Conestoga!

This week has been a near dead loss, on the writing front, but when it comes to enriching my lifestyle?

Well, so a SF/F con and botched library trip aren't actually making my small-talk subject deficit any less glaring, but I enjoyed myself.

At the convention, that is.
I was on the fence about whether to go to the filk writing panel or Irish dancing workshop yesterday afternoon, but chose the Irish dancing because, you know, the question was a bit obvious. And I wasn't exactly interested in filk, but in lyric-writing for fansongs. Which Cedric of the Bedlam Bards could have talked about, surely, but hijacking workshops for my own personal agenda is something I save for people who already know me.

There is a point to this story, we just haven't got there yet.

I went up there, and a few minutes into the session, our instructor tells us we're going to preform this with Queen's Gambit. Our lesson will not be an hour, and this reel has like 8 steps, all different but for the lead step.
We did it. It was not wonderfully done (which we can totally blame on the band's cruelty in picking a song that went fast after starting way too slow, and which only got fast enough once we ran out of steps) but we nailed it once in the practice.

And that sort of thing just happens to the brilliant and beautiful, so I'll live with it.

P.S. Laurell K. Hamilton's bodyguard had a sense of humor I found surprising. I may have to rewrite my head-version of that one story...