Last week I told you that I went and saw the one and only Ree Drummond (aka The Pioneer Woman) when she stopped through Boston on her book tour. And I also told you that I totally embarrassed myself. More on that in a minute.
As a matter of fact, she spoke just down the street from our apartment at the Coolidge Corner theater.
I went with Clarice, my friend Kathryn, and Kathryn’s sister-in-law Katie (I know – never enough Caties/Catherines/Kathryns/Katherines/Katies/you get it). We left early from work to line up. We got there a full hour before the doors opened, and it was a good thing we did.
It was raining, but Kathryn bought provisions. And an umbrella.
After we had each eaten three peanut butter eggs (Hello, Easter, I love you), they opened the doors early and we were only 4 rows from the woman herself.
I didn’t take more pictures inside, because we were asked to not use flash photography. Well. That, and I was too busy grinning like an idiot, trying to figure out how to become The Pioneer Woman, Jr. and being the first and loudest to laugh at everything. She spoke for 40 minutes (kicking it off with her Static Guard story, which she shared again here on Friday) and then it was a mad dash to the bookstore across the street where she was signing copies of her cookbook.
We didn’t dash fast enough. The line was already around the corner.
But we waited with books in hand and smiles on our faces…
For three hours.
And it was cold. My toes actually started going numb.
(Thank God Kevin doesn’t have a foot fetish, right? But look at my poor baby toes – they’re white! And that was after being inside for 15 minutes, and they stayed that way for another 20.)
The line not only went all the way around the street corner, but it also went all the way down to the back of the bookstore and back up again. So from the time we first saw Ree…
I had another hour to think of something amazing to say that would make us best friends and inspire her to impart her wisdom on me.
But I’m me. And she’s Ree. So the conversation actually went like this:
Ree: “Hi there!”
Me: “Your cheeks must hurt.”
Let me repeat: Your cheeks must hurt.
(Ree gives me a confused smile.)
Me: “Oh. I mean your cheeks must hurt from smiling so much…”
Ree: (Pats her cheeks) “Oh no. Actually, smiling isn’t so bad.”
Duh, Catie. Normal people like to smile – even you – and awesome people like Ree like to smile even more, so they even know to keep a smile on their faces when you come up and say something completely backwards and they keep smiling while you keep stumbling around in an attempt to rekindle what should have been the beginning of the life long relationship with your new best friend/idol/inspiration.
Me: “Well. I mean. Even me – if I have smile all day at work, I just feel like I have to come home and relax my face.” (WHAT?!)
(Ree gives me that same sweet “this poor girl” smile as I keep digging myself deeper.)
Me: “Well. Um. Thanks for coming tonight. Well worth the wait.”
You can see I’m blushing. And Ree is probably trying to lean toward me a little less than she did with other folks… I don’t blame her. My cheeks hurt for the next 24 hours from grimacing every time I thought of my wasted 15-second-after-a-three-hour-wait brush with fame.
O.M.Ree. How embarrassing. What about you? Do your cheeks hurt from grimacing in sympathy? Or just from grimacing at my feet… At least she still signed my cookbook. Bless her.