At the workshop house now. Tired, as it’s after 1 a.m. It’s just too tempting to hang out in the living room and talk to Kris and Dean and everyone.

There are three clocks in this room, and only one shows the right time, because I fixed it. Ack.

The trip here was fairly uneventful. I checked in, and then Ken and I popped out to a Subway for lunch (split a tuna sub) before I smooched him goodbye and headed to my gate. I always feel melancholy when _I_ leave _him_, because it’s so unusual. I got to my gate, but it was listing a flight to Seattle. At first I thought my plane continued on to Seattle, but then I realised other information (flight #, time) was different. Went back out and checked the monitor. Nope, still said that gate for my flight. So I got in line to ask. Only nobody was helping the people in line. Eventually a pilot came up behind me and asked if it was the line for counter help, and I told him that nobody was being helped. I said something about trying to find out about my flight, and he said that the Portland flight was due in at the gate after this (now late) flight finally left. Ah. Problem was, nobody was announcing or explaining that. I told a couple other people, but it was quite some time before anybody official made it clear. I guess they were busy dealing with the delayed Seattle flight, but I just wasn’t impressed.

In the end, I was only about 45 minutes late. Phaedra (whom I’d met at the Denise Little workshop) and Karen met me, and my luggage arrived swiftly, and soon we were in the monster SUV with the space cockpit dashboard and on our way. It was a very silly drive. Phaedra and I started doing lines from the puppet ep of “Angel”, and it all went downhill from there.

We got here, dropped bags in our rooms, and went out to dinner with Jerry (the fourth person who’ll be staying here during the in-between week) in tow. I have leftover linguine alfredo for breakfast. Mmmmm.

Dean gave me the room with the big bed because Ken will be staying here one night next week. (Have I mentioned that? He’s doing a ride this weekend, spending a day in the Bay Area with a colleague, then going to Portland for one or two days’ work. After that, he’ll come down here and spend an evening and night, and maybe part of the next day, before heading home. Because it’s between workshops, there was no problem.) Alas, it is a book room, so I may be insane by the end of my stay. You see, many of the books here are collectibles, so we’re not allowed to touch any books in the bedrooms. (The ones in the living room and dining room are fair game, but can’t leave the common areas.) I’m in the Pulphouse (their former publishing co.) room. Not as tempting as, say, the anthology room, but still.

Well, I still have half of a ms to read, so I should do that. Or go to sleep. Either option is valid.

Hm. I just spent time trying to pick a font for this journal. Bed may be a better option…

Oh, and reason # 893 why I love my Mac: I picked a printer from the pile, plugged it in, and when I asked Afalwen to find the printer, it said, “Oh, you mean this one here? Already done.” Hee.