Thanks to my family and friends, as well as some strangers, who bought the 40 books the other night at my Sister's bar, Moose's Saloon. It thrilled me to meet people who did not know me or even of me that said they read the article in the paper and just wanted the book. That was a bonus.
Several lay on my living room floor. Those books have a purple sticky note with the eventual owner's name written on it and are spoken for. I gave very few books away, so don't feel bad if you weren't chosen. I'm still working to get those out so if you are one of those people, hold tight, I'll get it to you.
I'll share with you a couple strange interactions with strangers; the first man sat across from me and because it was Bar-Loud, our heads leaned in close together. He started out by praising the story he read in the newspaper but he quickly shifted his topic to God. There was a line of people waiting for signatures and it was time for him to move on so I told him I appreciated his sincere concern but that I was not a believer. And I thought it would end there but then he simply moved on to nutrition and mentioned refined sugars. I guess he really thought I needed his help. The line was growing so I told him I appreciated his suggestions but that I had done OK so far and was not looking for any of the help he thought I was in need of.
Next, an older man asked me how much I was charging. When I told him, he began counting out ones and throwing them in a pile in front of me. When he got to the last bill he pointed out to a letter A on a dollar bill and said, "You get an A for writing this book." That was cute so with a chuckled I thanked him but as I handed him the book he had just purchased, he said, "Hey! This isn't about Moose!"
I replied lickety split, "I'm his daughter!" And then I thumbed through the beginning of the book and found the picture of Moose and the actual bar to show him. "See," I said, "He's in here too! I talk about the Saloon a lot." He said he'd recently been able to return after having been kicked out, due to a misunderstanding. After picking up the book and turning to leave he told me he would maybe even read it. Phew, I still made the sale. That marketing degree is sometimes handy.
There may be a few books at Moostly Moose's and I don't have anymore at home. I know there are typos and my editor Heidi Ostrom has been great about trying to get things fixed. But as my sister says, "Everyone knows you have had a head injury, so they get it." The question now is whether I should print anymore.
