Folks! This is how I feel today. I just met the lovely Stephen Fry at the wonderful Idlewild Books whereupon he signed not only my copy of Fry in America, but also my old, beat up copy of his autobiography, Moab Is My Washpot.

I, of course, acted far less like the suave, sophisticated New Yorker I know I am and a lot more like a pre-teen girl meeting the Jonas Brothers. They’re still a thing, right?

(I can’t recommend his books/audio books/tv shows/movies highly enough. The man is a genius! And affable to boot!)