March 17th, 2011

Dead Reign

Whatever the Opposite of Oblivion Is

I thought I didn’t have anything to write about, but looking over my recent entries they’re all word count this and e-book that and look here’s a story the other. So here’s what’s going on that’s not writing related.

I commented to my wife Heather this morning, in a tone of some alarm, that nothing in our lives right now is actually wrong. This situation cannot endure, of course, but for now, I’m cautiously pleased about it.

I went to FOGcon last weekend, except I didn’t actually go to FOGcon at all — I did briefly enter the hotel lobby a couple of times. (Heather actually did things at the con, but I wasn’t feeling well Friday night, and so stayed home, and I took kid duty while she did fun convention stuff on Saturday night.) We took our kid into the city on Saturday and had lunch with a bunch of convention-going people — Jenn and Chris and Jed and David. Nice to see so many people all at once, though the need to keep my child from hurling his lemonade at passers-by made me a bit distracted. Afterward Jenn and Chris joined us for a stroll to Lafayette Park (right next to the mansion where Danielle Steele lives), which River loved — they have an old-school metal merry-go-round of the potentially-lethal sort I adored as a child, and the boy and I spun ourselves unto heights of extreme dizziness. (And despite walking too far and spending too long out and losing track of time and letting our parking meter expire, we didn’t get a ticket. Small miracles.)

Parent-child interactions are going pretty well. The boy is basically potty trained at this point, which is awesome. He hasn’t even had an accident in days. (To provide context for people who haven’t shepherded a child through this process: this is easily the biggest deal in my LIFE at the moment. I no longer cope with vast quantities of feces on a daily basis. Life is, therefore, wonderful.) The boy is a total sweetheart, except for brief interludes where he’s a fire tornado of apocalyptic rage. I took him to the dentist last week (his doctor’s name is Dr. Lopez, but he calls her “Dr. Locus,” which may indicate he spends too much time at the office with me), and he was awesome, totally chill, no freak-outs, just curious about the whole process. (His teeth are good, too.) He gets a bit stir-crazy when we can’t go to the playground because of the incessant rain, but the rainy season will be over soon, so that problem will take care of itself.

And next month: a big road trip down south to L.A., ostensibly so I can be on a panel at the Literary Orange festival at UC Irvine, but the reason I happily accepted the invite is so we can take the boy to Disneyland. (I’ve never been. Is it fun?) Yay for adventures!

Oh: and I’m reading Lawrence Block hitman novels, and playing lots of Oblivion (still sniping and thieving my way across the country — great fun), and really, that’s about it, but what more do I need for entertainment?

Originally published at Tim Pratt. You can comment here or there.