... and even so I have cleaned myself and the bathroom and kitchen. But I'm flagging. I may need to go acquire beans. The problem with being the only coffee drinker in the house is that I cannot twist someone else's arm to go out and get coffee for me. Life is hard.
I always seem to remember to post these things at the last minute (which is today) but:
I'll be at Fogcon this weekend, a lovely small lit-focussed convention held in the Bay Area (and accessible by BART, which I intend to prove this afternoon). Excellent people (this year's Guest of Honor is Delia Sherman) If you happen to be in the neighborhood, I'll be doing a two panels and a reading, as follows:
Friday, 8pm: Writing Between Genres Are you writing a book that is both science fiction and fantasy? Do you have a an idea for a story which is both a romance and a crime thriller? What happens if your book is not easily categorizable, neither fish nor fowl? Can it get published, or is it doomed to fall through the cracks? This panel will discuss how to succeed cross-genre, and how to market the interstitial nature of your work as a selling point, not a problem needing solving.
Friday, 9pm: Reading with Laura Blackwell, Garrett Calcaterra, Nancy Jane Moore, and me. I will read my new collaboration with my daughter Becca. What could go wrong?
Saturday, 8pm: Between the Pixie and the Crone, with Emily Jiang, JK, Ellen Klages, and. All about middle aged women--"the invisible infrastructure" in SF. Really looking forward to this one.
If you're there, come say Hi. If you're not... well, come some time. It really is a nice con.
It's like someone up there is trying to prove a point about, like, climate irascibility: already today before noon: bright sunshine, brief downpour, sunshine, sprinkle, sunshine, and, then, just now: Hail.
I'm not even going to ask WTF. I know we've needed the rain, but no where is it written that we need the hail.
A year ago we were not flushing the toilets until the need was dire, and under-washing the dishes, and never mind watering the yard (which we're really good at; I can never-mind-the-yard like nobody's business). We were grateful for any drop of water falling from the sky. Emily had forgotten that this was a thing (well, she's a dog; the amount of memory she expends on rain is minimal at best).
Today it is pouring down buckets, as it has been doing, intermittently, since November. I will get out my rain boots and go forth to work. But I gotta say that even the California mantra "But we need the rain" is, by this time, to this non-Californian, ringing a touch hollow.
Yes, I did the San Francisco Women's March yesterday. It was great: pouring rain most of the time, initially so crowded that we could not move (if Danny had been there he'd have been subvocalizing "moooooo"), but so charged with good will, kindness, and the will to work to make the nation its best self. I did not have a pussy hat; I didn't have a sign (I'd come straight from work), but it didn't matter.
This has been a challenging year, but this morning we gathered--two daughters, one-soon-to-be-son-in-law, one dog, Danny and I--to eat doughnuts, open stockings, and then presents. In honor of Julie's songwriting talents (see below) Julie got artichokes in her stocking; Becca got avocados, and Joe got a stalk of Brussels sprouts. I love my family.
Whether this is your holiday or not, may your day be peaceful and sunny, your health good, your toes warm and your home full of delicious smells and more-delicious foods. May the year ahead exceed your hopes for health and good work.
And Julie's pre-op Artichokes for Christmas carol:
Yesterday was the last day of Dickens Fair, and I went off to do my sewing thing. But because it was Sunday, and Julie's sweetie Joe holds "Cockney Church" on Sundays, after I got things set up I toddled down to Mad Sal's Ale House to watch the fun. The last day there is a Nativity scene (including a large man playing the baby Jesus in a union suit and...a kilt?) and much song, interspersed with Joe's lovely, highly researched by totally goofy homilies on texts from the Bible.
Here, for example, is the Nativity, with Julie dead center, playing a slightly crazed Virgin Mary:
What I wasn't expecting was for one of the homilies (read by Mad Sal herself) to turn into Joe's proposal of Marriage to Julie. RIght there in front of the audience--and The Guv 'imself, Dad (God). It was wonderful. Not a dry eye in the house.
And I understand that Julie was so overwhelmed with joy that she got sick after the fair and puked in the car driving back to Davis. Joe cannot say he doesn't know what/who he's getting. Me, I'm waiting for the video to show it to Danny.
This has been a tough week. In addition to Julie's surgical adventures, we lost Danny's lovely father, Emil Caccavo. It's hard to sum Emil up in a sentence or two: he was funny, passionate about social justice, a teacher, an entrepreneur (he always had a terrific idea for a new scheme). He was a father and a husband, loved by his family, and damned near everyone who knew him. The kind of guy who'd flirt with the waitress just enough to embarrass his kids.
He was 99 1/2, and the end was a long, gentle decline rather than an abrupt or traumatic stop. He'll be deeply missed--but he left the world a better place whan he found it, and not everyone can say that.
