"You and your book are in the news! See page 11. Congratulations." said the email from the PR people.
"Wait is that you?" Gail asked a week later on our regular morning walk as she pointed to the rolled-up paper on the concrete.
In unison, we both bent over and peered closely.
There I was cropped into a two-inch square below cover art of a DJ and his orange space man robot thing.
Me and the French boutique and the interim Episcopal CEO in a banner across the bottom.
We laughed.
She took a picture.
She took another photo.
Yep, me again.
On the concrete.
Untouched.
Even the chalk-drawing kids in the neighborhood got in on the action.
I finally acquiesced, picked up a copy, and took it home for a look.
The worst part - I'm even more rumpled and wrinkled than ever...