The Minneapa 400 Collation
Jan. 20th, 2003 02:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanThe original subject of this entry was "First Day of Not Having to Cook," which explains the first paragraph but not the rest of it. So I changed the subject. I am better at editing than at writing, mostly, insofar as those functions can be separated when one is referring only to one's own work.
I feel like refusing to do anything productive at all, but I think I can resist that. It's fairly liberating, however. I keep feeling the pressure of that "must start dinner" or "must figure out what to make for dinner" deadline and then its removal. Whee. It's probably a good thing I never had kids. They are not as self-sufficient as housemates.
I had a good time at the Minn-Stf meeting. I really need to get to more of them. I felt bad a couple of times for doing no work at all towards cleaning or organizing, but on the whole that worked fine for me. I did get the laundry done that I told Lydy I'd so the cover for the daybed in the media room would be, if not free of cat hair, at least full of cat hair that had gone through the washer with anti-allergen detergent. I washed it twice, actually, but I forgot to get dryer sheets, so a lot of the cat hair was still there on the day.
A vast number of people came to the Minicon 400 collation. My mother called to wish me a happy birthday just on the dot of 3:30, which was the time scheduled for the group photo, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't actually be taken then, and I was right. Before the photo, I talked to Minnehahas K and B, who had brought a bottle of burgundy since it was my birthday. I had about two swallows of it. I don't normally drink in the afternoon and I wouldn't be there in the evening, so that was my compromise. It was an amazing wine, and I'm not sure I actually needed any more than I got. It had a lot of character. K was bearing up very well after oral surgery the day before, though I did occasionally wish I had some magical opiate to offer.
I got to talk to David Cargo -- who brought a plate of pumpkin bars that were snarfed up so fast I don't even know what shape they were, though I ate a crumb, which was delicious. I talked to Carol Kennedy and her daughter Rachel. Carol asked Rachel to guess my age, and then Rachel made me guess hers. I said fifteen, which pleased Rachel and alarmed Carol. (Rachel is twelve.) I told Carol that it was mostly Rachel's address that made me say she was that old, and then we had to explain what "address" meant in that context.
I talked to Judy Rosenberg about her and her father's T-shirt with Slovotsky's Laws on the back, and a little about movies. Talk about address, she's smart and sharp and in some ways more informed than I am; it was a pleasure to talk to her. I had shorter conversations with other people -- Reen, Fred, Eileen, Laurel.
Eventually a somewhat harried David got us herded together for the photograph. He had taken one shot when Joyce and Richard came in, almost simultaneously; so they got added to the picture. Poor Richard had to kneel on the hardwood floor while not knocking down the tripod the lighting was on. Various other people were complaining a bit about having to stay in one pose for so long, and Geri Sullivan exclaimed plaintively, "You know, we used to be younger," which got a kind of nostalgic laugh. Joel Rosenberg valiantly offered to press the button on the camera so David didn't have to depend on the ten-second delay to get himself into the picture; this worked eventually, but apparently pushing a button on the camera is harder to do right than it appears. (I'm sure I'd have messed it up myself.)
Around five-thirty it got so crowded I had to go upstairs. It was a pity -- every new face I saw was of somebody I was happy to see, but there were too many of them. I encountered Eileen sitting on the front stairs reading her Minneapa. "Hi," she said. "I'm just taking a decompression break." An ideal party house, I realized, would have lots of far more comfortable spaces for that to happen in. Upstairs I pottered for a bit, then called Eric about when and where we wanted to have dinner. Then I routed Raphael out of zir study where zie was peacefully working and gave zir a backrub. We had some conversation, and I packed my knapsack and looked up bus schedules and went downstairs to put on my boots. Things had cleared out a lot as people went to dinner. Lydy was building a fire and David, looking less harried, was lighting candles. My partying stamina is way down, I fear. It all looked very appealing, for some other day. I hugged David and said goodbye and went off to get my bus.
Pamela
I feel like refusing to do anything productive at all, but I think I can resist that. It's fairly liberating, however. I keep feeling the pressure of that "must start dinner" or "must figure out what to make for dinner" deadline and then its removal. Whee. It's probably a good thing I never had kids. They are not as self-sufficient as housemates.
I had a good time at the Minn-Stf meeting. I really need to get to more of them. I felt bad a couple of times for doing no work at all towards cleaning or organizing, but on the whole that worked fine for me. I did get the laundry done that I told Lydy I'd so the cover for the daybed in the media room would be, if not free of cat hair, at least full of cat hair that had gone through the washer with anti-allergen detergent. I washed it twice, actually, but I forgot to get dryer sheets, so a lot of the cat hair was still there on the day.
A vast number of people came to the Minicon 400 collation. My mother called to wish me a happy birthday just on the dot of 3:30, which was the time scheduled for the group photo, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't actually be taken then, and I was right. Before the photo, I talked to Minnehahas K and B, who had brought a bottle of burgundy since it was my birthday. I had about two swallows of it. I don't normally drink in the afternoon and I wouldn't be there in the evening, so that was my compromise. It was an amazing wine, and I'm not sure I actually needed any more than I got. It had a lot of character. K was bearing up very well after oral surgery the day before, though I did occasionally wish I had some magical opiate to offer.
I got to talk to David Cargo -- who brought a plate of pumpkin bars that were snarfed up so fast I don't even know what shape they were, though I ate a crumb, which was delicious. I talked to Carol Kennedy and her daughter Rachel. Carol asked Rachel to guess my age, and then Rachel made me guess hers. I said fifteen, which pleased Rachel and alarmed Carol. (Rachel is twelve.) I told Carol that it was mostly Rachel's address that made me say she was that old, and then we had to explain what "address" meant in that context.
I talked to Judy Rosenberg about her and her father's T-shirt with Slovotsky's Laws on the back, and a little about movies. Talk about address, she's smart and sharp and in some ways more informed than I am; it was a pleasure to talk to her. I had shorter conversations with other people -- Reen, Fred, Eileen, Laurel.
Eventually a somewhat harried David got us herded together for the photograph. He had taken one shot when Joyce and Richard came in, almost simultaneously; so they got added to the picture. Poor Richard had to kneel on the hardwood floor while not knocking down the tripod the lighting was on. Various other people were complaining a bit about having to stay in one pose for so long, and Geri Sullivan exclaimed plaintively, "You know, we used to be younger," which got a kind of nostalgic laugh. Joel Rosenberg valiantly offered to press the button on the camera so David didn't have to depend on the ten-second delay to get himself into the picture; this worked eventually, but apparently pushing a button on the camera is harder to do right than it appears. (I'm sure I'd have messed it up myself.)
Around five-thirty it got so crowded I had to go upstairs. It was a pity -- every new face I saw was of somebody I was happy to see, but there were too many of them. I encountered Eileen sitting on the front stairs reading her Minneapa. "Hi," she said. "I'm just taking a decompression break." An ideal party house, I realized, would have lots of far more comfortable spaces for that to happen in. Upstairs I pottered for a bit, then called Eric about when and where we wanted to have dinner. Then I routed Raphael out of zir study where zie was peacefully working and gave zir a backrub. We had some conversation, and I packed my knapsack and looked up bus schedules and went downstairs to put on my boots. Things had cleared out a lot as people went to dinner. Lydy was building a fire and David, looking less harried, was lighting candles. My partying stamina is way down, I fear. It all looked very appealing, for some other day. I hugged David and said goodbye and went off to get my bus.
Pamela
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no subject
I hope you're doing well. Say hello to David, Raphael, and anyone else in Minneapolis who might remember me.
no subject
Date: 2003-01-21 10:02 am (UTC)I am amazed at the ages of my friends' kids, but that hasn't got quite the same visceral kick. I'm glad yours are reading. They can even hate my books if they want to.
The trilogy will be reprinted in fall of 2003 -- oh, this year now. It'll be issued as it was originally was, as three separate books, but with thematically linked covers. I was originally told that all three books would come out at the same time, but it seems that that could be fairly hard on the artist, so the first two may come out in the fall list and the last one in whatever the next list is. This still beats the delays provided by Ace in their reluctance to do, well, anything at all with WHIM.
Pamela
Our kids are getting older, so I guess we must be too.
Date: 2003-01-23 10:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-01-21 01:47 pm (UTC)B
no subject
Date: 2003-01-22 12:17 pm (UTC)In fact, I'm glad I made it in time for the photograph - which I think came out well.
Enjoy your time off from menu planning, Pam.