So, I got up this morning and pulled on my dirtiest clothes and proceeded to collect all our trash and recycling and load it out to the car. There were some old fluorescent light fixtures that used to hang in the workshop that is now our den that I have been wanting to take to the dump but kept forgetting that I finally remembered, so I dragged those out of the basement and shoved those into the car. And one last piece of the old shower that used to be in what will someday be our library jumped into my memory, so out to the car it went as well. My hands were filthy and my clothes filthier. No matter. I'm going to the dump.
I go to the dump and no one was there. Well, Alvin, the old guy who runs the dump was there but he was in his shed with the door closed. Alvin gave me a photo once of he and one of the girls that grew up in this house, kissing him in front of his old car parked in front of the garage that was torn down just before we bought the house. Everyone has some connection to this house. Anyway. I digress, as I do.
On the way back to the house, I pass Elise who is gardening this public triangle out in front of The Southfield Store, so I stop and visit. As we're visiting, Miriam, one of the gals who does pastry at the store comes out and says "Guess who's inside! Guess who's inside!" My mind races. Martha Stewart comes to mind, but then maybe it's Bill Clinton or Jake Gyllenhaal. "Ina Garten!"
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I LOVE INA GARTEN! THE BAREFOOT CONTESSA! What do I do, what do I do? I HAVEN'T EVEN BRUSHED MY TEETH! Is my hair messed up? What hair I have. Maybe she'll autograph one of my cookbooks. I have all of hers, after all. Which one to bring!!!! I go inside, but I can't even look at her. I walk passed her table and recognize Jeffery, her husband. I talk to Andrew, the store manager, who tells me that he has told her that we, the store, uses her french toast recipe, which we do because I started it! What do I do? Elise says she's going to tell her that her biggest fan has just ran home to get a cookbook for her to autograph, so off I go.
I get home and excitedly tell Tom who's at the store, brush my teeth, check to make sure what hair I have isn't pressed down in weird patterns because of sleeping on it, grab the cookbook with the french toast recipe in it and fly back to the store. I walk in and one of her friends sticks out her arms, presenting Ina. Ina reaches out her hand to introduce herself and I take it. "And this is Jeffery", she says. "Oh, I know Jeffery", I respond, and everyone laughs.
I ask for her autograph and she graciously obliges and I ask if I could have a photo and she nearly has a heart attack. She wasn't filthy like I was, but she wasn't wearing a stitch of make-up and was dressed in an old track suit. But she obliged. She looked at me and said "This is a private photo isn't it? It's not ending up on YouTube or anything, is it?" Of course not. So, as I type this, I've decided that if you want to see the photo, you'll just have to come visit, but here's her AUTHOGRAPH!