Globetrotters, Comic Con, and Me

Stars came together this last weekend. Amazing things happening, and I’d chosen a piece of it.

Two friends traveling Europe were having exciting new experiences and sending back pictures. One friend, Sam of the Book Owls, traveled with her husband for work, and another with a group of mutual friends basically tearing up the various countries they visited in a whirlwind tour.

Then the other two Book Owls threw themselves into the San Diego Comic Convention (SDCC). Amy and Monika came away with different experiences, though Amy’s book haul of promotional copies and advanced reader copies (ARCs) made me drool. Bless her, she also brought me a signed copy of Liz Climo’s Lobster is the Best Medicine, personalized for me AND with a doodle of Rabbit inside! Amy is too good to me. Last year she got me Felicia Day’s book You’re Never Weird on the Internet, also signed and personalized – also agreeing to deliver my first ever fan letter when she went to the signing. I’m so spoiled.

I’d planned my own bit for the weekend – I had everything set to go to a book festival about an hour out of town.

The Payson Book Festival is young and small as far as festivals go, but I knew three of the authors who would be there. I wanted to support them, listen to some of the speakers (especially the Arizona History and Folklore talk by Gary Every, and the humor talk by my friend, Jan Martin), grab some tasty grub from a good restaurant, and then be home before dark. Nice little day trip. I even got a friend to go along, someone I’m always with digitally, but who I felt needed some face-to-face time.

Things fell apart Wednesday night.

While everyone either had pictures to send, or were getting ready to travel and start their adventure, I was dealing with a family emergency and spending my evenings between the ER waiting room and running errands so when everyone did get home, it wasn’t to a den of chaos.

In the middle of cruising all the Twitter feeds of SDCC and enjoying pictures from Germany, France, and England, I naively believed I could still keep my plans.

Friday morning, reality finally hit. I talked to my friend, messaged my author buddies, and instead planned out a full Saturday of laundry, groceries, and kitchen chores.

I only made it through with the Book Owl group chat, highlight reels of the convention, and pictures showing up on my traveling friends’ feeds.

Of course I am disappointed I don’t have pictures to share from the festival, though I hear it went very well. I would have liked to come home with a stack of books to read by people I knew before and new friends I’d met. It would have been wonderful.

I was, however, there to sit in the ER with family. I could ensure the fridge was full and the towels clean. I sat outside with my dog and watched the rain fall – one of the few beautiful things about Arizona summers.

I was where I needed to be when I needed to be there, at a pace slow and steady enough to keep above the wave of stress.

In that situation, anyone would be disappointed at missing out, but that doesn’t mean I chose poorly.


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