Thankfully, I did not come off as the complete moron I thought I would; either I was not the mumbling, mentally fumbling fool I thought I was, or Mary Lou Wilson has the ability to write around the verbal hiccups of the people she interviews.

Max's article turned out to be more than just a little blurb buried in the back of the paper, which would have been plenty and I would have gotten a huge kick out of even a tiny mention in print; his picture was on the front page of The Reporter, in the upper right corner, and the article was page one of the Perspectives section, spilling onto page three.

I am going to embrace my inner dork, and wander out to buy a couple more copies of the paper, and then I'm going over to Border's, where I will sit with my laptop and work on Max's latest book...obviously my lot in life is to ride his coat tails, so I better help him get this thing finished.

Yep, I know my place.

(And yep, the article thrills me in a dorky, 12 year old, LOOK! kind of way...)

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