This is going to take a long time, so I will break it all into several posts over the next few days. I just have so much to ramble on and on about that I can't condense it all into one post...plus, my two youngest kids are going to have "Lord of the Flies" thing happening soon, and I have to take the youngest to have more blood drawn today, so I need to keep at least SOME sense of order around here.
Well, I'll try. (Shut up, nay sayers.)
So I arrived around 1:30 on Friday afternoon, with my mother in tow, and we were both marveling at the Bellevue Hilton. Now, it's important to add that we are not used to staying in hotels where you don't enter the rooms from the outside, where the cups in the rooms aren't plastic and wrapped in cellophane, and where room service costs as much as the mortgage on my first house. This was new for me. This place was nice. Really nice. The ceilings in the room were higher than the ceilings in our house. It made coming home to my little rancher/fixer-upper we live in here like coming home to a cell. (Okay, that was an exaggeration, but you get the drift. It was a new thing for me.) And one whole wall was windows that faced trees and a stream. A stream. When we stayed in our motel at Disney this past spring, our room overlooked our car. Yeah. I think you get why I was psyched. I had my mom take pictures of my at the desk, pretending to talk on the phone, which I've included. I was really trying to look important. Never mind the Old Navy tee shirt and my idiotic smirk. I was making deals, man! "Buy! Buy! Sell! Sell!"
But, I digress...
So anyway, I was waiting in line to check in, and this awesome looking woman sauntered up to some other women in line, hugging them, kissing them, talking to them in an accent I couldn't place, etc. I immediately turned to my mother, who was still marveling at the lovely glass elevators (so much better than the ones at the Travelodge that smell like urine, and are often the site of unsavory sexual encounters, I'm sure.) and said, "I want to BE her when I grow up." Which, I realize is probably somewhat insulting to my mother, since they were probably around the same age. I want to be like you, too, mom. I promise.
Anyhoo, this woman has fabulous red hair, and a fabulous outfit of orange and brown, including knee high boots that clickety clacked nicely on the marble floors (yes, I said marble), and she had long acrylic nails painted (what else?) orange, which we all know that orange is my fave. And she was hilarious and fabulous and silly and giddy and I immediately wanted to be her. Well, lo and behold, it turned out to be the fabulous (how many more times can I say that damn word) Cherry Adair! Kiss and Tell (The Men of T-FLAC: The Wrights, Book 2)
Yes, this Cherry Adair. Mind you, I'd heard that she was fabulous, but I didn't know fabulous until I saw Cherry Adair in person. She is everything I want to be in another 25 years. Funny, talented, successful, beautiful, brassy, sassy, mouthy, hilarious, wise, loving....*SIGH* I had a moment. And a new obsession was born.
So anyway, I had to leave the conference slightly early yesterday (it was a long drive home) so I missed the last luncheon, and my opportunity to sign up for Cherry Adair's "Finish The Damn Book" challenge for next year. I emailed her, and I am hoping to be able to sign up via email, but I'm not sure. I might have missed it. I hope not, though. If I finish my damn book by next year's conference, I will be able to get a little certificate and to meet and hug the holy grail herself! How freakin' cool is that!?
Ok, that was a little bit stalker-ish. And for that, I apologize. However, from one woman with great hair to another....it was really cool to get to know you, Ms. Adair. You are, without a doubt....wait for it.... FABULOUS.
More to come later. I still have to discuss how I humiliated myself by giggling like "Squints" on The Sandlot when I saw Brenda Novak. Woops.
Brooke Moss.
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