If you're looking for me, you should check out http://jonquil.livejournal.com.

Warning: no fanfic content.

Last weekend I flew to Ohio for a writers' conference. The highlight for me was a workshop with Jennifer Crusie, author of Welcome To Temptation. In person, Crusie is as snarky, intelligent, and widely read as her books would make you think.

I learned a lot; I was reminded of things I'd already forgotten. I'll try to do a list later, after it's all had time to jell. But I felt fed, spiritually, for the first time in a long time.

And in the lighter news department, Big feet, big boots. Oh, well. We'll all have to go back to picking dates by their personality, not their shoe size.

In the good news front, we happened on the Musée Mecanique Sunday. Just stumbled on to it after eating lunch at the Cliff House. It had been rather a fraught day; we went to the Egypt exhibition in the Legion of Honor palace (mostly bas-reliefs; I had forgotten how incredibly delicate Egyptian carving was), and our 9-year-old son had complained the whole time. He then complained all the way through lunch. Then we left the Cliff House, I went downstairs to check out the view, and I insisted that the whole very crabby family come downstairs. After which we spent a happy hour or so (and many, many quarters) playing with mechanical wonders from the late 19th and early 20th century. Peep shows! An animated hanging! "The Drunkard's Dream"! Orchestrions!

My favorites are the fortune-telling machines whose eyes move, who breathe, and who pass their hands over cards. (Grandma tells me that "My marriage life will run more smoothly when I overcome my inclination to jump to conclusions.") Those are really disturbing toys. I want to work one into a story, even though I'm sure it's been done. Just imagine if the card said something like "You will die tomorrow" or "Duck when you leave the Museum."

In not-so-light news, I've had double vision at distances for a week. Optometrist's appointment today at two. I suspect middle age has just landed me another clout on the head. Fortune's a right strumpet.

I walk into the room to find my husband holding a ruler. "I've got six inches. I can't decide if eight inches or ten inches would be better."
"Wouldn't ten inches be hard to maneuver?"
"Babe, if you've got ten inches, you don't HAVE to maneuver."
So he gets out the ruler and he measures.
And decides he'll have to visit a cutlery store before he decides what size of chef's knife he wants for his birthday.

Hindu Finger Puppets. Is this a great country, or what?

Pajamas On Parade This sounds like fun.