Opening Day of GenCon

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My job at this event is to be a facilitator. I run for packages, fetch food, shepherd kids, assure communication, and monitor the emotional states of those under my care. The kids weathered the first day really well. Link divided his time between the Lego giant inflatable pyramid and the electronic gaming room. Kiki was more eclectic and made friends with an artist who is exhibiting there. They each had a couple of tired spots, but for the most part they did not become over stimulated or stressed. I expect them to burn out some time before the convention is over. We’ll get through it.

Conventions always have lots of emotional highs and lows with accompanying anxieties. Yesterday I was worried that we had not brought enough merchandise. Tomorrow I expect to worry that I brought too much. Today featured many moments of tiredness where I could hardly find the energy to interact with people. But often a few minutes later I found myself on my feet cheerfully talking to strangers about our wares. Howard has similar highs and lows. We try to bolster each other through the lows and it seems to work mostly. It helps a lot that we now have enough experience to recognize that the lows are temporary and not an accurate assessment of how the convention is going.

The convention experience washes over me. There is so much to process that I can not possibly retain it all. But bits and pieces stick, sometimes without particular reason. Like the beautiful petite Asian woman I saw walking through the dealer’s room. She looked straight out of a fantasy painting with her beautiful features and long black hair. I also remember bits and pieces of the stories people tell me as we stand chatting at the booth. I realize once again that every life is full of stories to tell. Then I finally met in person the guy with whom I’ve corresponded multiple times because the postal service in his town seems nigh incapable of delivering a package without losing it.

By dinner we were all a bit frazzled and ready to collapse. Instead we found an odd little Italian place which made us wind our way through the kitchen and a maze of twisty white-tiled passages in order to get to the dining area. The restaurant had an earthy aesthetic about the black and white photographs adorning the walls. They were the visual equivalent of fart jokes. But the food was good, so we concentrated on that instead.

The kids and I are spending the evening in our room. It is nice and quiet here. Howard ventured out to find a game to play.

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Disconnectivity

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The Wifi network in my hotel is exceedingly annoying. It is almost ask-for-a-refund annoying. I am able to log in after a mere 5 to 20 minutes. Then it will work, randomly disconnect me, or connect only in random fits and starts. Fortunately my iPhone’s 3G network is fully functional. This means I can still depend upon email for critical communications during the course of the convention. It was less annoying to thumb type this blog entry on my phone than it was to deal with the Wifi.

Addendum: The Wifi appears to work better in the public areas of the second floor. Not the lobby with comfortable chairs, there is little-to-no coverage there. So I must evaluate whether sitting on the floor in a hallway is a worthwhile price for internet. I should also evaluate how strangely dependent I am upon this internet thing. I can unplug. I did it for family trips this summer. But I was expecting to stay connected during this trip.

Okay I’m done whining about the fact that I can’t send electronic signals around the world without having to put my shoes on and walk a few feet.

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GenCon Setup

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The exhibit hall is huge, but the space is far from empty. Crews were already working to set up multi-story displays, racks of shelves, and bigger-than-live statues. It is a sort of organized chaos made of boxes, cool gaming stuff, and large pallets of gear weaving through obstructed aisles via dollies and forklifts. The hall was also roastingly hot. We would have been sweating even without the physical exertion of shifting boxes of merchandise. Link was ready to melt. But we all kept hydrated and toughed out the heat. The air conditioners finally had lowered the temperatures in the hall about three hours after we began work.

This booth at GenCon is only possible because of Tracy Hickman’s crew of Kokomo Irregulars. They’ve been helping Tracy with GenCon events for years. This year they received multiple shipments of freight, hauled all the stuff from storage to the convention, schlepped it all in, and then helped us organize the booth. In addition, I was in regular email contact with them which was invaluable in helping me think through how the booth would be run. Our debt of gratitude runs deep and looks to get deeper before the event is over.

When we arrived at the convention center this morning, it was mostly empty. By 3 pm crowds were beginning to congregate around the registration booths. A group in pirate garb sang Acapella tunes. Everywhere I looked I saw people who obviously belonged to the geek tribe. It felt home-like. The show is coming together and it is going to be a sight to behold.

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Arrival Indianapolis

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Two plane rides and three airports, the only thing out of the ordinary was watching the kids react with wonder at travel details that Howard and I consider routine. That part was fun. I like it when my travel day is adventureless, because it is tiring enough all by itself.

The kids got their first experience of muggy weather. It rained this morning and then was hot this afternoon, the result was soupy. My desert born and bred children were a bit surprised to discover that hot could also be very wet.

We’ve settled into the hotel room, set some ground rules for cleanliness, and walked the convention center to plan for tomorrow. That is when the work begins. I’ve told the kids to expect the work to be hot, tiring, boring, and busy. On Thursday there will be games and excitement.

The very best part of the day was going out to dinner with a pair of people who have been online friends for more than a decade. This was our very first chance to meet in person. I was very tired walking to the restaurant and worried that I would not be good company because of the fatigue. I discovered to my delight that we fell into familiar conversation as if all of us hung out in person on a regular basis. Which I suppose makes sense since we’ve hung out online for quite a long time. I would have loved to stay and talk for much longer, but the restaurant needed their table back and Link had grown bored with all the sitting and talking.

Next comes sleeping.

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Jitters

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Today is Pre-Convention Jitter Day. This regular event almost always coincides with Packing Day. This time around I have several flavors of jitters which make for fun combinations. I can mix I-am-leaving-my-kids jitters with traveling-on-a-plane jitters or alternately, with first-big-convention-and-running-a-booth jitters, or even meeting-online-friends-in-person-for-the-first-time jitters. I know these are jitters and not things which are logical, but the suppression of blatant illogical nervousness is tiring and has me feeling edgy. I just need to plow through my task list for today. Once we’re on the move tomorrow, all the jitters will vanish because I will not have to anticipate I will just have to react to whatever comes.

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The not-so-typical teenager in my house

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The following conversation is a shortened representation of what was a much more convoluted discussion. I’ve just skimmed the essence of what was said to present here:

“He’s squashing my life!” bemoaned Kiki. We’d just spend an evening with a writer’s group in our home, during which Howard had pulled Kiki aside and corrected her on a particular social interaction. After the group left, Kiki and I washed up in the family room and her woes began to spill forth.

“Yes. Dads do that sometimes.” I answered. “It is impossible for your behavior not to be affected by the presence of your Dad. It is also impossible for my behavior not to be affected by the presence of one of my children. This is still true for me and my parents.”

Kiki nodded. I could see she got what I was trying to say, but she was not yet calm.

“But Mom, I don’t want to be that teenager. I don’t want to be crying about how my parents ruin my life. But that is how I feel. I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t want to be that person.”

“Feelings are not really in our control. You are having a specific reaction to a specific situation. The fact that you are not generalizing that reaction, making your dad into the bad guy, demonstrates great emotional maturity. The truth is that you and your dad are increasingly sharing adult friends, and what he did embarrassed you in front of your friends.”

“Yes. And I felt squashed.”

“So you’ve identified a specific interpersonal situation that troubles you. You can either respond by spending less time with your dad to avoid the situation, or you can confront him about it in order to stay close.”

Kiki nodded and our conversation wandered for a time into topics that were tangential. This continued until Kiki saw that Howard was upstairs cooking in the kitchen and said “I’m ready to talk to him. You have to come with me.”

And so I did. The conversation began a little on the wrong foot. Kiki expressed her squashedness and Howard responded with a bit of a lecture about how people who hadn’t done the reading should not speak up in writer’s group. Kiki folded inward and I intervened just a little.

“There is a larger issue here than just writer’s group. Kiki feels the same squashed feeling sometimes when you are playing RPG games together.”

Kiki nodded. “Getting into the role is easier when you’re not there. I can just be the person.”

Howard turned and leaned against the counter. He was quiet for a minute, then said. “Sorry. I’ve just had a whole chain of thought and there is some stuff you need to know Kiki. Any time one of my kids gets up to speak in public, I feel a sick feeling in my gut. I know how hard and humiliating public embarrassment can be and I don’t want my kids to ever experience that. This is why I always step in and correct. I’m trying to prevent you from having pain, and therefore also prevent my pain at your pain. The result still causes you pain, but prevents mine. I need to learn how to step back and let you make your own mistakes.”

Kiki nodded, absorbing this new information about how her father thinks. Then the conversation moved on, but not before there were hugs.

Once again I am impressed by Kiki and Howard. I was not able to have that sort of peer-to-almost-peer conversation with my father until I was much older than she is.

Epilogue: They had a game session two days after this conversation. It went very well with no squashing.

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Pets of four varieties

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“What is that chirping noise?” Howard called from his office.

“That’s Sweetie. We’re babysitting him for the next week.”

“What?”

“It’s a parakeet honey. We have a bird in our house. He’s trying to get someone to come talk to him.”

“Oh. I thought someone was torturing a computer.”

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Yesterday Bob and Joe the grasshoppers were freed from their glass holding tank. They were quite the adventurous creatures, having been born in Idaho and smuggled home to Utah in a small girl’s suitcase. Gleek tended them lovingly for three weeks, adding daily doses of grass and water. But in the end she decided that they would be happier where they could jump and fly. So Gleek, Link, and Patch trooped outside for the momentous occasion. Bob and Joe consented to sit on hands and be examined for awhile before we found them a nice hidden spot where the birds would not see them.

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This next week will also be one of Rat care. The rats don’t come to our house, but Gleek visits them daily and plays with them. She has even set up a special box so that the rats can have exploratory adventures.

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Our first try with Sea Monkeys was extremely disappointing, leading to a jar that was completely empty. The second attempt reaped exactly one Sea Monkey. Gleek named it “It” and watched lovingly while It grew. So the third attempt included two packets in two different containers. Both succeed in little swarms. Yesterday Gleek decided that all the Sea Monkeys were lonely and wanted to be together, so we combined the colonies. Now we have a bowl full of a mult-generational eco-system. They really are kind of fun to watch as they swarm around the bowl.

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Thoughts on ambition in the absense thereof

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My ambition appears to be AWOL right now. Not surprisingly in the absence of ambition, I’m finding it hard to feel stressed about this. I would probably be more worried about it, but it has done this before. My ambitious drive is somewhat similar to my childhood dog who would periodically escape our yard to wander for a bit. He always came home, just as I know that my drive to create and put myself forward professionally will come back to me. But in its absence I find myself reveling in the calm security of home things. And I wonder why on earth I wanted to struggle to write and then put myself through an emotional grinder to attempt to publish. I already have so many important and difficult things to do without that as well.

But in the back of my brain a quiet little voice whispers a that once I had a strong feeling that finishing my book is somehow important. The voice is a mere echo, soft and low. I hear it, but I’m not ready to rediscover that sense of importance. I’m not ready to do all the hard and scary things necessary to bring that project to completion. It has been so nice to vanish into my supportive roles, to be wife, mother, business manager, neighbor, sister, daughter, and friend; all roles where I am defined by how I relate to others. I even find scriptural and religious evidence that self-abnegation in the service of others is a good thing. I remember how a decade ago I used to picture myself as a sturdy, deep thread in the tapestry of life; the kind of thread that is almost invisible but makes the beautiful patterns possible. That is who my younger self believed I would be. I remember that then wonder from whence came the drive which has me stepping forward to attempt to weave a shiny pattern of my own? Religion and scripture answer me here as well. Yes, I am to serve others, but the primary point of my existence on earth is to learn, grow, and become. The service I give is to teach me as much as it is to bind me to others and assist them. Because all I will get to take with me when I go are the things in my head and the relationships I have formed.

So I am called to step forward, do hard things, be not afraid. I must follow the call, not for personal ambition or aggrandizement, but because I feel it is the right thing to do. The call is soft right now, like the distant bark of a dog headed home, but I know it is coming. Then it will be time to stop resting and work again. At the moment I don’t look forward to that, but I know when I get there I will find the work rewarding.

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Gleek’s possibilities

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I was in my room when I heard the piano music. It was a fairly simple piece, but it was played well and it was far more complex than any of my children could produce. I went to see who was playing. Gleek sat on the couch and Bestfriend was at the piano. The scene made me a little sad. The two girls started piano lessons at the same time, but life around here got crazy, I forgot to remind Gleek about lessons, and they became a chore rather than a joy. We let her quit. Now she can hear what she gave up. It makes her a little sad too.

I suppose the lesson is a good one. It is good for people to see the results of diligence if it then inspires them to work hard themselves. Gleek is not afraid of hard work or pain in pursuit of something she wants. But she is prone to giving up without trying if she believes she will fail.

This Fall music will be in our house again. Link has band. I’m thinking it is time for Gleek to try music again as well. We recently acquired a guitar, and I’ve thought of helping her work with that. I’ve also considered finding a new piano teacher. I’ve also thought of re-enrolling her in gymnastics. Just last week she was practicing walking on her hands. Gleek has so much potential in so many things that I could completely fill her days with lessons. But that would not be good for her either. So I keep turning over the ideas in my head, waiting for something to become clear.

I’m not sure it can become clear until after I’ve found a school routine. So much has yet to be determined. I need to figure out the rhythms of the days once I’ve got one kid in high school, on in junior high, and two in elementary. There are pieces I need to set firmly into place before I start adding ancillary activities. And I can not get started on any of it right now. So in idle moments my brain examines the shapes of the possibilities and plays with putting them together. It is actually kind of pleasant. All of it is shiny and new, none of it has become work yet.

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Yesterday’s Clothes

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2005 was an extremely lean year for us. Howard had quit his corporate job and we had not yet released the first Schlock Mercenary book. I watched every penny, knowing that the longer I could make the money last, the longer Howard could stay a cartoonist. All our resources were tracked and carefully managed. This included outgrown clothing which was carefully boxed to wait for the younger sibling to grow. These boxes of clothing sat in a row in our garage, and I kept careful inventory.

In 2006 we released the first two Schlock books. Our long-term financial prospects shifted dramatically. My purchasing and resource management techniques changed in response. At first I still stashed away all the outgrown clothes, then I began to be more selective, only saving a few items. Later I noticed how the six year gap between my daughters was sufficient time for styles to change, and many of the clothes I’d carefully saved were being discarded in favor of hand-me-downs from more recent sources. So I shifted to giving out-grown clothes to friends and neighbors who could use them right away. I figured it was my turn to be the one giving out bags of clothing instead of receiving them.

All of this is on my mind because today I dug through the last of the boxes of carefully saved clothes. My youngest two are now the same ages that my oldest two were in 2006. It gave me pause to pull out Link’s old clothes and remember what life was like when he wore them. We had a good life then. We have a good life now. They are just different shapes of good. I miss the slower pace, but I love the exciting things I get to do now. I don’t want to go back. I’m happy to continue forward, shaping my present so that it brings me good tomorrows and a wealth of things about which I can be nostalgic in years to come.

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