I'm visiting family in the Dallas area, and enjoying the warm weather, although, MERCY, I had forgotten about Texas allergies. I'm all croaky. (Which is fine, actually. It just means that instead of sounding like a ten-year-old GIRL, I sound like a ten-year-old BOY.)
Anyway, I'm in town and planning on being at The Original Pancake House at 2301 N. Central Expwy., Suite 156 Plano, Texas 75075, 972-423-2889 tomorrow at 11:00 AM. Send me a note if you can come, or leave a comment here!
It's very last minute, but I didn't want to miss a chance to meet some of my peeps. I hope y'all can come. I have one copy of my book and we can do rock/paper/scissors or something if more than one of you wants it.
Yesterday I had a chance to meet a new friend, Tony Fiorillo (whom I "met" when I interviewed him for my latest freelance article on polar dinosaurs.) He's one of the world's foremost paleontologists, and the best source ever for information and memorable quotes about the exciting dinosaur finds in Alaska. He's also a really nice person, and instead of getting a restraining order after I emailed him, oh, seven million times in the course of my research for the piece, he STILL said yes to lunch. (And then he arranged for it to be 77 degrees in Dallas in January so we could sit outside.)
He also let me actually touch some dinosaur bones.
It was one of the coolest experiences of my life. At one point, I was holding part of the beak/nose of a Pachyrhinosauraus that was at least 65 million years old.
Sixty-five MILLION years old!
It was the strangest feeling--like suddenly discovering your family tree dates back millions of years. It kind of puts our human existence into perspective, you know? I was sitting on a ball earlier today and I thought, "This is totally annoying, but I doubt it will be important in 65 million years."
So, remember in 2008 when I wrote about how my mom and stepdad had gotten married after 27 years of dating? Tomorrow it will be 31 years since their first date, and since my sister and I tried to file a missing person's report. We called everyone even remotely associated with my mother, prompting my soon-to-be (twenty-seven years later) stepfather to issue a tongue-in-cheek official memorandum absolving himself of anything other than the purest motives in taking my mom to museum in Fort Worth.
I should have known when the embarrassment didn't faze him in the least that he was good people. I'm so grateful to have him in my life.