The Shame

I went to a book signing in the neighborhood tonight.
Oh, my.
Because of the way my time is organized, though, and because the book signing didn't start until 7:30pm, I came away empty-handed. Well, that's not true, I came away with some bribery books, some unicorn thing and some Clone Wars deal.
And I came away with a slightly sinking feeling around the heart area because the author (John Hodgman) was making fun (lightly, of course) about the way kids dominate the lifestyle of our neighborhood. And since my kids' bedtime was the prime reason I couldn't stick around for the actual signing part of the book discussion and signing, I couldn't buy a book.
The store, in its wisdom, had removed all the copies from the floor for a more easy signing frenzy access. Or, conversely, for random shopping inaccess.
Maybe I'll just get a copy and forge his signature. Or stalk the neighborhood for Hodgman sightings. He should wear a bright red scarf like Paul Auster, to be more inconspicuously conspicuous.
The kids, incidentally, were great. They were reading in the back - Madge was reading to Coco, that is - with occasional forages to me to visit the bathroom or to tell me about the Obama books they found.