There is not enough coffee.
It’s been a week. And there is not enough coffee. Children packed, house cleaned, Dave readied (though not loaded, le sigh) and many miles fallen behind, and many miles yet to fall. I write this missive from the surprisingly light and airy Secret Lair of the BbESP and her Prince Consort. The Wee and Wee-er Daves are under the kind but skittish care of a family of wolves I befriended a few years back. Last I heard, they’d succeeded in taking down a rabbit, and a brace of unwary graduate students “communing with Gaia.” I’m so proud.
Yesterday was the long run, clocking in at fourteen hours of driving time, and arriving a bit past the mid of night. The next few are going to be pleasant, and relatively short jaunts through Flat Land, with stops for scotch, steak, and company, as well as seeing some genuine Americana, which I love. Most importantly, retrieving Plushy Wendell T. Manatee from the clutches of a vicious band of unnamed semi-feral younglings (really, he just wants a more restful trip). And then, the annual Congregation of the Libertous.
That’s right: I’m headed to LibertyCon. I wasn’t expecting to, but opportunities fell into place with nigh-alarming rapidity such that Mrs. Dave and I will be utilizing our purchased badges after all, and without the Wee Horde. Which will be nice. There will be whiskey. And whisky. And much conversation. I wager there may even be shenanigans, though I’ll deny. And Meat Faucet.
I’m reading with Her Highness, on … one of the day (I think, Friday), and I’ve got a few panels besides, but mostly I’m there to see people. I’ve missed my tribe, and adult conversation. I’ll be meeting with Scott Bascom on a collaboration for which we’re in the planning stages, and enjoying being temporarily childless. Plans will be hatched, I firmly expect. I’ll report back in next week with an AAR.
In the mean time, you deserve something of literary note. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. My apologies. If you can, though, take a long drive around the country. Soon, while things are still green. The entire south of Wyoming is GREEN-green. It’s going to be an amazing year for the tumbleweed crop. Drive, and take someone with whom you can talk, and make up stories about the falling over shack just off the freeway, or the apparently burned out hulk of a steel-reinforced concrete whatever. And relax. Talk to you later.