A few of you know that I'm very deep into a dragon*con-related project right now. It's not a bad thing - it should hopefully be a very good, very funny thing once it's done - but it's not something I can show on domesticat at the moment. I now comment fairly regularly on the dragoncon livejournal community, and I don't want random people from that community to randomly come here and have one of the upcoming surprises for this year's convention spoiled.

I'm mostly making good on my promise. Mostly.

The third year will be the charm(s), the boots, the skirt, the shirt; anything but the mundane. "At last," some of my friends will say, one in particular.

I'm not the dressing-up type. Or maybe I'm the perfect dressing-up type. It depends on how you look at it. For the flamboyant, the outgoing, dressing-up is a simple matter of tossing together bits and pieces and letting your personality do the rest.

Errata: for those of you who haven't checked the dragon*con website lately, Godhead and Voltaire have been added to the lineup. I'm pleased. I've never managed to catch any of Voltaire's legendarily-funny dragon*con shows, so hopefully I'll be able to make time to see him this year. Godhead is fantastic to crew for. They're respectful and friendly to tech staff, and just a genuine pleasure to work with. I'm with Jody on this one; I wouldn't be surprised if they're a Saturday headliner, and I certainly would be happy with the choice if they were.

Packing list? This got far beyond a packing list at least a year ago.

Year one of dragon*con: toss your toothbrush, toothpaste, and a spare pair of underwear into your backpack, while keeping your camera in your hand. Six days later, acknowledge the clothes that you're wearing are disgusting, and cannot be saved. Burn them. Vow to do better next year.

Total spams received in absence: 163.

Two hours into the drive home. Silence. After so few hours in the car, have we managed to say everything there is to say?

Three dragon*con staff meetings down, none to go. Last night, everyone marveled that dragon*con was already upon us, a sentiment made even more absurd by the frequent follow-up: "It's been so long since I've seen you!"

It always seems to end like this; a time full of solitude ending with a drive to Atlanta, resulting in a Sunday-morning urge to write before the wakening of the house disturbs the morning quiet. Not a bad thing, really, for someone who has been suffering from something that, from the correct angle, holds a distinct resemblance of writer's block.