And by babies, I mean books.
Yes, I have children. No, they don't all live at home. Pretty much whenever that happens it's more like a drive-by than an actual visit. He comes home for the weekend and it's over super fast. So, no. Those are not the babies of which I speak.
I'm talking Montgomerys.
Yesterday was the BEST UPS delivery ever. Although to the driver it was just another delivery, I almost hugged him. He backed away slowly as I did a happy dance at the sight of the boxes.
Yeah, heads up Barnes and Noble - I'm coming to multiple locations next week and taking pictures again and screeching like a fangirl over my own books. Warn security. Maybe have Starbucks on alert with a muffin and a tall hot chocolate (no whip!) ready as a distraction. Just sayin.
I love looking over at this bookcase and seeing it full with these books. I can't describe the feeling to you. When the first two books came to me, I cried. Like a big, sad, ugly cry. My husband and 15 year old son sort of looked at one another awkwardly as they tried to figure out what the heck was wrong with me.
And then wanted me to pose for a picture! Without fixing my makeup! Men!
I know I write. I know I publish. But for so many years my books have been something that you can SEE on your Kindle, your NOOK, your iPad and whatnot. But to hold them in my hands?? Well, that really was something amazingly emotional. And while I admit I do cry easily - and sometimes at completely inappropriate times - the emotion here was real.
The only problem with that picture you see? You'll note the three white spots on the wall. In reality it looks like a lower-case 'n' and an exclamation point and yes, it's left over from the construction. No, the walls aren't finished. The ceilings aren't finished. And no one has come back. I have a feeling that is some kind of message on the wall that the painters and drywall guys were using to communicate with one another that I'm a crazy person. What do you think?