Home again
Friday spent most of the day reading subs and writing a 'zine for an APA I'm in. In the evening, went and had dinner with a bunch of cool Seattle/Tacoma-area sf writers—Nisi, Ted, David M, Brenda, Johnzo & Victoria, Mike C (whom I hadn't previously met in person), Amy H (and her husband John). (We've published five of those people; perhaps one day we'll get a chance to publish the rest.) Was very nice to see everyone; much conversation and general silliness. Various other folks including Greg and Bluejack and Jay and Deborah and Aynjel couldn't make it, alas. We ate at Ayutthaya, which turned out to be excellent. (I was sad to hear that the Garlic Tree, formerly one of my favorite Seattle restaurants, is no more.) Later, half of us went and hung out at a nearby café; I forget the name, but it had a Punchinello/Commedia dell'arte theme to its decor, or so I gathered from a quick glance at some of the labels. Sadly, I didn't think to take a group photo 'til after several people went home.
Saturday I went to Grandma's birthday mini-party in Tacoma; maybe a dozen family members and a few friends of the family, sitting around chatting for a few hours. Later, we met an old friend of the family, one of the Benedictine Sisters of St. Placid Priory, and she told us about how she became a nun; a fascinating story. She left; Grandma and Holly and Jay and I played some pinochle; then we went to dinner at East & West Cafe, my favorite restaurant in Tacoma. At the end of the meal, our waitress went around to all the other tables that were still occupied and told them that Grandma was 97 years old and led the whole room in a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday"; then Grandma blew out the candles that Holly had thoughtfully brought along, which the restaurant had stuck into some ice cream. By the end of the evening, Grandma had been socializing for nine or ten hours straight, and she was still cheerful and energetic. Her hearing isn't as good as it once was, and she needs some help walking up and down slippery stone steps, but she's in remarkably good shape, both mentally and physically; I'll be happy if I'm doing half as well by the time I'm 97.
This morning I got up and hung out with Grandma and a friend of hers for a while, then with Grandma and Jay and Holly for a while (our father has been horribly sick all weekend, unfortunately), then up to Seattle for brunch with Ellie and John P and two-year-old Rose; got to see Debby for a little while when she got home. Spent a while longer hanging out with Ellie, then off to the airport; and one unremarkable plane ride later, here I am at home, finishing up the week's submission reading.
Ellie and I stopped by the little bookstore near her place where she wants me to do a reading from the zeppelin book. I realized moments after stepping inside that I'm just not comfortable with the whole idea—if a bunch of the zeppelin authors lived in Seattle, it might be fun, but I wouldn't want to be the only person reading, not when what I'd be reading from is an anthology containing only one story of mine. (It might be a little different if I had a collection. But even so, I know how poorly attended readings generally are; I might be able to get half a dozen friends to come, but I'd feel silly doing it.)
I considered stopping by the Clarion West meeting this afternoon, just to surprise people (and to hear Timmi Duchamp read); unfortunately, the timing was just too tight. I would've arrived around 3:15 and would've had to leave half an hour later; just didn't seem worth it.
What else? Not sure. I took some notes for my still-forthcoming survey of Macintosh OS X word processors; I read a couple stories from the latest issue of Asimov's (which appears to be the casual-mentions-of-homosexuality issue, at least so far); I continued reading The Book of Atrix Wolfe; I have a lot of email awaiting responses.
And on that note, I think I'll bid you fondue for the nonce. More soon, indubitably.
