll be entered to win one of six signed copies of my book. I hope you guys can come over and hang out. Get the kids to bed, or at least in their rooms (that’s all I can ever hope for), pour a glass of wine or mug of coffee, and curl up in your jammies for a fun hour of dishing about finding mom friends. (Maybe we should come up with a safety word that you can use if I get out of line. These other women from other blogs don’t know yet how awkward I am.) I hope you can come!!!
