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Party Season

Friday night was the department party, at the Seattle Sheraton downtown. Not a bad gig, and I got to know some of my co-workers a little better (such as, who can dance and who should sit it out). Unfortunately, I was one of those sitting it out, though not really by choice. I wrenched my knee somehow earlier in the day, and was on "sit and relax" duty all night. A good time, though, with stories of Moroccan days in the Peace Corps, the joys and agonies of Pocket PC developers, and the occasional dog story.

Last night was partytime again, at the home of the McKennae and their deadly-but-delightful Angelo Della Morte garlic spread. Shelly told the raccoon story, which I'm now so sick of I just have to boycott the damn thing. Marti wore a knockout, yes-I-am-a-rock-star shirt, and I met Paul, organizer of the V-Con in Vancouver. Jeff of Grubb Street was there with tales of the writing life, and other writers gathered round. I was happy to make the acquaintance of Melissa Shaw and Bruce Whose Last Name I Didn't Catch. We talked about genre, contracts, Eragon, new kids, cliche vs. originality, and so on till the wee hours. There was even the suggestion that we re-form the Kilomonkeys writing group, a suggestion that I intend to revisit in January. A good time.


( 7 sutras — Your wisdom )
Dec. 15th, 2003 02:44 am (UTC)
What raccoon story? I haven't heard it. -- bb
Dec. 15th, 2003 08:07 am (UTC)
Re: Really?
Well, I ain't repeating it. But you'll definitely hear it by phone soon enuf.
Dec. 15th, 2003 06:10 am (UTC)
In all the years I've known you, I've heard you talk about wanting to dance, but have never seen you do so. In fact, young man, I've only ever heard excuses. For years it was that you didn't have the right shoes--some fancy-schmancy Italian shoes were required. Now it's a wrenched knee. Hmmm, says I, is it all an elegant ruse? Or is it simply that one of the hippest, sauvest men I know simply ... can't ... dance ...?

Enquiring minds want to know!
Dec. 15th, 2003 08:07 am (UTC)
The knee excuse was legit, for once. I now own a pair of dancing shoes, and was wearing said shoes. All systems were go. But I had done myself such an injury earlier in the day that I wasn't willing to shake my booty. I had literally had to limp home while walking the dog. Dead embarrassing.

Actually, compared to some of the folks dancing the samba at the Sheraton, I can't dance. But point me at some goth-industrial grind, or even a waltz or foxtrot, and I'll strut me stuff. I've heard you call me out on this before, but everytime I say "Pick a dance floor", you demur. Can it be that Seattle's smoothest editrix lacks a pair of dancing shoes?
Dec. 15th, 2003 04:19 pm (UTC)
I am truly sorry you wrenched your knee so badly. I know about knee pain and have a lot of sympathy for that. But it's clear the the gauntlet has been thrown down. I suspect there may need to be an outing just to meet the challenge! Sometime shortly after the new year?
Dec. 15th, 2003 04:29 pm (UTC)
Sounds good to me.
Dec. 15th, 2003 10:09 pm (UTC)
I want to see evidence if this ever takes place.

See what you've done, Wolf? I've been forced to sign up. My poor maple syrup! :)

( 7 sutras — Your wisdom )

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