One of my three favorite living writers is at a book festival this weekend in Tucson, doing readings and signings, and playing music with his wife. Tucson is about six hours from me. If I had left this morning, like I seriously thought about doing, I'd be past halfway there by now.
I've seen my other two favorites within the last six months, both at the same bookstore, so I was thinking it would be really cool to get to see all three within the same year. But alas, I did not go. And I guess that's ok. I don't know what else I'd do by myself in Tucson all weekend, anyway.
But don't think I won't be thinking about it, in the back of my mind.
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