Cold Skunk Porn
|January 19, 2000
January 13, 2000
January 12, 2000
January 11, 2000
January 10, 2000
January 6, 2000
December 28, 1999
December 23, 1999
||We were worried that we might have no winter at all this year. We needn't have been concerned. We're still light on snow, though what we've had we've had since Sunday and it's not going anywhere. It's currently seven below zero outside, with a wind chill bringing that to ten below. And it's warmed up.
It should warm up to twenty degrees by tomorrow, however. Which, if you've lived in the snowbelt before, can only mean one thing. Snowstorm's a comin'. It's currently thought to last a good two days. No, I don't think we have to worry about having a winter any more. It's here. It's queer. Get used to it.
Maybe it's metaphorical too. I've been feeling pretty cold the last few days, myself.
Arisia was a lot of fun. I bought some art -- both a couple of Art Show pieces (including a relaxing angel that I think is truly beautiful pencilwork), and a commissioned airbrushed tee shirt of an In Nomine Malakite. It was an angelic weekend, I guess.
The hotel was lush, but utterly unsuited for a Science Fiction convention. The rooms were all far too small. (We got a Quad -- which had only two beds, plus a rollaway. With the rollaway, not only did one of us have to sleep on the floor but we literally were crowded to the point of falling over each other.) Those same rooms were used for Dealer's Row, which as a result could only have three or four customers in a "store" at a time. A far cry from the last year, which was a paragon of open rooms and comfort.
And the hotel service absolutely rotted. You would call guest services and wait twenty rings or more for someone to pick up, for example. No one smiled, ever. And if you were hungry, it was a better idea to brave the cold and find something to eat. We went to the Hotel Restaurant (the Arlington Grill) the first night.
Mistake. Big mistake. We went thirty minutes from sitting down to seeing our waiter. He wouldn't let us order drinks and food at the same time, despite being ready. We ordered food. I got a combo plate, asking him to skip the shrimp. The bit of steak I wanted medium rare. It also had chicken and sea bass.
Forty minutes later, we were served. The portions were tiny. Appetizer sized. Not even French Restaurant sized, but minuscule. The steak was cooked to the point of shoe leather. (Mason got the same thing, and ordered his medium well. He looked up after the first bite and said "huh. They managed to cook the meat completely out of the steak.") The chicken was also massively overcooked. The sea bass was acceptable, but one bite of fish doesn't make for a meal.
We were stunned. This was horrid and the service was bad. We collectively left the worst tip of our lives, and got the Hell out of there.
The next night, Mason and I went to the Hotel Bar to get something to drink and talk. Twenty minutes after arrival (and no orders taken for drinks) we left in growing disgust to go to the Hotel Cafe to get something to drink and talk. Thirty minutes there before I literally grabbed a passing waiter and demanded the chance to order.
The Boston Park Place Hotel. Don't book there. Never book there. It's bad. It's evil. It lacks most modern Hotel amenities (no pool -- not even complimentary bathroom coffee) for a traditional charm that wears thin when you're thirsty and upset. I dearly hope the Convention moves back to last year's hotel, though I've been told the Park Place was the traditional location for it and they've just gone back. I can't understand why.
I saw Archangel Beth, my editor at Steve Jackson Games, there. She and her husband, who's an SJGames writer, were in fine form and a lot of fun, when we went to the panels they gave. Beth is seriously nice people, and she reacted very well to the Malakite tee shirt. Well, so did everyone else who saw it. I'm going to get the school's Digital Camera and take a shot of it and see how it looks. I'm also supposed to get a second tee shirt of a Malakite, a Mercurian and a Cherub sometime this week. I'll put that one up too.
Other Con high points:
Driving home post-Con, Mason, Van and I drove into areas with snow. It was fun to watch -- Mason and Van hadn't seen snow outlining hardwood trees and their branches before, or the ethereal beauty of snow draped over the fields. It was fun to watch them. And me? I love snow. I felt good.
Which is nice, because as of the next day I didn't. I was depressed. Deeply depressed.
This wasn't over work -- it's a busy time (budgets consume us, right about now) but a good one. Things are well organized for budgets and I got my own stuff out to the masses early -- so now I have a pretty decent time of it. This wasn't over much of anything, as near as I could tell. It was just chemestry acting up and making me feel rotton, and coloring my perceptions of everything I did and everything in my life.
Do you know how easy it is to be fatalistic about a medical condition? Let's be honest here -- I have to lose more weight than most people actually have on their bodies. I have a heart that's enlarged and rigid and failing to operate properly. In too many ways, it's easier just to die. And I'm sick of the food I have to eat. I'm sick of grilled fish, designed to avoid salt. I'm sick of cold cereal. I'm even sick of medication -- twice a day, with accompanying side effects, over and over and over again. And I know there isn't any time I'll be done with this.
Oh yes -- the depression may be clinical, but it has fertile ground to grow in. So, talk to the Doctors. What else can I do, right?
Mom and Dad are still in Pueblo with Kris and George, so I'm talking quite a bit to Dr.G these days. He thinks maybe pharmacopic solutions would be a good idea. We'll see what Dr. Fleet thinks.
And now? I'm depressed. It's pretty straightforward. Ah well.