Just Call Me A Dork

Those who know me (and those who read my blog) know that I am never at a loss for words.  A five-minute incident can easily turn into an one hour phone conversation and 1000 word blog – without a blink of an eye.  And in my short thirty something years, I have had no trouble talking with anyone – celebrities included.  Chatted with Beth Stern about children.  Chatted with Mike Holmes about construction.  I have even chatted with Robin Williams on the phone while donating relief during the Haiti telethon.  It is safe to say, I am verbose.

Or so I thought……

I recently had the privilege of attending Molly Ringwald’s book signing at the Princeton Public Library.  She was elegant.  She was intelligent.  She was gracious.  She was absolutely personable and approachable.   I wish I could say the same for myself.

See….I even look like a spaz in the photo!

I turned into a total spaz the minute she took the podium.  After reading an excerpt of her latest work, she eagerly took questions from the audience.  My mind just went blank.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

And it gets worse.

As I approached the table, I seriously must have seemed like a total mute, dork, weirdo and everything in between.  I could barely utter a word and when she asked my name I gave her the incorrect spelling of my name!  My own name!!!

Not sure what came over me, but I regret not having the brains to pull it together.  As someone who always toys with the idea of writing a book, I had the perfect opportunity to ask an author what and how and why she sat down at her desk that day to begin to write the book.  But instead I grinned and smiled and nodded my head.

What a Dork!