San Antonio!
I tried to post sooner, but the blog ate my homework. Note to self: compose and backup, then post. Single-celled creatures eventually learn to avoid pain stimulus, so I'm sure I'll get the hang of this eventually.
Update on the office cleaning: it's going slowly, but now Kate da cat can actually make it over to her basket to flake out while I work. She used to just peer in from outside my office, with a nervous look that said, "You're on your own, Ma. Hic draconis." Yes, when I do dialogue for the cat, she uses Latin phrases as well as bad language.
(By the way, Kate is the intense-looking cat in two of the pictures in an article written by friend and fellow Femme Fatale, Elaine Viets. Her article, "The Mystery Writers' Mews," on crime writers and their cats, is in Mystery Scene #92. Elaine writes like a dream, so you should check out her "Dead End Job" and brand-new "Mystery Shopper" series, too.)
Last weekend was spent in sunny San Antonio, Texas (you can't imagine what it's like to experience temps in the mid-70s after leaving Boston's sleet and freezing rain: lovely). I got to see downtown, The Alamo, the Riverwalk (where apparently 800 people a year fall into the river from the narrow pathways), the Marketplace,
and the McNay Art Museum, which has an incredible private collection of modern art, Impressionists to the mid-20th-century.
I also had a chance to stop by and do an event at my friend Patsy Asher's wonderful mystery bookstore, Remember the Alibi. There was a great group of readers there, and I hope they had as much fun as I did.
My friend, writer Dan Hale even dropped in. Actually, yet another writer friend, Maria Lima (originally from San Antonio), was great about telling me what to check out,
so San Antonio turned out to be a really mystery-friendly place. With traditional Mexican cuisine, Tex-Mex, and a few margaritas. Nice.
One thing that took me by surprise was the amount of screaming I heard. It wasn't the "yee-hahs" one might expect (the Rodeo was underway), but armies of cheerleaders in town for a national convention. Very young, but very well developed lungs. The first time I heard them, I jumped a mile, then started looking for the emergency (I don't have kids of my own, so I'm still learning to distinguish good, "we're-having-fun," screams from bad, "call-an-ambulance," screams.) And since I spend most of my time in my very quiet (albeit, messy) office, you might imagine this took some getting used to. Down on the Riverwalk, one group of cheerleaders would espy the competition and try to out-holler them. The competition would respond in kind. All amplified by the river, the bridges, the buildings. I don't know how they competed all day, then ran around, highly vocal, until late at night. It made me feel old. And more than a bit fuddy-duddyish.
But now it's back to the real world with an incoming storm and dealing with the landfill that is my office. Yikes.
Update on the office cleaning: it's going slowly, but now Kate da cat can actually make it over to her basket to flake out while I work. She used to just peer in from outside my office, with a nervous look that said, "You're on your own, Ma. Hic draconis." Yes, when I do dialogue for the cat, she uses Latin phrases as well as bad language.
(By the way, Kate is the intense-looking cat in two of the pictures in an article written by friend and fellow Femme Fatale, Elaine Viets. Her article, "The Mystery Writers' Mews," on crime writers and their cats, is in Mystery Scene #92. Elaine writes like a dream, so you should check out her "Dead End Job" and brand-new "Mystery Shopper" series, too.)
Last weekend was spent in sunny San Antonio, Texas (you can't imagine what it's like to experience temps in the mid-70s after leaving Boston's sleet and freezing rain: lovely). I got to see downtown, The Alamo, the Riverwalk (where apparently 800 people a year fall into the river from the narrow pathways), the Marketplace,
and the McNay Art Museum, which has an incredible private collection of modern art, Impressionists to the mid-20th-century.I also had a chance to stop by and do an event at my friend Patsy Asher's wonderful mystery bookstore, Remember the Alibi. There was a great group of readers there, and I hope they had as much fun as I did.
My friend, writer Dan Hale even dropped in. Actually, yet another writer friend, Maria Lima (originally from San Antonio), was great about telling me what to check out,so San Antonio turned out to be a really mystery-friendly place. With traditional Mexican cuisine, Tex-Mex, and a few margaritas. Nice.
One thing that took me by surprise was the amount of screaming I heard. It wasn't the "yee-hahs" one might expect (the Rodeo was underway), but armies of cheerleaders in town for a national convention. Very young, but very well developed lungs. The first time I heard them, I jumped a mile, then started looking for the emergency (I don't have kids of my own, so I'm still learning to distinguish good, "we're-having-fun," screams from bad, "call-an-ambulance," screams.) And since I spend most of my time in my very quiet (albeit, messy) office, you might imagine this took some getting used to. Down on the Riverwalk, one group of cheerleaders would espy the competition and try to out-holler them. The competition would respond in kind. All amplified by the river, the bridges, the buildings. I don't know how they competed all day, then ran around, highly vocal, until late at night. It made me feel old. And more than a bit fuddy-duddyish.
But now it's back to the real world with an incoming storm and dealing with the landfill that is my office. Yikes.
posted by Dana | 11:56 AM
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