brief encounters

Worldcon was, well, Worldcon. Large and complicated, full of old friends, strangers, random acquaintances, and people I'd just as soon not have seen.

It was also full of very brief conversations, including one with someone who said "Vicki?" as I was walking down a nearby street. I turned around and looked blank. "Melissa Metz," she said. Still no connection. "I knew you in high school." Ah. Now the name is familiar--I was trying to place her as someone I would see at a worldcon--but nothing beyond that. She introduced her daughter, so I introduced my friends, and then we wandered our separate ways.

The good side of this is that, in between the brief conversations with random people, and the encounters on moving escalators, I had a lot of time with a few people. Even better, they were people I don't see very often--though I'd seen most of them a month ago, in Wales. But Jo and Emmet, and Sue Mason, are good company, and I can catch up with P&T here at home.

A special booby prize, though, for John Boardman, who remembered that I'd been annoyed to be complimented on losing weight, and did it again anyway. I know he remembered because he started with "You got angry when I said this a while ago." Okay, you know someone doesn't want to hear something, and it's not information they need, so what do you do? Talk about books, or the Hugos, or something. Or just say "Hello, Vicki." It's not rocket science.

There seem to be as many Worldcons as attendees, maybe more. At a different one, I got to spend more time with Kate and Dave, and Singer, and of course the wonderful but ever-busy Geri.

Maybe I should use those frequent flier miles to visit Minneapolis instead of Swansea.

[expect more Worldcon entries]

brief encounters

Worldcon was, well, Worldcon. Large and complicated, full of old friends, strangers, random acquaintances, and people I'd just as soon not have seen.

It was also full of very brief conversations, including one with someone who said "Vicki?" as I was walking down a nearby street. I turned around and looked blank. "Melissa Metz," she said. Still no connection. "I knew you in high school." Ah. Now the name is familiar--I was trying to place her as someone I would see at a worldcon--but nothing beyond that. She introduced her daughter, so I introduced my friends, and then we wandered our separate ways.

The good side of this is that, in between the brief conversations with random people, and the encounters on moving escalators, I had a lot of time with a few people. Even better, they were people I don't see very often--though I'd seen most of them a month ago, in Wales. But Jo and Emmet, and Sue Mason, are good company, and I can catch up with P&T here at home.

A special booby prize, though, for John Boardman, who remembered that I'd been annoyed to be complimented on losing weight, and did it again anyway. I know he remembered because he started with "You got angry when I said this a while ago." Okay, you know someone doesn't want to hear something, and it's not information they need, so what do you do? Talk about books, or the Hugos, or something. Or just say "Hello, Vicki." It's not rocket science.

There seem to be as many Worldcons as attendees, maybe more. At a different one, I got to spend more time with Kate and Dave, and Singer, and of course the wonderful but ever-busy Geri.

Maybe I should use those frequent flier miles to visit Minneapolis instead of Swansea.

[expect more Worldcon entries]

NY Review of SF

I've been doing a final cold read on NYRSF for a year or two now--typos caught, quotes corrected, oddities questioned. For that and other reasons, I was hoping the magazine would with the semiprozine Hugo. It didn't, but at the Hugo nominees' party afterwards (I snuck in by offering to help out), Kathryn Cramer told me how much she likes the pages I'm turning in. Egoboo is always appreciated, and maybe moreso right now.

NY Review of SF

I've been doing a final cold read on NYRSF for a year or two now--typos caught, quotes corrected, oddities questioned. For that and other reasons, I was hoping the magazine would with the semiprozine Hugo. It didn't, but at the Hugo nominees' party afterwards (I snuck in by offering to help out), Kathryn Cramer told me how much she likes the pages I'm turning in. Egoboo is always appreciated, and maybe moreso right now.

(no subject)

The personnel department just sat down with me and Mark (my friend who's being laid off, not the Mark who runs the department) to show us the assorted forms they'll want us to fill out, and tell us about COBRA and such-like. All straightforward and businesslike, but it adds an additional dose of reality to it, one that telling assorted friends that I'm being laid off didn't. 18 work days to go, and then I'm physically as well as mentally at loose ends. What do I want to do next? And can I at least get some vacuuming done, if I don't have to be out the door at eight every morning for a few weeks?

(no subject)

The personnel department just sat down with me and Mark (my friend who's being laid off, not the Mark who runs the department) to show us the assorted forms they'll want us to fill out, and tell us about COBRA and such-like. All straightforward and businesslike, but it adds an additional dose of reality to it, one that telling assorted friends that I'm being laid off didn't. 18 work days to go, and then I'm physically as well as mentally at loose ends. What do I want to do next? And can I at least get some vacuuming done, if I don't have to be out the door at eight every morning for a few weeks?