But it was pretty late by this point and we were kind of tired. I really don’t know WHAT was going on with my hair.
By the time Allison picked up the kids from day care and her husband came home, it was coming up on 7pm. Starving, ready to get to our little celebration, we bolted out the door.
It didn’t even occur to me to pop open the suitcase and, say, run a brush through my hair.
This tells you where my head was. I wouldn’t even post this pic, but we look far worse this morning.
But we had fun. Allison drank about nine diet cokes — I told the waitress just to keep ’em coming, I’m generous like that — and I downed plenty of Chardonnay. We stuffed ourselves with enough food to feed a small country and brought home enough leftovers to last through another Snowmageddon.
It’s one of those things, that by the time you sign the book contract, it’s not all that exciting anymore. We toasted her success — three-book contract with Pocket, if you hadn’t seen the previous posts — and then spent the rest of the time talking plots for the next two books and strategizing how she’ll promote them.
We had fun being together and talking real time, instead of our usual non-simultaneous gig.
Next time we’re together, at RWA National, we’ll take far more glam photos, I promise.