Here's a photo I didn't take.  It's from last week's book signing and is part of Sarah Brown's photostream. She, too, is a big-deal blogger, and she also signed her name on the essay she wrote for the book. The book is called Things I Learned about My Dad (In Therapy) and some of the essays are on the funnier side, but I think all of them have deeper levels of poignance. All the essays are about fatherhood, and some pieces, some sentences, even fragments really struck a chord with me.

Oh, Sarah Brown. Right. Here's a comment I left for her:

I can't believe this is the very first time I've ever been to your site. Thanks so much for signing my book Wednesday night. As if you'd remember, I marked the essays with pink Post-Its so it would be easy for the authors to sign right by their names. (Or in case the authors forgot their names.) I also commented how much I enjoyed your memory of the Muppets and your dad and "The Rainbow Connection" and how it made me cry. I neglected to say I was in a public place when I read that, so I'm forwarding my next therapy bill to you. ;)

I love reading interesting blogs and compelling writing, and it's great to meet the minds and personalities that contribute so generously to my internet addiction. Seriously, I can't thank you enough.

Yay!

And here's part of an email I wrote Heather Armstrong. The email started out with the blurb I wrote about the photo of us:

I'm not sure why I started talking about the KKK, probably because I know you're from the South, and the KKK is definitely a Southern thing. The actual story is my high school band was headed down to Gainesville for a concert band festival. It was springtime, 1993 or 1994. The buses were stopped at some railroad tracks in Starke, Florida (Bradford County, southwest of Jacksonville). Hundreds of people dressed in hoods and sheets were holding some sort of protest; they lined the highway, picketing and chanting something. (I initially wanted to call what they were wearing capes and cowls, but that's totally Batman.) So we stared for a while then started singing our band tunes. All I ever really knew or heard of the KKK is what I've seen in movies and in American History class. Then my band director, who lived in Bradford county (hmm...), told us a major chapter of the KKK is in Starke. If you've ever heard of Nathan Bedford Forrest, he was one of the grandmasters of the KKK. They named a HIGH SCHOOL after him. Black kids totally ruled the school.

This is why I can't be fans of things or people. I write them obnoxious, rambling letters, and I babble and I don't make sense. If I knew where to send fan mail to Patty Griffin, I'd do it. Don't ask if I've written Meg Hutchinson. Do. Not. Back in the day I used to write Hilary Hahn. I actually gave her fan mail when she performed in Jacksonville in 2001. I had her autograph my CDs and I handed her a letter I wrote in my nicest handwriting. The next evening I headed back to the Times-Union Center to get an autograph for a friend. She remembered me and told me I hand very good handwriting. Also? Remember Xander from Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Yeah, I tried tracking down his email and sending him letters. And, people? Remember Kim Zmeskal in the '92 summer Olympics? I couldn't sleep at night because I had these daydreams she'd move to Middleburg, and we'd take the same classes and be best friends. We're the same age; it totally could have happened.

I'm very proud to say, ladies and gentlemen, my record is free from restraining orders. I keep it under control most of the time.