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Coming home
Mar. 10th, 2013 05:45 pmA year ago today, I flew into America to stay, to make my new home here.
Today, we came home from two days across the bay at FogCon (well, technically at FOGcon, but I decline to play with typography that way, especially as it's meant to remind me that FOG stands for Friends Of Genre, which I deprecate). Not so much a journey, but the boys were pleased to see us.
The con was fine, except for their evil tendency to make me sit on panels and say stuff. I survived my Friday evening panel and my Saturday evening panel, but the Sunday lunchtime not so much. Can this have anything to do, I wonder, with the fact of alcohol...? Anyway, halfway through the panel m'wife was moved to observe from the floor that I hadn't said anything yet, and would I care to speak? At all? About anything...?
So I held forth and was wise for three minutes, and then sat back and let the others get on with it again. I dunno: I just seemed to have run out of words entirely, rather than the slow build-and-release with which I am normally burdened. I do envy vocal and articulate people so very much; me, the older I get, the less I have that seems at all worth saying. It's a trial to me.
Still: we're home, which is nice. And shortly we'll go to the grocery store, and then we're going out for dinner to the first place I ever ate in the US, the place where Karen always takes me when I arrive. Then I'll know that I'm back again.
Today, we came home from two days across the bay at FogCon (well, technically at FOGcon, but I decline to play with typography that way, especially as it's meant to remind me that FOG stands for Friends Of Genre, which I deprecate). Not so much a journey, but the boys were pleased to see us.
The con was fine, except for their evil tendency to make me sit on panels and say stuff. I survived my Friday evening panel and my Saturday evening panel, but the Sunday lunchtime not so much. Can this have anything to do, I wonder, with the fact of alcohol...? Anyway, halfway through the panel m'wife was moved to observe from the floor that I hadn't said anything yet, and would I care to speak? At all? About anything...?
So I held forth and was wise for three minutes, and then sat back and let the others get on with it again. I dunno: I just seemed to have run out of words entirely, rather than the slow build-and-release with which I am normally burdened. I do envy vocal and articulate people so very much; me, the older I get, the less I have that seems at all worth saying. It's a trial to me.
Still: we're home, which is nice. And shortly we'll go to the grocery store, and then we're going out for dinner to the first place I ever ate in the US, the place where Karen always takes me when I arrive. Then I'll know that I'm back again.