Mozart, I'm home!
Thursday, April 15th, 2004 07:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanni...like he cares. After the beauty nap, the nap to recover from the beauty nap, the True Dreaming nap, and dinner, *then* he'll care. In the meantime we've been abundantly greeted by Scrabble, Max! and Patia, who are all apparently on the day shift today.
Yesterday, as advertised, we drove down to New Hampshire to talk with the science fiction group at Toadstool Books in Milford. It being on the order of a four-hour drive to raise Milford, we decided to stay the night in Manchester, home of the Mall of New Hampshire, as well as numerous -- not to say unending -- strip malls, auto dealerships, gas stations, and chain restaurants. We checked in early and then took a walk through the three or four strip malls immediately adjacent to our hotel. This was more amusing than might be expected, since we *do* live in Central Maine and don't get out much. I have, for instance, never been in a Tweeters, so we wasted a good amount of time looking at televisions, and testing speakers. Steve had a very long and serious conversation with one of the earnest and good-natured young men about satellite radio options, and came away with Brochures. You know a geek conversation has been successful if you get Brochures.
We also /t/e/r/r/o/r/i/z/e/d visited Petco -- another first for me -- but failed to play with the ferrets, as they were both sleeping. We did have a long talk with the parakeets and traded insults with a couple of parrots, including Clyde, who hatched in November and was still working on his whistles.
We stopped at a jewelery store which was heavily into gold chains, silver chains, and thick, ungraceful wedding rings, and earrings. The two guys behind the counter really didn't want to see strangers in their store, so we left pretty quickly. Without Brochures.
Paused at Ferrari's pizza and spaghetti emporium, where the young man behind the counter assured us that they stayed open until midnight every night, which seemed to solve the late dinner problem (the hotel restaurant closed at 9; all other restaurants in a three-mall-strip closed at 9 or before. Our signing, in Milford, down the road a piece, went over at 8:30). We scored a Menu, which is almost as good as Brochures, and a refrigerator magnet; then checked out the used game/dvd store. Alas, this proved to be fairly thin fun, so we headed back to the hotel, stopping at Panera (*not* a first, she said smugly -- there's one in Augusta) to share the World's Largest Cinnamon Bun.
Back at the room, we napped, showered, changed, and betook ourselves off to Milford, where we found a bright-eyed crew of doughty SF readers, who plied us with questions and listened very patiently to our answers. We sold some books, signed some books, and joined the crew at the traditional after-meeting meet-and-eat at Elysha's restaurant, where a good time was had by all, and which proves that there's nothing like planning in advance to make sure that you don't need to plan in advance. Or something.
This is the second time we've done an event at Toadstool Books. Both times have been quite wonderful. Lois, the manager, is a delight, and -- well, it's a *book*store, for heaven's sake!
We returned to the hotel in the fog, which was rather more harrowing than enjoyable, shared a glass of wine and so to bed.
**
This morning, we kicked around the mall a bit, failed to locate the perfect handbag, signed stock at the B.Dalton, found at long last a "body glove" for my cellphone, and wandered out into the slowly clearing day, taking Route 101 to 1B which eventually led to Hampton Beach, Rye and other seacoastal New Hampshire villages. I am able to report that the sea was gray-green and rough, the sky striped with gray clouds, and that the wind was crisp-to-cutting. Perfect!
We decided to forgo a second side-trip, this to the Maine coast, and blitzed straight up the turnpike, pausing only briefly in Waterville to take on groceries. The email has been dealt with, the snail mail sorted out -- someone has again neglected to mail that four million dollar check made out to Sharon Lee and Steve Miller -- and Mozart has at last arisen from his bed and is on my lap, with his chin on the keyboard.
Yesterday, as advertised, we drove down to New Hampshire to talk with the science fiction group at Toadstool Books in Milford. It being on the order of a four-hour drive to raise Milford, we decided to stay the night in Manchester, home of the Mall of New Hampshire, as well as numerous -- not to say unending -- strip malls, auto dealerships, gas stations, and chain restaurants. We checked in early and then took a walk through the three or four strip malls immediately adjacent to our hotel. This was more amusing than might be expected, since we *do* live in Central Maine and don't get out much. I have, for instance, never been in a Tweeters, so we wasted a good amount of time looking at televisions, and testing speakers. Steve had a very long and serious conversation with one of the earnest and good-natured young men about satellite radio options, and came away with Brochures. You know a geek conversation has been successful if you get Brochures.
We also /t/e/r/r/o/r/i/z/e/d visited Petco -- another first for me -- but failed to play with the ferrets, as they were both sleeping. We did have a long talk with the parakeets and traded insults with a couple of parrots, including Clyde, who hatched in November and was still working on his whistles.
We stopped at a jewelery store which was heavily into gold chains, silver chains, and thick, ungraceful wedding rings, and earrings. The two guys behind the counter really didn't want to see strangers in their store, so we left pretty quickly. Without Brochures.
Paused at Ferrari's pizza and spaghetti emporium, where the young man behind the counter assured us that they stayed open until midnight every night, which seemed to solve the late dinner problem (the hotel restaurant closed at 9; all other restaurants in a three-mall-strip closed at 9 or before. Our signing, in Milford, down the road a piece, went over at 8:30). We scored a Menu, which is almost as good as Brochures, and a refrigerator magnet; then checked out the used game/dvd store. Alas, this proved to be fairly thin fun, so we headed back to the hotel, stopping at Panera (*not* a first, she said smugly -- there's one in Augusta) to share the World's Largest Cinnamon Bun.
Back at the room, we napped, showered, changed, and betook ourselves off to Milford, where we found a bright-eyed crew of doughty SF readers, who plied us with questions and listened very patiently to our answers. We sold some books, signed some books, and joined the crew at the traditional after-meeting meet-and-eat at Elysha's restaurant, where a good time was had by all, and which proves that there's nothing like planning in advance to make sure that you don't need to plan in advance. Or something.
This is the second time we've done an event at Toadstool Books. Both times have been quite wonderful. Lois, the manager, is a delight, and -- well, it's a *book*store, for heaven's sake!
We returned to the hotel in the fog, which was rather more harrowing than enjoyable, shared a glass of wine and so to bed.
**
This morning, we kicked around the mall a bit, failed to locate the perfect handbag, signed stock at the B.Dalton, found at long last a "body glove" for my cellphone, and wandered out into the slowly clearing day, taking Route 101 to 1B which eventually led to Hampton Beach, Rye and other seacoastal New Hampshire villages. I am able to report that the sea was gray-green and rough, the sky striped with gray clouds, and that the wind was crisp-to-cutting. Perfect!
We decided to forgo a second side-trip, this to the Maine coast, and blitzed straight up the turnpike, pausing only briefly in Waterville to take on groceries. The email has been dealt with, the snail mail sorted out -- someone has again neglected to mail that four million dollar check made out to Sharon Lee and Steve Miller -- and Mozart has at last arisen from his bed and is on my lap, with his chin on the keyboard.
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 10:21 am (UTC)Well, the almost-perfect handbag -- the one with the light inside it -- lacks long-enough straps. I have to carry the wretched thing and I don't wanna. I want both hands free so I can talk, so the bag has to go over one shoulder. Except. My back and left shoulder can't take a lot of strain as the result of a car accident mumbledimumble years ago, so the bag shouldn't weigh a ton by itself, small enough that I'm not tempted to carry, oh, a hardback book in it, but big enough for a paperback, plus the cellphone, the glasses, the wallet, the cards, the pills, the keys -- all arranged and tidy so I can find what I'm looking for in two seconds flat.
...not that I'm demanding, or anything...
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 06:06 pm (UTC)I bought a very attractive tote in black that I thought rocked until I realized, like you, that it needed longer straps. If I'm wearing a coat, I can't hitch it over my shoulder. Fortunately, we are rapidly leaving coat weather behind.
I really like my Ellington tote for cons. Four exterior pockets, two of which are perfect for mini-umbrella and water bottle. Back pocket unzips along the bottom as well as the top so that bag can slide over rolling luggage handle. Pockets inside for cell phone and PDA.
It doesn't have an interior light, though. I have never had a bag with an interior light. Now I feel deprived.