Condentation. A love letter.

I returned to Bethlehem by early evening after an epic weekend at BaltiCon. Strangely enough, I was able to buzz up I-95 with zero road rage and no stop-and-go holiday traffic drama. When I walked into my studio and dropped my bags on the floor, I saw immediately that the Maestro was up to his old tricks again. When I'm away he takes the opportunity to give something a make-over. This time he completely re-orged a part of the studio that was a little black-hole-like... organizing all the disparate elements of the deep-sink room onto shelves, hanging framed items [even my t-square has a new home!], putting up a mirror to relieve the area of claustrophobia. This guy is just amazing.

So my first inclination was to run next door and hug him to bits... and then I proceeded to give him an hour-long encapsulation of the weekend. I missed him terribly—it's just not a Con without him. But my gushing about the weekend just re-confirmed how much I feel at home at BaltiCon, how much I dig hearing what people are doing, experiencing their awesomeness in person... and how much I simply adore everyone who participated.

The experience warrants a detailed account but you know how I am. Like any blog aspirant with a day job, every good intention to write will probably fall victim to the maelstrom that will be re-entry into the work week. After a weekend of little sleep from a geek-heaven summer camp with alcohol and microphones and electricity and a desire to do every single thing on the program agenda and then the trek home—one can feel kind of dented at the end of the haul. So I wanted to take this opportunity to say:

~ I love all you talented, tuned-in, magnificent bastards. You make my world an enormously more interesting place.

~ Thank you for always inviting me to join the experience and the fraternity and the hijinks and making me feel like I'm truly among my people.

~ If you couldn't make it this year, please know that you were sorely missed and trust that when your name came up in conversation—because it inevitably did—it was dipped in affection, topped with the last best story about you and succeeded by a sigh of regret that we couldn't hang with you.

~ I hate that I had little time to spend hours with you but I'm grateful for the opportunity to hug each of you, even if it was a brief meet-up on the way to another panel. I'm beyond fortunate to know you all—from acquaintances old and new to dear friends who live in far-flung places. I wish I could list every single one of you. It would be a roll-call of pure fucking awesome. From the snacky-cake caper to the Goat Rogan Josh to the Zombie Apocalypse panel [wtf?!] to the sci-fi prom to Santiago's martinis to the scads of “that's NOT an overheard“ statements to the question of marginally- or fully-intoxicated assessments to all the incidents that will never actually surface on the internet [right?... RIGHT?!]... You rock my world in so many ways that I'm kind of verklempt just typing this.

~ And special thanks to:
1] The Maestro for taking care of HQ while I was gone, making my life here more beautiful and livable, despite his completely gig-ified weekend.

2] Paul Fischer who is tirelessly helpful, cheerful and understanding while totally herding cats.

and

3] Evo and Sheila for being great hosts and close friends who continually saved me from losing direction or simply losing it. [“Sheila, where is my large black bag?!” “Evo, how the hell do we get there?!” “Sheila, where is my black nail polish?!” “Evo, how off-topic was I?!” “Sheila, where is my small black bag?!”] I love you both dearly.

It's weekends like this that make the memories of having been a fringe kid a complete badge of honor. Here's to you, geek gods and goddesses of the podosphere. Long may you transmit.