eleanor posted about overhearing a conversation between two men, the second of whom said that he considered himself a big reader too, but didn't read much. I commented with what still seems to me like the most likely interpretation, and she told me I was being incredibly generous.

I get comments by email, and when I read that email I started saying "I'm not trying to be generous," and then realized that the thought behind that sentence was that I shouldn't be taking credit for generosity.

Not because generosity wasn't my aim (my aim was understanding, maybe empathy, not generosity to a stranger who'll never see this discussion), but because I somehow felt I shouldn't give myself credit for being generous, because I don't think of myself as unusually so. Like not self-identifying as sensible, despite numerous friends telling me I am.

I think this connects to discussions, both in person with rysmiel and on pegkerr's journal, about being the person I want to be, the best Vicki I know how to be. The person I want to be is sensible (though sometimes silly), is generous within what I can afford (which is as much a matter of priorities as quantity), and understands the world around her. In that light, I'm glad to be getting to where I want to be.

Wands are out of date--you just can't get a good one anymore. But I got the chance to be a hero of the revolution--that was the exact phrasing used in the offer--by lending a traveling friend $200 for, as it turned out, about 40 minutes, between the time his traveling companion lost the wallet containing all the credit and ATM cards, and the time he found it again.

I told someone in the con suite that she was forgiven for everything, and a passing fan asked if she could also have total absolution. I told her she could, and gave her my get-out-of-Hell-free card. Questioned about my authority for such broad absolution, I flashed my Pope card, and people were duly impressed. One asked if all Popes carry cards; I don't know that.

Debbie had expressed deep regret that we were in Madison too late for lilacs, which don't grow in the Bay Area, so when I spotted someone carrying a few at the Farmer's Market, I hurried around, found the one vendor who had lilacs, and bought a large bunch, so I could give her half. Delight, and we had lilacs in the Green Room during the day.

David came into the Green Room during my shift, and asked for ibuprofen. That's not a standard Green Room item. Without thinking, I handed him my room key and said "524." He asked where in the room, I told him, and he returned a few minutes later, feeling much happier.

I want Teresa's Bag of Odd Holding, from which she produces unlikely but useful items that neither she nor the person who asks for them really expects to find there.