When you wake up in the morning you never know what the day will hold. I never expected that I would answer my cell phone while I was driving down the freeway and hear my editor say, “Would you like to interview Anthony Hopkins?”
“Of course I would,” I shrieked into the phone. “He’s a legend, an icon.”
“Then you have to be at such-and-such art gallery tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. They’re exhibiting his paintings and he’s making a personal appearance.”
Tomorrow! Excitement and fear flooded my body as I remembered how much the 1991 film, Silence of the Lambs truly terrified me. The coming attractions, as well as the trailers that were played over and over again of the psycho-genius, cannibalistic, serial killer who enjoyed eating his victims’ liver with some “fava beans and a nice Chianti,” were so convincing that on the way to the theater, I started crying and hyperventilating, telling my confused husband that I wanted to turn around and go home.