Books, battlefieds, and booze: That’s how I roll

Well, that was a weekend.  Today I’m hobbling around like a 95-year-old coal miner with bad ankles.

But I won a medal.

signing2Soooo, let’s journey back to Friday night, which was my very first ever book signing.  And I was filled with terror, anxiety, overwhelming shyness and, of course, I wore a miniskirt and platform shoes.  Because nothing tempts fate more than a miniskirt and platform shoes.

The Hubs and I were circling the block, trying to find a place to park (side note: metered parking is a joke.  Twenty-five cents for fifteen minutes?  No.  Stupid) when I saw a sign outside of a shop, which read, “Book signing: 6-8.”

I said to The Hubs, “Oh look!  There’s a book signing!”


I said, “Oh wait, that’s my book signing!”

And thusly, I both mentally and physically arrived at The Adams County Winery.

It was actually really, really fun.  The ladies at The Adams Country Winery were amazing and so incredibly friendly.  I got to try a few wines (I’ve wanted to try their white wine, Gettysburg’s Tears, for years and I was NOT disappointed) and discovered asigning1 magical thing called a wine slushy.  It was a pretty slow night, so I didn’t sell crates of books or anything, but it was a fabulous experience.  My mother and Rambling Jour regular, Sara, and her hubs Jai, all came down and hung out.  It was so much fun!

I did live Tweet part of the book signing, mainly, my anti-social, panic princess nervousness before the signing started.  Reviewing them, my favorite was this gem:

As I panic for my #booksigning, I picked a Monster to drink. Now I’m nervous and ready to do a cartwheel.

Luckily, I didn’t attempt the cartwheel.  But I did almost fall off the curb.

It was a fabulous experience and I’m looking forward to setting up another signing where I can be equally as awkward.  So, if you weren’t able to come out to this signing, no worries because there will (hopefully) be more.  In related news, setting up book signings is actually hard.

On Saturday, the other moment we’ve all been waiting happened: The Hard Cider Run at Hauser Estate Winery (what is it with her an wineries? Said no one ever).  This was my first ever 5k so I had no idea what to expect.  Well, other than having to run 5k.  The Hubs was not entirely excited about it, but upon packet pickup we were presented with a t-shirt that says “Will Run for Cider.”

We were very excited about this.

run1We actually missed our 9:10 wave because traffic was so bad, but we managed to join the 9:30 wave.  And.  Can I just say.  This race was amazing and an insane amount of fun–but it was HARD.  It wasn’t a little stroll through the vineyard.  It was a cross country, hiking up huge, steep hills, and stumbling down hills in the hot, glare of the August sun.

And because this wasn’t like, the Tough Mudder or something, we also ran through grape vines which was really, really cool.

The Hubs and I walked a lot of the race–but so did everyone else, because the terrain was crazy–and our time wasn’t the kind that will win records, but I had an amazing time.  Upon crossing the finish line, I was promptly presented with a medal and a banana.  I know, right???  I was thrilled.  Gift bananas, awards, and then a glass of cider–where I get to keep the glass?  Sweeeeet.

Later that evening, we went to the Gettysburg BrewFest, which is exactly what you’d think it is: a festival of beer.  Yes.  There was rumor there would be sobriety checkpoints everywhere that night and the last thing I wanted was The Hubs to drink water all night, so we made the adult decision to walk to the BrewFest, instead of drive.

Which seemed like a good idea at the time.

On a normal day, it would have been fine.  On a day where we’d earlier run/walked over three miles, it was not, in fact, a notable decision.  Here’s what I learned about myself at BrewFest:

  • I do not like pepper infused port.  I said, and I quote, “Blech.”
  • I have an affinity for hard cider
  • I’ll buy hoodies in 88 degree weather
  • Grilled cheese sandwiches stuffed with mac and cheese are a gift from God
  • After three glasses of beer, I will go up to guys with beards and say, “Can I have my picture taken for you?  It’s for my blog.”

So that happened.

According to my Fitbit, I walked/ran 18 miles.  My ankles are so unhappy.  My back and arms (which is odd, because the heaviest thing I carried was my laptop bag) are unhappy.  Last night, as I was flopped across the couch, I said to The Hubs, “I seriously just want someone to strap me into the Rack so my arms and legs can get a good stretch.”

I then looked at him and said, “Can you just grab me by the ankles and pull me across the floor?”

As I’m still hobbling around like Quasimodo today, obvs his answer was no.  I’m so old these days.

I still have a ton of hardcopy books in my possession, so if you’re interested in an autographed copy, just let me know.  This can totally happen.

Meanwhile, it’s back to the real world.  But then, recently I’ve been a firm supporter of rejecting reality and substituting my own version.  One Direction is breaking up.  I have to go to work tomorrow.  If you need me, Harry Styles and I will be riding Falcor to Castle Greyskull to have lunch with Poppels and the cast of Zubilee Zoo.

In other words, back to status quo.


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