So, once again after no effective sleep, I did wake up at just past seven in the bloody morning. I tried, so very hard did I try, to lay back down and get more sleep, but it never showed up for longer than ten minutes at a time.

But I showered, nibbled at the breakfast, and found out that of all things I put in my name for I did manage to get one, which I ended up feeling really bad about because I had to leave halfway through, and if I'd spent more than two seconds of thought on it I would have sacrificed my seat to one of the follow-ups.

By this point I was getting dizzy when standing still and in generally poor health, so for the Thieves' Guild meeting I just stood at the door and tried not to fall over while shooing away those we hadn't had room for. The poor bastard who'd volunteered me got to do all the falling down and being mugged, and he was nearly as wiped out as I was. But he did get his certificate as head of the North American chapter, which he plans to frame and hang on his cubicle at work, which is in the fraud prevention division of a bank.

I barely managed to make it to the Editing Discworld panel, and I really wish my hands hadn't been shaking so much because I would have liked better pictures. Anne Hoppe was smiling as she talked about her favorite books she's worked on, and there was mention that the man prefers to work with children's book editors because they are significantly less intimidated by a big name and far more determined to do their job right. There was talk of other things as well, but most of my attention was on leaning against the wall without falling and trying very hard not to be irritated by the sounds of cell phones. Is it that freaking hard to turn the sound off when you know you're going to be in a room of people straining to hear every word?

Later came a special treat; a Skype chat with Sir Terry himself, answering questions from the audience. It was just fantastic, even if I did get many things in my eye. Rob was in the background making some of the best jokes, and the only thing that could have been better is if there had been more of it.

After that I helped some friends get ready for the Gala Banquet, and I got to play with someone else's hair, which is something I have not done in forever. A wonderful storm was blowing in around then, and it was the only thing in Baltimore that I considered truly impressive. Unfortunately, it did not last much past the Gala itself, but it was enough to cool things down to the point where it was comfortable.

I probably would have enjoyed the whole event more if I'd actually been rested. The food was fantastic, just fantastic, but once again I found the entertainment to be... well, just not my thing. There was a Cirque-du-Soleil style act with a length of cloth dropped from a high support and a bendy girl, but considering my profession I've seen a lot of bendy girls. This one wasn't bad, but, well, it just felt like being at work. I clapped along to be polite, but more and more I was feeling like a cranky toddler who needed a nap. Then came some truly awful puns, and then a man with a box of props came out. I didn't last long, I'm afraid, but I didn't want my crankiness to spread to people who were otherwise enjoying themselves. Although according to my friends, I should have stuck around for a bit, as the man's skit ended with a rail spike up his nose, but overall I feel I did the right thing.

Then I did what I really probably shouldn't have done, but it was my last night there and I still had booze to dispose of. I did more mingling and chatting and made sure there was no booze left to dispose of and got into another argument with my ranty friend and was up until past five because there is absolutely no way that anyone will ever convince me that the Catholic church can be a force for good in the world. Yeah. That was dumb of me. Especially since I managed to sleep until about ten till seven and was extremely irritable in the morning. That was the point where I decided to call it and we packed up the room and got our last minute hugs and checked out.

I do wish I'd been able to rest better, as I wanted to see the musical act and the closing ceremony. But I was just absolutely useless at that point. I spent most of the ride home dozing in the seat only to flop onto my bed and pass out for twelve straight hours the moment I got home, shortly after which I took a five hour nap, followed by another ten hours of sleep. My animals missed me, and I'm wondering if my lack of sleep was due to their absence.

But it was fun. Totally worth what I put me through. And I can't wait for the next one.

Day two started at seven in the morning. I was never able to sleep past seven the whole time we were there.

The system for many of the events involved putting a small ticket with your name printed on it into a box for a random lottery drawing. I did not get my name drawn for a single event, which in a way was useful as it gave me more time for recovery, which I later wasted by getting far more drunk than I should have, especially considering it was another hundred degree day. But I did my morning volunteer hour, then promptly went and unvolunteered myself with no hard feelings and a standing invite to the afterparty.

The Theives' Guild event was fun, as this time I got to do the mugging and not fall down, but I spent most of my time by the door shooing people away after we got to full seats and a wall of people on one side of the room. People were still trying to get in even when it was ten minutes to the end.

Then there was time spent outside but at least in the shade at the pub where Bernard went to speak. He is really an amazing storyteller. Many entertaining stories of his time as a constable in an extremely small town, and also of his days crafting wonderful things with Sir Terry. Even a few absolutely tearjerking stories about time spent with Sir Terry's mother. I was also able to get a rather tasty plate of chicken tenders, which was much nicer on the tummy than the rest of the menu would have been.

The rest of the day was mostly focused on taking pictures of people getting ready for the Maskerade, followed by time in a wonderfully air-conditioned alcove in the hotel bar. It was so hot that I even tried to step into the pool, but pretty much all the kids and their parents had all had the same idea, so that didn't last long, and the air conditioning was blissful. The alcove was also nicely secluded, which meant it was easier to hear friends talking when they came down to join.

I made the mistake of taking a serious visit to the dealer's room, and after getting a few con trinkets, some presents for other people and a visit to the signed books table, my spending money was pretty much wiped out. I had a bit left, but only a bit, and I was very glad I had budgeted seperately for food and booze money. Of course, I had the better half of two bottles in my room to kill off, and the last thing I wanted to do was try to drive home with an open container in the car.

I didn't see much of the Maskerade, but I did see some wonderful pictures taken by other people, and then there was mingling and drinking and lots of hugs and more stories and then it was past three in the morning yet again.

So the first day dawned after far too little sleep. This would prove to be a recurring trend.

I made the mistake of volunteering. This is not a mistake I will be repeating. Not to say that volunteering isn't good for what it is, but I missed nearly everything that I wanted to see that day because I was doing hour-long blocks in other parts of the hotel and couldn't teleport to the door fast enough.

I did get to the Thieves' Guild events, and that was epic. For the first day my other two friends who'd signed up for the show as well hadn't quite made it, so I got to stand in front of the group and get play-mugged and went over the finer points of receipt leaving. It was grand fun, but my nerves were so tightly strung that when I tried to meet the group in the bar later my hands shook so badly I slopped half of my overpriced shot on the bar when I picked it up.

Then there was more running around and volunteering, and finally friends did arrive, and then there was smoking and catching up and running around and volunteering, all in nearly a hundred degree weather. The opening ceremony was wonderful, if shorter than everybody would have liked, and then I got changed for the Bedtime Stories event, in which a Skype meeting with Rob Wilkins had been arranged so that the guests could hear the first thirty pages of the new book, Raising Steam. I had volunteered to be security for the reading, which consisted of walking around quietly and making sure nobody was recording anything. I am pleased to report that everyone was well behaved and the new book is going to be fucking awesome.

The only truly annoying thing about the event was that I got more compliments on my Batman pyjamas than I have on any other costume I've ever worn. An adorable little cherub of a girl in a Tiffany costume came up and handed me a costume ticket and asked which character I was supposed to be. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

Then there was the Guild party, and lots of ribbons were had by all. My personal favorites were the Guild of Ecdysiasts, Nautchers, Cancanieries and Exponents of Exotic Dance, guild motto "Veni, Vedi, Eget Linteo"* and the Guild of Librarians, guild motto "Ego Similis Magna Librorvm Et Mentiri Non Protest".**

Afterwards I could finally relax, so I went to the bar and ordered some delicious sliders. This was around midnight. Then there was the mingling outside on the finally cooled brick of the smoking area, and me and one of my friends got into the kind of argument that had the husband going, "Here she goes again," and trying to hint to me to tone it down while I was blatantly ignoring him and doing my best to prove to said friend that I was right and he was wrong. It was great fun, even if we did scare the others to the point where one of them started shouting, "Ewoks! Jar-Jar Binks! Ewoks!" in a desperate attempt to change the conversation. To give total credit to the quick thinker, it worked, and then everyone could talk again instead of listening to the two of us rant at each other.

At about one thirty we tried to call it a night and went back to the room, but I'd pushed myself way too hard. Those burgers came right back up, after which I felt worlds better. So I brushed my teeth and we went and visited the staff party and then went back outside, and I'm reasonably sure it was past four when we did manage to head in for the night.

*"I came, I saw, I need a towel." Although I do think the first two should have been juxtaposed.

**"I like big books and I cannot lie."

We left early on the fourth, and I'm glad we did because otherwise traffic would have been a joke. As it was, the drive itself was just too damn long.

But get there we did, and we went to check in and discovered that we were going to really dislike the hotel. Some smarmy little git behind the desk tried to tell us that our registry was wrong, despite months ago booking the room for two people and having the booking reminder confirm that we had registered two people. Said smarmy little git tried to charge us an extra three hundred dollars over what we had been told previously, and it was about to go rather poorly until Chip got the hotel manager out, at which point we were only charged a little over a hundred what we had originally been told. Our experience with the hotel did not improve from there.

But, despite being put on the twenty-first floor in a room with a leaky tub and the worst air conditioning, the water was hot and there was two-ply toilet paper. A shower helped get rid of the worst of the irritation, as well as a couple of shots from the bottle of Jack Daniels that I had so fore-sightedly brought with me, as hotel prices were about eight to ten bucks a drink, depending on if you went to the hotel bar or the bars that had been set up for events. I also discovered that I look good in a bowler hat.

Many other people had booked a day early as well, and there were costumes in plenty as people got ready for the fireworks celebration, a paid event that was announced long after hotel reservations had been made. Chip stayed in his room while I went and mingled and got to hear Bernard Pearson and Esther Friesner talk about democracy and monarchy and why the English should take the Kardashians. I ran into old friends and got to catch up, happy to hear that many of them are doing well, and much booze and laughter was had by all.

Then we went onto the reserved balcony for the fireworks only to discover that the view was terrible. So those same friends and myself went to one of their rooms, from which we could see three different shows including one over the Constellation, and had a really interesting chat with a security specialist about Snowden and why it is perfectly all right to have mixed feelings about the whole clusterfuck.

After that came what is generally my favorite part of convention going - hanging outside and mingling in the cool air with no kids about and the rude, drunken stories flowing like booze out of hip flasks. Bernard is a habitual pipe smoker, and he has the most wonderful stories, all about his own very interesting life and also about the long and varied time he's worked with Sir Terry. Nearly as good as having the man himself there, and in some ways better because I don't have the huge hero worship thing with Bernard and that makes it easier to just talk.

Unsurprisingly, it was past three when it was decided to call it a night. But it had been a wonderful night.

Tomorrow I leave for NADWCON.

I would be more excited about this, but there was last minute news that Sir Terry will not be in attendance. Rather disappointed, truthfully, but the news indicated that he and Rob and working hard on the new book and deadlines are looming. Personally, I would far rather see him for what may be the last time and get the book a week or so late, but I am not the publisher.

On the other hand, the main guest not attending does free up quite a bit of my weekend, and I was thinking of actually seeing the city, or at least some of it. There will also be more relaxed times for visiting old friends and making new ones.

I just really, really wanted signatures. And hopefully a photo opportunity. But mostly signatures.

So it's been a long damn year.

Orca is doing as well as can be expected; when she lays down on her side the tumors make her belly stand higher than her ears. She's still grooming and eating and rolling in catnip, and she hates me for not letting her go back outside. I don't care if she hates me, because as bad as it is that I've resigned myself to her passing, the thought of her dying alone in the cold is the stuff of nightmares for me.

Foundling's tumors came back under her arm; the vet said the same thing about her that he did about Orca: keep her warm and comfy and full of meat and catnip, and when she's in pain to go back for that horrible final visit. She's still very active and loving, and the only noticeable signs of her condition are the lumps and a marked loss of fur over her belly and legs. She still terrorizes the dogs and chases the other cats from her sleepy spots, so hopefully that visit will be a good long while away.

Beyond those two awful exceptions, everyone else is healthy and happy and doing fine. The puppies got new balls and ropes for xmas and have been bothering the two-leggers in the house constantly for play, and the kitties all got drugs and fuzzy mice and new things to shred.

I've also been a total slacker on getting the dog licenses renewed, so I'll likely have to pay a late fee on that. But since that's likely going to be the worst thing I've dealt with concerning the dogs, not including Neuman's popped stitch after his fixing, I'll take it as a win.

My mom is coming to visit soon, and thankfully won't be staying long. The older I get, the more I realize that we have nothing in common besides blood, and in all honesty it's damn stressful having a fundie in my house telling me that how I pay my bills is sinful when I can't yell back.

Not that I can yell much right now anyway. Been sick as anything since last friday, and at this point my voice sounds like Minnie Mouse in a room full of helium after a weekend of heavy smoking and drinking. Does not help that the husband thinks it's the height of fucking hilarity to needle me until I swear profusely at him. In strict fairness, the husband is not alone in this, and going back to work without my voice will result in much the same from the co-workers, so I suppose I should just get used to it.

In happier news, xmas was a wonderful time for swag, and my happiest gifts include two autographed novels, one Gaiman and one Pratchett, some absolutely stunning blue diamond earrings and a matching ring, and the most awesome ant farm I have ever seen. I'll have to wait for nicer weather to get my ants, but it's still very cool.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday with no drama. And thank Bast we don't have to deal with it again until next year.

Four teenage girls invent a generator powered by pee.

That is just so cool.

http://www.youaredumb.net/node/2096

That is all.

Earlier this month word was spread that Sir Terry Pratchett, my long-time most favorite and beloved of all living authors, would be in my half of the country, and I promptly went crazy with joy and frantic planning. After a few days of selling stuff and asking nicely and promising delicious foody things as bribes, me and the husband managed to scrape up a borrowed car and enough for gas, tolls and road food, and picking up most of the gas and muchies the night before.

Woke up yesterday morning at way too early an hour to hear the husband and roommate discussing exactly how they were going to fix the hot water tank, which had decided during the night to finally lay down it's life in the service of all the wonderful hot showers I'd had. I didn't have enough time to go into full blown panic mode before said husband calmly explained that he'd already listed the last of the silver online and yes, there would be enough to get it fixed by friday. Which means I should only have to borrow a friend's shower once or maybe twice before the end of the work week.

So we head out. At what turned out to be way too early, and after feeling old for hearing Hendrix on the oldies station we get there nearly three hours before the event and got to stand around really bored. We did see a clock tower that reminded me strongly of the newish Batman games and made me wish for a grappling hook in the worst way. I also think that the location the event was held at was the object of some kind of local scavenger hunt, as there were two occasions where people posed in front of the door and someone else would take their picture from across the street.

Finally people started coming in, which was very good for me as I was bored stupid by that time. I was lucky enough to see a few faces from previous conventions and even luckier to talk to a few people I'd only seen before in passing. Everyone was really cool and time passed much faster at that point until seating began.

We were told that this was Sir Terry's last US tour, but heard no clairification as to whether he would be at NADWCON. If he's not, I'll be really sad, but I honestly don't know, were I an older person with a busy schedule, if I could handle dealing with the TSA more than once every couple of years if I didn't absolutely have to. So while I'd still be sad, I'd understand. We were also told that there would be no signing of anything, which I'd half expected, and would recieve signed stickers made for the book launch, and there would be stamping afterwards.

The guest was a bit late, but that passed quickly enough, and then there was joy. Sadly, they all looked a bit wiped out. It occurred to me that they'd spent a few days at NYCC, and recalling my own convention experiences there was a good chance they were recovering from jet lag, hangovers, and Chicago traffic, the last of which is the worst because the cause is endless and ongoing. Rob Wilkins looked a bit better than Sir Terry, but they seemed to get better as the night went on. There was also a chance that they were just blinded by the stage lights, so I could be overthinking things.

There was talk of Sir Terry's production company, Narrativia. This is the company that is going to be bringing to the screen Good Omens and what will not be called CSI: Ankh-Morpork because that would be bad. The smiles when they talked about it were huge.

The man did confirm there is in existence the first draft of the next Discworld novel. Yes, I did squee.

There was talk of Dodger, and the work that was done in finding everything possible that would make it accurate, even down to knowing when wooden sewer grates were replaced by cast iron ones. They'd found the oldest tailor's in all of London, and the very first question that was asked of them was "What was the color of your front door in 1892?"* What surprised them was that not only did the establisment have the answer, but they also volunteered that not only did they provide custom to Robert Peel, a character in the book, but that they had also designed the first police uniforms, which gave Sir Terry a very useful thing to give the characters to talk to each other about.

Rob read the first chapter of Dodger, and after that came questions that the audience had written on cards beforehand. My question did not get asked, but many of the ones asked were wonderful, even if I really wanted a written transcript of what was said just so I could follow along better. Twelve hours in a car and then sitting around mostly bored are not the best way to prepare yourself to focus on something.

For example, one of the questions asked, which he's surely heard a few million times by now, was "what advice would you give to new writers?" This was immediately followed by an anecdote about Sir Terry giving a presentation in a writer's workshop with the opening of "What are you all doing here? You should be writing."

Another was Rob with silly grin as he said that there was one that he knew Sir Terry would answer with one word, then asked, "How do you pronounce 'Vimes'?", at which point Rob started cracking up, and when Sir Terry answered, "The 'g' is silent." well, at that point Rob went rather red in the face as he couldn't stop laughing.

All too soon it was over. I was looking gloomily at the very long drive home in my head when one of the ladies from the store that was promoting the event said that everyone who had a ticket number under one hundred could wait and have their picture taken, and that made me fairly giddy.

I was a bit of a pest, but it was totally worth it, because I managed to get a picture of Sir Terry, Rob Wilkins, myself and Anne Hoppe all together. For those who may not know, Anne Hoppe is Sir Terry's YA editor at Harper Collins, and she is the reason I get to read The Amazing Maurice and all of the Tiffany books. If you come to Baltimore and she's got anything on the event schedule, go and listen, because she's great at what she does and it shows. I'm hoping to get everyone's signature on the picture once I get it properly printed out. Since she doesn't have any pictures listed on any of the Discworld sites I frequent, I decided I wouldn't upload it, but I love it lots.

Then came the insanely long and frustrating drive home. We crawled in the door at almost five in the morning, and took a few hours to unwind enough from all the caffeine we'd taken to make the trip back.

Sadly, even after not enough sleep today, I realize that the whole thing just makes me think next July can't get here fast enough.

*I could be wrong about the exact date, as I was a bit travel foggy.

So after a very long and stupidly hot summer, I finally have productive things happening in my garden.

Today I got my first ruby colored cayenne pepper, almost six inches long and looking hot enough to turn my sinuses to vapor before I finish the first bite. Love it. Also have a giant pile of sweet banana peppers, though I have no clue what I'm going to do with them.

Been finding cucumbers all over the place; I have everything in raised beds, and I was a bit neglectful on getting trellising, so the cucumber vines strongly resemble a medusa sculpture at a distance. I'd honestly thought they were going to give me a whole lot of nothing for the year when I went out and found four of the things, all as long as my arm and heavy enough to club seals to death. I suppose I should learn what to do with them all now.

Turns out that onions need a lot more light than I get in my backyard; the whole bed just seemed to sigh, call me an asshole, and die completely. I think I'll plant radishes there in a few weeks.

As for the tomatoes... well, blossom end rot blows dead goat. Been dissolving a lot of Tums in water and pouring it over the poor things, and while it seems to be helping the new growth, it's doing dick for the poor ones that were already on the vine. On the plus side, the grandmother-in-law has suffered no such problems and was happy to pass on some of her harvest, so I get to spend tomorrow making lots of sauce.

I also found a place that sells the precious food mills that I have been needing, and they are a great joy. The little batch of sauce I made yesterday went so beautifully fast I almost cried, especially when I remembered using a colander last year.

I've missed proper sauce. Hopefully I'll make enough for a year this time and never have to taste that store-bought stuff ever again.