List of Intentions

[pameladean]

Things I would write about for LJ if I were not wrestling with Chapter 3 (site of the largest continuity error in the history of my writing):

Minicon. I was much more enthusiastic about Minicon than I have been for several years. That was useful, because Mike's absence was very much felt, and because I had to leave on Sunday afternoon to go home and rest up before embarking on a trip to visit Eric. I missed almost all of the programmed music, and the Tor party, to my huge regret, but I did get to attend lollardfish and buttonlass's party on Friday. dd_b and I were fortunate enough to get to eat dinner with tnh, pnh, carbonel, and Jonathan, who is not on LJ. We also had a goofy and giggly dinner with Cally who is not etc. and Ctein, ditto, on Thursday night, agreeing that it felt like a Sunday-evening conversation. I very much enjoyed the panel that Teresa moderated, "Gatekeeping, SF, and the Literary Canon." marykaykare did a good job of moderating "The Musician and Artist as Protagonist," but we panelists were a little uneven, perhaps. I had fun too at my third panel, "Writing for the Young Adult," moderated by cowfan, perhaps largely because of the Jane-and-Adam show. I managed to disgrace myself at my reading by running fifteen minutes into Laurel Winter's time slot. She sat there and let me do it, but fortunately there was nothing scheduled after her, so she was able to have her full half-hour. I stayed with eileenlufkin to hear Laurel read from a lovely, quirky, funny, creepy book called "Lucy, Lucy, and Liz." I'd buy it. The LJ party, kindly hosted by cakmpls, was amply supplied with food, as always, and full of interesting people. I wasn't one of them, being extremely sleepy by then, but it was a pleasant space to be sleepy in.

The trip to California. E had a lot of work to do, so we did not wander about less lonely than clouds for most of our days together, as is our wont. We were more sociable than usual, having lunch and a trip to The Other Change of Hobbit with Shweta and Amanda and Adam, none of whom is on LJ as far as I know; and dinner with wild_irises, alanbostick, brooksmoses, wordweaverlynn, davidgoldfarb, and Aahz, who is not on LJ. I was sorry that a handful of other folks were unable to make it, but we had a pleasant time. Eric and I also went to Edgewood, a county park, and climbed up to a ridge to see the serpentine wildflowers. They were breathtakingly tiny for the most part, but altogether fine. It was very windy the whole time I was there, but the trip to Edgewood was the one most enhanced by the wind. The flowers were in fields of short grass, and the wind rippled them until they looked like waves on water, and the sunlight ran behind the wind. We made a visit to the Native Plants Botanic Garden at Tilden Park, where among many other beauties, Eric showed me the leaves of the slink pod, which are spotted like trout-lily leaves in Minnesota. We also paid a brief visit to the top of Mount San Bruno. This mountain looks treeless and green, rather as I had always thought the Barrowdowns might, aside from the incidental presence of a bunch of radio towers. But it was touted as a good place for spring wildflowers. It was bursting with shrubbery and, as advertised, with flowers. I haven't identified them yet, but they were plentiful. There were grand views, as well. On the same day as the trip to Mount San Bruno, we made an impromptu trip to the coast and ended up at Port Funston, watching hang-gliders take off and land, and watching them drift among the courting ravens. There were more good views. After that we had dinner in San Francisco, Eric having decided that I deserved a vegetarian restaurant. We parked high up and walked down to The Herbivore, and afterwards, happily nourished, walked (not without some groaning on my part) up to and past the car, right up to the top of 21st Street where it crosses Sanchez, if I recall correctly. We wandered, greatly content, around the few blocks of flatness at the top of the hill, admiring houses, gardens, and the view, and being intermittently snarky about rich people.

Spring. It hath sprung. The white-throated sparrows are singing their heads off. I only hope that this year we will all be spared the obligatory cat-killed corpse. House finches, robins, cardinals, are all singing, and house finches have their fancy plumage on. The rabbits are eating my crocuses. They do not do this in such a way that I simply think the crocuses have not come up. No. Sometimes they gnaw the leaves before there are buds, and more often they let the crocuses bloom and then chomp the entire plant down to the ground. They are partial to the dark-gold ones. They have also been at the tulips, but only the purple ones. Lots of stuff is up: peonies, bleeding heart, wild geranium, the anemone I can't recall the name of, the very first bits of lily here and there, tulips, lilies-of-the-valley, violets, hairy bellflower, dame's rocket, echinacea, cranesbill geranium, daffodils, tradescantia, scilla. The scilla is blooming abundantly. The white rose of York has leaflets. The Henry Kelsey looks dead. It often does at about this time, being a northern rose that is not fooled by April caprices. But I'm a little concerned about it. We have chives too, and hens and chicks (courtesy of Lydy), and sage that never quite died back.

I apologize for the lack of cuts. I am too tired to do them.

Blessings upon you all,
Pamela