Okay, you KNOW I'm sick of traveling when I'm not dancing around the house because I'm headed to San Francisco tomorrow, for the Romance Writers of America National Conference, and of course to see my errant brother.
Oh, I'll GET excited, probably the second I get on the plane (too early) tomorrow morning. As far as I'm concerned, San Francisco is Oz and Wonderland and Shangri-La all wrapped up into one, always has been, always will be.
I just, you know, have so many books to write, right now.
It's interesting, packing. Mark Twain wasn't kidding when he said, "The coldest winter I ever spent was one summer in San Francisco." At least I know I can raid Michael's closet for that Bay Area staple - the long black cashmere coat. We all lived in those things when I was at Berkeley - it was cape, sleeping bag, body armor, ground cover, backpack, filing cabinet, bathroom cabinet, pajamas, bathrobe, evening attire, bohemian uniform and library all rolled into one indispensible garment.
I just had a moment of amusement at the idea of walking into the RWA conference in one of those coats. Romance writers are generally not the multi-purpose black cashmere coat type. In fact I am for once a little worried about the whole conference outfit thing, as I instantly revent to my roots when in SF and will undoubtedly be looking like I just crawled in off the Haight (because, well, I will have just crawled in off the Haight) only to be surrounded by a kind of grooming that my hair virtually ensures I will never achieve in this lifetime.
But at least I can feel at home just by stepping out of the hotel. And SF MOMA is right across the street.
Will report back next week!