One of the fun things I did in July was go to Portland to visit my folks and attend Westercon. The weather was a bit cooler than I expected. I've been living in the effete south too long, I guess. I forgot the Pacific Northwest doesn't really get their hot weather until the end of July and August. Still, all the roses were in full bloom at the Rose Test Garden and I wandered around in the heat of the day with my pal and fellow garden enthusiast Doug Hanke making notes on roses I hope to grow someday. (Visit the Windgarden if you want to see my photos.) I had a good time visiting with my Dad and Mary Lou, and I saw my brother one night at dinner. He looks well, seems to be adjusting to his new life, and is doing some painting. He brought over one of his recent canvases and I was impressed by his painting technique and color sense.
At Westercon I finally made the financial commitment to joining ConJose, next year's Worldcon being held in the Bay Area. I kept balking at forking over $140 apiece, never having that much money at one time and being appalled by the cost, anyway. But Tom Whitmore, the chairman of the con and a most persuasive fellow, said they were doing an installment plan and I can pay it off quarterly. So I caved in and signed myself and John up. I even said I'd be a program participant. What the heck, it's better than working on the con.
I spent quality time with two old friends during the day and a half I was actually at the convention. I haven't really hung out with Randy Byers for a couple of years, since he's usually in the smoking lounge and I'm usually not. But he gave up smoking so he was around quite a bit. We discovered a mutual passion for John Crowley at a panel on Crowley's latest series. I was elated. I have been listing Crowley as my favorite author for years without ever meeting anyone who really knew who he was aside from the Seattle fans who introduced me to his book Little, Big. So the panel was thrilling, and I felt infinitely better hearing that everyone else found the three most recent books difficult, confusing, and occasionally opaque in meaning.
The other person I spent time with was Bryan Barrett, one of my best friends whom I now never see from one end of the year to the next. He lives in Olympia, Washington and has been a rare sighting at conventions for the last few years. I love him dearly. We were both born in August of 1957, but he actually shares John's birthday date. So I like to say we're identical twins born four days and twelve miles apart. I lived in his spare bedroom for a while back in the day, and I wish he still lived in the Bay Area. It was a surprise and a delight to see him in Portland.
The rest of the month I was either working, studying, dealing with my health, watering my garden, amusing my cats, spending time with my husband, or reading. I read "Prospero's Children" by Jan Siegel, "The Cassini Division" and "The Stone Canal" by Ken MacLeod, "Issola" by Steven Brust, "Ode to a Banker" and "A Body in the Bathhouse" by Lindsey Davis, an omnibus collection of James White's Sector General stories, a short story collection featuring historical detectives, and a history of British floral decorations which sounds dull but is absolutely terrific as it also covers interior decor and popular culture of the 18th and 19th centuries. I love books that cater to my obsessions, especially as none of my friends share them.
And that's what I did while I was on hiatus.
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