Nov. 18th —  So I’ve been on the Book Club circuit these days.    As a long-time Book Clubber, I LOVE book clubs.  Smart women, great conversation, lots of wine – what’s not to love?  But it’s a bit weird when I attend a book club and members remind me of how much they know about me.  A few examples:

 

       Please don’t mind Pookie, I know how much you hate small, yippy dogs.  In fact, let me put him in the hamper…

 

       Would you like a tumbler of Chardonnay? I bought this giant jug of it just for you…

 

       You know, I work out at the Underground Gym, too!  I can’t recall seeing you there lately…

 

       Wrapping Santa?  Sister, I know your pain…can we just sit down here and talk a minute because you’re not going believe how what my husband’s family does…

 

Remarkably, in the hubbub of everyday life I sometimes forget that I wrote a book about my life and included lots and lots of details about what I like (long flowing muumuu-like bathing suit cover ups, for example) and what I don’t like (cheesecake from a box). 

 

Gee, those two things have got to be connected…

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