News in Brief: D*C was wonderful
Tue, Sep. 8th, 2009 23:26![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jarissaHome. Made it safely.
Legs hurt: this is expected, despite hydrochlorotwhatsit. Feet are swollen, so possibly also carrying extra fluid in leg muscles.
Monday around 11:00 a.m., I realized I was DONE. Con was still in progress, I was interested in panels at 11:30 and two more at 1:00 p.m., but ... no way. I was officially done. Notified the Manly Contingent, trudged back to Hilton, fell back into bed, and slept at least five hours. On my way to the room, I saw Tireseas at work, and took photographic proof from the hallway leading to my room.
Fingers hurt: this was not expected, exactly, but makes sense, as we went through some rain and hail thick enough that most drivers pulled over to let the storm pass. I am ballsy, not entirely unacquainted with the safety principles of "driving through blizzard", and capable of switching my brain to "watch for changes in light+shadow pattern" instead of "watch for color and apparent size changes"; this time around, the weather didn't quite get to the limits of my tolerance for safely driving through the storm. However, in case of wind-tossing or instants of hydroplaning, I maintained a death grip on the steering wheel.
I remember thinking clearly, at least twice, "this would be a particularly sucky time for the power steering to go out again." Fortunately, Deity did not find the premise amusing.
I still have not asked an intelligent, discussion-provoking question at panel. Asked something at the Weird West panel that got me an, "I'll have to think about that," and off to the next question. Maybe next year! I did, however, make it to ConSuite, introduce myself to a Track Director, and the jury is still out on whether I'll find myself in anyone's photo collections.
While in the Bujold reading, I fingerknit a bookstrap for Tireseas' hardback, which I was carrying to get signed for him in return for his having done me the favor when Diane Duane came to Huntsville. Had the MASSIVELY INSANE thought, later, "I could try fingerknitting myself a dress." Dearly Beloved turned up the "saving you from yourself" card and pointed out very quickly how irate I would be, six months down the road, as this project goes to hell in a discordant handbasket.
In fact, we have given ourselves a mandatory two days' "sleep on it" before even strongly-tentatively committing ourselves to any particular project for next year. Even the one Tommy likes.
Animals are home, itchy but not furious at us. Everyone but me is asleep. I guess I should sleep, too. Pictures are mostly labeled, and will be uploaded to at least one gallery tomorrow.
Legs hurt: this is expected, despite hydrochlorotwhatsit. Feet are swollen, so possibly also carrying extra fluid in leg muscles.
Monday around 11:00 a.m., I realized I was DONE. Con was still in progress, I was interested in panels at 11:30 and two more at 1:00 p.m., but ... no way. I was officially done. Notified the Manly Contingent, trudged back to Hilton, fell back into bed, and slept at least five hours. On my way to the room, I saw Tireseas at work, and took photographic proof from the hallway leading to my room.
Fingers hurt: this was not expected, exactly, but makes sense, as we went through some rain and hail thick enough that most drivers pulled over to let the storm pass. I am ballsy, not entirely unacquainted with the safety principles of "driving through blizzard", and capable of switching my brain to "watch for changes in light+shadow pattern" instead of "watch for color and apparent size changes"; this time around, the weather didn't quite get to the limits of my tolerance for safely driving through the storm. However, in case of wind-tossing or instants of hydroplaning, I maintained a death grip on the steering wheel.
I remember thinking clearly, at least twice, "this would be a particularly sucky time for the power steering to go out again." Fortunately, Deity did not find the premise amusing.
I still have not asked an intelligent, discussion-provoking question at panel. Asked something at the Weird West panel that got me an, "I'll have to think about that," and off to the next question. Maybe next year! I did, however, make it to ConSuite, introduce myself to a Track Director, and the jury is still out on whether I'll find myself in anyone's photo collections.
While in the Bujold reading, I fingerknit a bookstrap for Tireseas' hardback, which I was carrying to get signed for him in return for his having done me the favor when Diane Duane came to Huntsville. Had the MASSIVELY INSANE thought, later, "I could try fingerknitting myself a dress." Dearly Beloved turned up the "saving you from yourself" card and pointed out very quickly how irate I would be, six months down the road, as this project goes to hell in a discordant handbasket.
In fact, we have given ourselves a mandatory two days' "sleep on it" before even strongly-tentatively committing ourselves to any particular project for next year. Even the one Tommy likes.
Animals are home, itchy but not furious at us. Everyone but me is asleep. I guess I should sleep, too. Pictures are mostly labeled, and will be uploaded to at least one gallery tomorrow.
