Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.

 Contact me at theyoungfamily (at) earthlink (dot) net

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» Friday, May 24, 2013
Into the Timegate

Sleep is a good thing, but knowing things are done is a better feeling. This probably explains why I could have slept until 9:30 and instead was up at eight (aside from nature's strident screams). Had thought about going to BJs this morning, but we wouldn't have had the time. Instead we stopped at Dollar General for a few things, then went up to the Barnes & Noble at West Cobb to pick up a book that turned out to not be there. I looked for another book that Dani Torres is always talking about, but it wasn't there either. I finally settled on a cool-looking memoir about a family taking a year off for an around-the-world trip.

One of the soups of the day in the store cafe was chicken with wild rice, so we had some lunch there, sharing a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert. This ended the pleasure portion of our morning; we had to stop at the bank then head home. We'd packed most of our stuff up before leaving the house and we just added the few things we bought at the dollar store, set Schuyler's cage in the backseat and coaxed Willow into same, and headed off on our last adventure for the spring.

This being Friday and this being Atlanta and it being around two o'clock, we were afraid of being clogged in traffic on I-285. Thankfully, this didn't happen until we were almost at our destination, the Holiday Inn Perimeter for this years Timegate. So we missed the traffic, but had to wait a half hour to check in. There were folks to talk to, though, including a guy who had driven in all the way from Shreveport.  Nice room, though, a king-size bed with a sofa bed, and free bottled water so we don't need to raid the car for water for Willow. We settled the fids, brought up the rest of our stuff, and cooled off for a few minutes before heading downstairs to registration.

For some reason we always have trouble registering for this convention. One year we paid but the machine was out of paper so we didn't get a receipt or something, so we weren't on the list. Last year something else was wrong, and then we didn't have the money to pre-register for next year (and the car battery did its thing...). We instead pre-registered at DragonCon, which was the last date for the bargain price, and early this year we got an e-mail confirming our registration. So we got to the desk to discover that we were just one of some DragonCon pre-registrations that didn't make it into the computer. Registration personnel know us by now because of all the glitches, and I had the foresight to print out the letter, so we had no trouble.

The restaurant was another story. We got there at 4:50, found out the buffet wouldn't start until 5:30 due to some miscommunication, and had to order off the menu. We didn't get our food until 5:30, and we got our appetizer with our entrees. I think the Holiday Inn needs to get Gordon Ramsey in here. And I really miss the nice plain food they used to serve. They had a decent spaghetti and meatballs when we first started coming, and other simple stuff; now they are all about blackened fish and chipolte this and that, trendy crap. All but the two most expensive beef dishes were highly spiced in one way or the other, so I had ot have a salad wth chicken breast, which was good, but that's beside the point. We spent the meal tasting the mango salad dressing trying to figure what the spice was in it. Clay and Anne messaged us during the meal; they were in the hotel, and they came down to talk with us as we finished eating.

James took Willow out before opening ceremonies and we took her in with us; she sat in a chair between us and was good as gold. Alan had to squint to point out all the guests in the audience, and of course the two special guests, Colin Baker and Colin Spaull, came up on stage. The former brought down the house by saying he preferred Atlanta to Detroit, where he appeared last weekend, and cheerfully said he was going to write a book called "Time Lords Dig Chicks," riffing on the Hugo -award-winning Chicks Dig Time Lords.

I brought Wil back to the room, where she drank madly, talked to Skye for a few minutes, then went back downstairs to join the panel "My Favourite Mistake," folks defending what was otherwise a universally reviled episode of Doctor Who. The choices ranged from old episodes like "Time and the Rani" and even the television movie with Paul McGann, to modern ones like "Fear Her," proving that what's one man's travesty is someone else's favorite, even if it's just for certain scenes.

James joined me for the Britcoms panel, which started out talking about Are You Being Served? and Last of the Summer Wine, but soon folks were chiming in with their favorites. We found out we weren't the only Dave Allen fans in the room.

James went to a panel on time-travel novels, which he enjoyed very much, and I went to the panel about Who in the 1960s. Louis Robinson told a hysterical story about how Monty Python's Flying Circus made it on the BBC, and a lovely woman named Annette Laing, former president of the Patrick Troughton fan club, a history professor who became a history professor because of Doctor Who, told stories about her visit to Great Britain. She and her mother visited with Patrick Troughton, who took her through the BBC, and when she talked about his dying, she became all choked up. I had to stay behind and tell her about how nice he was to us at MOC, the night before he died, and she just continued talking about how generous he was.

I ran upstairs to the room, knowing that after drinking so much when I took Wil upstairs before, she'd probably need to go out. The dog walk area is in a far corner, brightly lighted, but in the midst of a big dim parking lot. As I approached the dog walk area I heard a radio. Willow squatted to pee just as a man came out of a dark car parked right next to the area. I felt my heart in my throat, but calmly told Willow to come along. The man was paying more attention to another man coming down the parking lot. I have to say I was scared, but I just walked her calmly on, and they didn't bother me. I stopped to let her poop under a tree, collected the leavings, and then went inside. Whew. Sad that you can't trust anyone anymore. I mean, they looked like hotel workers and were probably on break, but how do you know?

Several people petted Wil as I led her through the atrium area and I found James, Anne, and Clay talking to a young woman who was interested in writing SF and who'd been at the panel. Then they headed for bed and James walked me back outside in  case Willow needed to finish peeing (she did) and those guys were still back there. Hm.

Everyone our age seemed to have gone up to bed; Caro McCully was the only person left down there that we knew. So we came upstairs to soothe a restless Schuyler and cool off.

And now it's an hour later and it's time for bed!

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