OK, so as much as I love book festivals and I'm thrilled to be on YA panels and sign and do events for little kids, there is an element of performance anxiety involved here. (See my last blog post for a tongue-cleaves-to-palate moment.) So, in a paroxysm of pre-feminist girliness, unable to deal with the internal effectively, I focus on the externals. Such as: What will I wear? Will I be sitting at a table draped with cloth or on a bar-stool height captain's chair, in which case, a knee length dress is truly a bad idea? Will I be in an overly air-conditioned barn of a convention hall or community center -- in which case it doesn't matter what I wear because I'll be draped in a pashmina -- or sweltering? So this coming weekend, in a spurt of literary energy, I'll be at the Vegas Valley Book Festival on a YA panel on Saturday (2:15 in YA tent #2), and then racing down to La Jolla for a picture book event Sunday morning. San Diego is easy: billowy linen. But Las Vegas????? It's Las Vegas!!!!!
So yesterday, when my husband was watching the Stanford-Oregon State game and I was curled up beside him engaged in some heavy-duty internet shopping, I got this:
Admittedly, the model is 5'10" and has 34 inch hips (In the spirit of full disclosure, the store's website says so) but if this arrives in time and it fits, I am going to show up in Las Vegas in an outfit that glows in the dark!
And with that taken care of, let the worrying about real things begin!