by Mrs. Chicken on February 7, 2010
I’m sitting at the Opryland Hotel and Resort in Nashville.
It’s Sunday, and everything is closed. All the bloggers have gone home. My new friend is in an airport in Ohio. The lovely ladies who ferried me here by car should be more than halfway back to Chambana now.
I am sitting at a metal table, one eye on my anemic laptop battery and one on the clock. In a few hours a driver will call me and I will gather my luggage for a trip to the airport.
From there I will get on a jet-plane and land at LAX around 8 p.m. California time. Tomorrow, at 8:45 a.m., I’ll get prepped for an appearance on a national talk show prompted by something I wrote about something that someone else wrote. [click to continue…]
by Mrs. Chicken on February 3, 2010
In about 11 hours I’ll be on the road to Nashville.
I’d planned to come back home to Chambana the same way I left: In the car, with two of my pals. Instead, sometime on Sunday I’ll board a plane for Los Angeles.
A little ditty I wrote up over here in about 30 minutes last week caught the attention of some TV talk-show producers and they looked me up.
Today I spent a half-hour answering questions fired at me from an assistant producer for the Dr. Phil Show while I had my toes painted for Blissdom. Before we hung up, I took a deep breath and asked:
“OK, so here’s the deal,” I said. “I need to know if I’m coming out there or not. I need to pack and I need to arrange child care.”
He told me to pack as if I was going to LA — like a “good Girl Scout” — and he’d get back to me. Fifteen minutes later, he called back.
Sunday, I’ll land at LAX and make my way to an as-yet-decided-on hotel and my mom will meet me out there. The next day, we’ll be backstage. And then, I will be on stage.
To say I am freaking out is to say that Madonna has had a little work done on her face. I am FREAKING RIGHT THE FUCK OUT, PEOPLE.
And I can’t even think about that, because tonight I am too busy feeling tremendously sad that I am going to be away from my babies for five days. I’ve never been away from Henry at all, and only overnight from the girl.
It is so ridiculous — even as I shopped for a dress today, I felt like an imposter as the words came out of my mouth:
Why are you shopping today? How can we help you?
Ummm, I need something to wear on Dr. Phil?
Ludicrous! I don’t know how this happened to me. All I know is that it happened really, really fast. I just hope I don’t get whiplash.
