(as it turns out, this may be my longest post ever. Feel free to digest it over the weekend. Or skim. Or skip it entirely.)
My evening spent standing in line to meet The Pioneer Woman, part two (continued from part one):
So, where did I leave off?
Oh, right. My boots.
So $30 and a long walk later, I found myself near the end of the line. I thought. Except more and more and more people kept filling in behind me. I immediately realized most everyone in line was there as part of a group.
I discovered right off that the cute group of mid-twenty-somethings directly behind me were part of a supper club because they spent the first half-hour pouring through their cookbooks and noting which recipes they should make for upcoming meetings of The Supper Club. They were cute girls, and they talked and laughed at a reasonable volume that provided very satisfactory eavesdropping pleasure.
Directly in front of me were two younger-than-me women, one with a darling two year old. Quite a few women, actually, had kids with them. Early in my plan-making, I had considered taking one of the girls with me, and as the reality of the line ahead of me began to sink in, I was so glad I had opted not. No way would either of my children made it ten minutes in that line.
And yes, most everyone in line was a woman, however at some point in the first half-hour of line-standing, a middle-aged man in an OU athletic jacket sort of cut in line behind me. No one said anything to him. I think most of us wondered if he was lost.
Now, you'll have to remember that I didn't have my copy of the cookbook. In fact, I had no reading material. Worse yet, I had no pen and no paper. I had my cell phone, and I texted back and forth with Laura and my sister a little bit, but it was too loud in the echo-y halls of the building we were in for me to catch up on returning any phone calls.
So it was just me and my mad eavesdropping skills.
And my boots.
About forty-five minutes in, I began to severely regret my choice in footwear. SEVERELY. There wasn't anywhere to sit for the vast majority of the line-standing, and for only the first hour or so was there a wall to lean against. It was mostly just standing. And standing. And shifting my weight. And daydreaming about my Crocs Adaras, and standing some more.
When I had been in line for about an hour, someone brought Ree's older kids back to see the line. They were all just as beautiful as her photos capture, and it was clear by the look on each of their faces that they were stunned to see the turnout. Eyebrows raised and slightly grinning, their faces spoke of disbelief. She's PW to so many, but to them, she's just Mom.
Around 7:45 (I had been there since shortly after 6 PM), a couple of women came back to talk to a group of their friends who were standing a few people in front of me. These women were absolutely flushed and beaming and had clearly just been in her presence. They reported, none-too-quietly, that Ree wouldn't be able to stay any later than 8:30 because she had to be at a dinner/reception being given in her honor.
As that little tidbit made its way through the line (telephone-style), there was nearly an instant change in energy. Where there had once been excitement, smiles, and anticipation, there was now furrowed brows, pursed lips, and, well, deflation.
We hadn't even made it out of the hallway that housed the end of the line yet. Not just a few behind me gathered their things and left. I think it was around this time The Supper Club departed. I exchanged glances with the two women in front of me, and we all just kind of shrugged our shoulders.
Let's wait and see . . .
As 8:30 approached, my section of the line made it out of the hallway and into the wide open of the main courtyard area of the building. I called my sister Emily and to tell her my feet were killing me. I told her about the 8:30 news and how I was bummed that I had essentially wasted 2 1/2 hours, but I was going to stick it out, particularly since my book was somewhere up there at the table where Ree sat, lovingly signing books for those who were wise enough to stake out a claim far earlier than I had.
(Sidenote: in this general time frame, an absolutely precious woman came back through the line holding a darling toddler. She and the older, distinguished-looking woman with her were just as friendly as could be, stopping and talking with people in line in such a way that I thought they were friends with some of the women in front of me. I looked and looked at the younger of the two women, and kept thinking, I KNOW HER. I could not place her for the life of me. Then I heard her say, "Oh, this is Ree's mom." It was then that I realized that the women I could swear I knew was Betsy, and that I knew her because Ree's post on resisting the temptation to over-edit is one of my favorites, and it feature's Betsy's lovely face.)
I don't think it's my imagination - I really do think the line sped up briefly as the clock neared 8:30. The impending deadline must have inspired disillusion in more than one fan, and we picked up the pace quite a bit. Additionally, it was around this time that Marlboro Man himself began working his way down the line, talking with fans and signing books. The ladies in front of me and I agreed that this must be the consolation prize for those of us who wouldn't make it to Ree.
And girls, let me tell you. I have seen some consolation prizes in my day, but I do not think I have ever seen one the likes of Marlboro Man.
I'm going to try to keep my composure as I describe this part of the evening (out of respect for my own beloved man), but listen to me. You might think when you hear Ree describe his "steely blue eyes" or see pictures of him on PW that maybe she is embellishing her description or perhaps tweaking the color of his eyes a bit in Photoshop. Let me assure you, no. There is no embellishment. I've never seen anything quite like Marlboro Man, but I can completely see how a chance run-in with him would persuade Ree to drop her law-school-in-Chicago plans and transplant herself right on out to that ranch.
It was hysterical to see what would happen as he approached each part of the line. Women - grown women, quite a few who were quite a bit older than me - were laughing and giggling and blushing like teenagers. When he would take a book to sign, the owner of that book would suddenly get all tongue-tied, and I don't think it was my imagination - I think some eyelashes may have been batted.
Not only is he easy on the eyes, he has a voice that would pretty much stop you in your tracks.
I better stop now.
Focusing. Focusing.
Okay, so again, we were all convinced this was it. It was like 8:29 and we were miles away from Ree. I decided to go into Full Circle to see if I could get my book so I could leave. One of the clerks at the desk said, "Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?" And when I told her about the 8:30 cut-off we had heard about, both clerks sucked in their breath and began exhaling at the same time, "Oh! No, no, no! That's not true at all! The author has said she'll stay as late as she needs to so that everyone who wants to can get their book signed."
I heart Ree.
So I went back to my spot in line (without my book, because at this point, I seriously didn't have the mental energy to process words), and shared the happy news. A few minutes later, both clerks came out and began announcing to everyone still in line that Ree, in fact, would be signing until the very last person made it to the table. I think a small cheer went up. I called Kyle and told him what was going on and that I could expect to be there for a few more hours. I wondered if I should stay.
"Oh, you have to stay now. You are totally invested."
And so, stay I did.
Aching, throbbing feet and all. Oh, and a hungry tummy. I hadn't eaten any of the meatloaf and mashed potatoes I had served for dinner because it was early when I left (5:15 or so), and I thought I would be there maybe an hour or two, and then I could grab something on my way home. Because have I mentioned I had no! i! dea! there would be so many people?
Thankfully, one of the building restaurants was still open, so I was able to grab some quesadillas and Diet Coke while the sweet ladies in front of me held my place. (I could write a completely separate post on the group dynamics of line-standing, because that sort of thing fascinates me. I'm afraid, however, I might be alone in that fascination, so I'll save you that snooze fest.)
It's worth noting that as I waited for my order in the restaurant, a fellow end-of-the-line-stander was waiting for hers and we chit-chatted for a minute. She told me she had been reading PW for years, and when she had heard about the book signing tonight, she thought to herself, "Oh, I hope a few people will turn out for her." So, see? I wasn't the only delusional one there that night.
Sooooooooo. Probably enough talk for now.
Here's the outside of Full Circle. Nice and blurry, just like you like it. You're welcome.
Okay, so here is Pearl the Buffalo.
I mean bison.
I grew up in Oklahoma and I still have no idea what the heck the difference is between the two.
Pearl the Bison is the mascot (of sorts) for Full Circle books. She stands around and champions Oklahoma writers and books about Oklahoma. If you are into that sort of thing, you can read all about her plight and her passion here.
I was thrilled to have something to look at, so I took several shots of her. Just for you, friends.
At 10:30, I called Emily back. She answered by saying, "Are you done? Did you meet her?"
No, sister. I just crossed the threshold that led into Full Circle.
Photo-worthy:
I'm surprised you can't see that by this point, my feet are just about to burst right out of my boots they were so swollen.
(Second sidenote: Just before I crossed over, I got a few texts and then a phone call from my friend Trisha who had been in the cafe when Ree arrived. We were sad to have missed each other, and I was REALLY sad I didn't know she was going to be there so early!)
Onward.
Here's what awaited us line-standers as we crossed into Full Circle. I took a shot of that table because it features a book by an author near and dear to our current hometown.
If only the line had snaked through the bookstore instead of through the building . . . Can you imagine what heaven that would have been? A forced stay of several hours inside a bookstore? Heaven, I tell you.
Oh! I almost forgot to tell about the Aussie ladies. So by this point, the people ahead of and behind me were a completely new crowd than I had started with. OU Guy had long since dropped out (I surmised from his phone conversations he was going to get it signed as a surprise for his wife. I guess the later it got, the less he had a believable excuse for not being home yet).
I was delighted that the last 45 minutes of the ordeal evening, I was in the presence of a group of three women from Austrailia. You have no idea how pleasant that was. I could have listened to them talk for hours, they were so lovely and enchanting. Just a wonderful gift to keep up my energy for the last leg of this marathon.
Finally, finally, FINALLY!!!
11:00 PM. Finally. And can I just say, BLESS REE'S HEART?!!! She had been smiling and chatting and signing books for almost five hours at this point, and you just cannot believe how gracious and charming and kind she was.
Here's MM keeping Ree company. This shot in no way does justice . . .
And here we are again.
It was absolutely, completely worth it. You know why? The book I had signed? It's not for me. It's a gift for someone I love very much. And I would stand that line all over again to get that book signed.
This time in sneakers, perhaps. With a pillow. And snacks. And a book. Or at the very least, a pen and paper.
