When You Are Engulfed in Flame.
Today, Olivia finally got the big present I had been promising her since Christmas. David Sedaris came to town (yay!) and we went to see him, with Mom in tow.
As I figured, it was spectacular and hilarious. From the random 16-year-old he got to introduce him (damn kid...it coulda been me!), to the already-published stuff he read to us, plus his diary entries from his factfinding trip to Japan, and the review of The Zombie Survival Guide and subsequent discussion of zombie myth and steps one can take to accurately zombie-proof one's home (Tip 1: Zombies cannot climb. The second story of a house is your friend.), the evening was glorious.
Since we were sitting near the door, we were well-placed in the line afterwards for book signing. As he signed my book (which he also illustrated with a drawing of a jack o' lantern/monkey thing), he talked with me about studying English and reassured me that writing horrible, overwrought fiction at 22 is exactly what I ought to expect from myself now. So, yay. I suppose. I was rather glad he did most of the talking, because I wasn't sure what to say, and probably would have talked about the one time I dreamed I was in a zombie movie, except I was British, an ad executive, and a man. Which, looking back on it now, is perhaps too weird even to tell David Sedaris.
Olivia had no book to sign, so he signed her ticket instead, then offered her a choice between a bottle of hand lotion he got from his hotel in Santa Barbara, or a rubber peanut. She took the peanut. He then gave me a bottle of mouthwash. Not as cool as a rubber peanut, but still. David Sedaris mouthwash! Fabulous.
So, all told, I scored a great evening out, a signed copy of Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and a bottle of mouthwash. Not bad for a Sunday.