I have too many of these things queued up. Now I am adding yet another. Being on the trip got me in the habit of carrying this notebook around, and writing in it wherever I was, at any time. Now I can't seem to stop.

Should I say where I am right at this moment? It's not glamorous. I write from my seat atop the percelain throne. The toilet.

I can imagine my readership collectively saying what Mia Wallace said to Vincent in Pulp Fiction. "That's a little more information than I need."

Feel free to tune out at any time.

Tonight, I took mom out to dinner. I had intended to do so on Mother's Day last month, but she was so busy running around tending to her mother that she didn't have time then. So tonight was belated Mother's Day. She wanted to eat at PF Chang, so that's where we went.

While we were waiting, we went over to Border's. As I walked through, a man sitting at a table asked if I liked Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. I responded in the affirmative. (Had he used a different logical operator, my response would have been different.)

He introduced himself as a local author who is currently writing a fantasy series. The first book is currently on the shelves, and the second will be out soon, and the third is being written. He was doing a signing of his first one tonight.

I looked at the book for a couple minutes, read the introduction and the first couple pages, and looked at some of the maps in the front. It did look interesting. The price marked on the back was more than I would ever normally pay for a novel though. $30.

I contemplated, and listened as he had conversations with some other people who wandered up. Then I did what I didn't really want to do. I told him I would take a copy.

He signed one to me personally and thanked me.

I wandered around the store for a few more minutes before completing the transaction.

Why did I do that? It wasn't because I wanted the book all that badly. I had never heard of this guy before entering the store. Part of the reason, I suppose, was out of sympathy. You know somebody isn't exactly in top demand when they are approching you, the random passerby, about a book signing. Another reason was that someone from another group of people who approached the table had read it, and spoke highly of it. Plus, it did look interesting based on my brief reading of the first few pages.

Had I been honest, I would have said, "This looks interesting, but $30 is too much for me. Maybe when the paperback comes out." But I didn't want to say that, because I now realize that I have an intense fear of looking like a cheap bastard, much moreso than I had ever acknowledged.

Well, I hope the book is good. It better be. Sometimes, I feel like such a moron. (This is also why I generally make a point of staying away from places where people try to sell me stuff. After such an encounter, I end up feeling crappy no matter what I do.)