Today the penultimate episode of Whitehall comes out. It's also the last of the episodes written by me. And I'm kind of pleased with it. Just so you know.
ICFA was lovely--although going from FogCon one weekend to ICFA, barely three days later, meant that I was a little soggy and hard to light. Punked out, overwhelmed by Being Social, most evenings by 10. Even with Becca there, we sort of folded around 9:30, came upstairs, and nattered until the kid fell over (I outlasted a 20 year old. Behold, I am puissant!). But: I saw many people I really like, and hung out with same. Didn't see as much of other people I really like, and am sad for it. Did a really good panel on publishing (publishing panels can be everyone Viewing With Alarm, or a whole lotta inside baseball, or sometimes they die the death. This one did none of these things, and I hope was useful to the people who came to see it. At 8:30 on a Saturday morning.
Spent Sunday day doing weird Becca errands (searching for tarot cards and crystals, eating vegan food, and getting her laptop fixed. Also: playing Skeeball and air hockey (they had a Pac-Man variant of air hockey that just about killed me: you're going along merrily shuffling the puck back and forth, and then suddenly there are dozens of pucks all over the place, and confusion reigns. I wonder how many heart attacks occur at that table). That was lovely. And then, just about the time Bec headed back to Sarasota, my old high school friend Shellie, who lives within driving distance, came down, and we ate dinner and talked about everything, in that way that two people who haven't been face to face for 40 years do. And laughed a whole lot. Then I got to hang out in the hot tub with Rachel and Mike Swirsky and Karen Burnham, talking about stuff, and that was swell, too.
And today is transit all the livelong day: airport by 9, flight by 11:30 (got there early because I was expecting security to be a nightmare, but TSA-Pre got me through in record time), in to O'Hare by 1:20... and then my 4:00 flight to San Francisco was delayed by rain at SFO. So now, later than it ought to be, I am on board a big old jet airliner on which the movie server has punked out. So I come here to you, LJ, to lick my wounds.
How was your weekend?