Last night I finished rereading Anne of Green Gables for the umpteenth time.  I felt like I needed a happy reassuring book.  In fact, I love this book so much that I think it is definitely on my list of favorite books of all time, and possibly THE favorite, given how many times I have read it, over so many years and chapters of my life.  I want to read it on my death bed, that's how much I love it.  I always feel so inspired by the character of Anne.  Many of her philosophies of life resonate strongly with what I want for my life. 

I also love the beautiful descriptions of nature on PE Island, and the pace of turn-of-the-century rural life in Canada.  It's nothing at all like my life has ever been, or will likely ever be, but I find it strangely peaceful to contemplate.  I mean, sure, it's a community in which you have to deal with feuding families, busy body neighbors, and grouches and cranks and everybody knows your business.  But it's also this warm community where people know each other, socialize with each other, and help each other out.  And when they're helping, it's rarely a question of being put upon, it's more a matter of course.  Of course your neighbor will go get the doctor for you when your child is sick or injured.  Of course someone will take you in to board if you fall upon hard times.  Of course people will visit you if you have a broken foot or your baby died.  And people will be proud of you when you achieve greatness, too.

I don't really have a community like that right now, and I think it can be hard to find.  If my car breaks down or I'm really sick or crippled by some injury, I ask my husband for help and that's pretty much it.  In desperate circumstances I'll ask my dad if he's in town.  Anybody else, I suppose I might ask but I'd feel awfully apologetic about it.  Same thing with my good news.  Let's say I miraculously scored a book deal tomorrow, who would I call?  My husband, and then I'd probably tell the internets.  But wouldn't it be much more fun to call ten or twenty people, or better yet, go visit ten or twenty people and bounce around in their presence?  But I wouldn't, not if it happened tomorrow.  Something I'd like to change.  But in the meantime, I can imagine it while reading about Anne's adventures and scrapes. 

I think I might re-read Anne of Avonlea next. :)

zellandyne

therinth

I was very struck by how friendly everyone was, and how genuinely helpful.  Everyone happily introduced me to other people or introduced themselves.  Conversations flowed: about books, about writing, about bunny suits and tapirs, about feminism, about costumes, about music and theater and Kindles and synopses, about Doctor Who and Dollhouse, about travel.  Generous offers were made, to help me with my synopsis, with editing, with moral support.  And then at the very end, a whole group of people broke out singing musical theater, and old school musical theater at that, and I couldn't have been happier.

zunger

The panels weren't all of equal quality, but I felt that I learned something from (or was entertained by) each of them.  The food was often fantastic, and the guest of honor speeches were well delivered, especially Ellen Klages' speech, which was heartfelt, funny, and touching.  I almost cried when Nisi Shawl went forward to accept her Tiptree Award.

Really, the con was about the people, spending time with friends I already know and getting to meet great people, some of whom I sincerely hope will become my friends long-term, in spite of geographical distance.   It was quite a weekend, and I'm so glad I had such a positive experience.  Thanks to everyone who contributed to it.  You are all lovely, special people.