Overactive Imagination, Inc.

Hello. Still around, still writing, still trying to keep body and soul together as I ride the roller coaster of stress that is my daily life.

Michael -- Doing well after having surgery this summer to implant a Baclofen pump and intrathecal catheter. We spent 5 days up at Oakland Children's Hospital. A nicer, more professional, more talented group of people you just can't find anywhere else. They rock!

John -- He's now 5'8", built like a linebacker, and he can pick up Chris. He turns 11 this month. We've taken to carrying a photocopy of his birth certificate with us when we go out to eat, to the movies, etc. Otherwise people simply do not believe that he's not a teenager.

Me -- Still playing psychopharmacology bingo, now that the insurance situation forced me to find a new psychiatrist after having been with my previous one for 5 years. Oh joy. The new guy is good, but I do get the feeling at times that he's never seen the like of me before. My life is just too bizarre, even given that I am a writer.

The Spousal Unit continues to be himself.

I'm off to Vashon Island next weekend for a 3 day visit with my spiritual father, Abbot Tryphon of the All-Merciful Saviour Russian Orthodox Monastery. I'm booked into a charming little bed and breakfast on the island, so I look forward to a mini vacation that will leave me spiritually and physically refreshed. I need it, especially as I plunge into the mad whirl that is the holiday prep season. Michael and I were making origami snowflakes tonight!

Hello and happy holidays! Yes, I'm still alive, much to the amazement of a number of people including myself. Life continues to be "Never a dull moment," which is what keeps me from posting here regularly. I often think about what I could say here, but it's been tricky to actually get myself to do it. I'm not sure why.

The first week of this month saw half of my house rewired by electricians. We'd been having problems with outlets spitting sparks and giving off the smell of burnt wiring. Expert scrutiny revealed that in the basement, quite a bit of wiring had been jury rigged with wire that was meant for phone use. It was a long way from being up to code for the voltage it was carrying. We've lived here more than 5 years. We're very lucky we haven't had a fire. Thank God.

I'm riding two horses right now, working on two books at once. My writing mind finally came back after 2 years of unrelenting crisis. Michael's godmother died in April after a short and terrible illness, Creuzfeld-Jacob Syndrome. The loss of this fine lady has left a large hole in my life. She was one of a kind, and at her funeral there was the largest crowd I have ever seen, including many of the children who had been part of her in-home daycare program. As we say in the Orthodox Church, memory eternal!

The kids are doing well. We're fighting a battle with the insurance company (as usual) to get Michael a baclofen pump. John is doing fine in school, and he towers over his classmates. He's only an inch shorter than I am, and the boy is just 10 years old! Puberty is fast approaching, and I live in fear of the day when John notices girls "that way." He's already a chick magnet because he's so sweet. He's the kind of guy who's cute and doesn't know it.

I wish you all a very merry Christmas, or whatever winter holiday you celebrate. May your New Year bring you all the happiness, relief, and peace of mind that will ease your sorrows and make life the adventure it should be.

Well, OK, I'm clearly going to speak about it, or I wouldn't have mentioned it here. I was on the road the other day, heading south on Highway 9 toward home after attending the anniversary celebration of San Jose's Japantown. (If you like taiko drumming, checking out San Jose Taiko. They kick some serious taiko tushie!) Oddly enough, I was riding shotgun with none other than my usual partner in crime, Pat MacEwen. The family sedan was having a hard time chugging up the incline, but we were still making better time than the horrible monstrosity that suddenly loomed up before us in the slow lane.

Brace yourselves, folks. Put down those drinks, swallow carefully, and get ready. What did we see before us, which traumatized us beyond any previously observed vehicular aberration?

Three words:

PINK

STRETCH

HUMMER

As if that wasn't enough to cause all kinds of collisions right there due to rubber-necking out of sheer disbelief, the Hot Pink Hummer from Hell was occupied by at least three underage over-painted gleeful little Barbie dolls. Pat swears one of them was wearing a tiara. Now I ask you, given that we're fighting a really stupid "war" over skyrocketing oil prices, who in their right mind would go out on the open road in a vehicle that so clearly can't manage the gas mileage of an arthritic turtle?

The sight of this gaudy hunk of transportation was so offensive on so many levels I sat there spluttering for a good five minutes before I could get my thoughts sorted out enough to launch into a suitable rant. Tasteless. Pointless. Blatantly self-indulgent. I could go on and on. What really frosted me was the sure knowledge that the Mommy or Daddy of one or more of the Barbie dolls inside had paid for the rental of the massive pink monster. Probably pocket change to that sort, which makes it all the more infuriating.

Honest to God, people. What are we coming to when somebody would build a vehicle like that, paint it that color, and then offer to rent it out to people with too much time and money and nowhere near enough class??? How many resource wars are we going to have to keep on fighting just to pay for this kind of self-indulgence?

Last night at 10 p.m., my dear friend and Michael's godmother died. She was surrounded by family, with her parish priest present reading Scripture. Despite the terrible swiftness of the disease that struck her down, she had a blessed ending. For that I am most thankful to God.

April 27 was Eastern Orthodox Easter, or Pascha as we call it. This week we call "Bright Week." The gates of Heaven stand open in the wake of Christ's Resurrection and His deliverance of the righteous from the depths of Hades. We consider this a good time to die. We prefer the term "falling asleep in the Lord," because thanks to Christ's Resurrection, "He destroyed death by death." It doesn't make the loss of such a wonderful woman any less traumatic or distressing, but it does bring comfort. I'll miss her so much, on all of the occasions that I would have shared with her. By God's grace, one day we'll be reunited in Heaven.

Bonnie Prescop, called Magdalena after her patron saint. May you rest in the peace you so surely deserve, the peace you brought to so many of us through your kindness, generosity, and warmth of spirit.

It's so strange how life can be going along one way, relatively calm and maybe even enjoyable, then WHAM! Disaster strikes. Events can change in the space of a second. I know I'm not saying anything anybody doesn't already realize, but lately my life has been even more of an emotional rollercoaster than usual.

The Ups: A good friend of mine staged a jail break and got me out of the house one Tuesday morning so we could go up to San Francisco to the Asian Art Museum. Through May 4 there's an exhibit of ukiyo-e scroll paintings from Japan. Most are from the mid to late 18th Century, and they're gorgeous. The "floating world" as it's referred to is of great interest to me in my ongoing study of Japanese culture and history. The scrolls make a definite distinction between the courtesans and the geisha. There's one really striking scroll that shows an onnagata, a male performer who specializes in playing women's roles, wearing a red lion dancer wig and carrying peonies in reference to a common motif in the more religious scrolls. It's a fabulous exhibit and I urge everybody who can get there to see it.

While we were on the way home, my friend cleverly brought the conversation around to the subject of whether or not I enjoy concerts, live performances, etc. I do, to the extent of even seeing opera when one of my favorites is being performed. Turns out my friend had two extra tickets to the Bon Jovi concert in San Jose for the upcoming week. Did I want to go? Well, my friends, my reaction almost made my poor friend drive off the road. Did I want to go? Hell yes! I've been a fan of Bon Jovi since my high school days so many years ago. I'd been mooning about for a week prior to this, thinking about the concert and how Chris had offered to get me tickets back in January. I hadn't wanted to spend so much money on myself right after Christmas, so I declined. And now two tickets fell from Heaven right into my lap! Woo hoo!

The show was terrific, just as one would expect from Bon Jovi. The opening act was Daughtry, a band I didn't know but one that I will now recommend. Riding shotgun on this adventure was my usual partner in crime, Pat. It's not often she and I go out just for fun. We're usually doing something that we hope will advance our careers. This time it was all out entertainment, including the couple in front of us who were so wasted I seriously doubt they remembered much of the concert the next morning. They were happy people, so it was all good.

The Downs: A very close friend of mine, Michael's godmother, has been diagnosed with Creutzfeld-Jakob Disease, an extremely rare condition that is more commonly referred to as "mad cow" disease. It's horrible, attacking the brain, moving very fast, and invariably fatal. My dear friend has already lost a great deal of her motor skills and intellectual functioning, and this over the course of just two months. This is such a gut-wrenching tragedy I can't begin to explain how big a hole it will leave in so many people's lives. This woman was there for me the night Michael was born, and the night he almost died. She was there for me when I lost my first son. She's been there for a lot of people at moments of great trial and grief.

She's only 54. This time next year she will be gone. She and her husband have been throwing the great big Pascha celebration at their house every Easter for the last 20 years. No more. This is the end of an era in so many many ways. Please God, have mercy on Magdalena, and save her from the worst of this terrible disease. Grant her peace, and forgiveness, and let her go to Heaven when it's time.

On Friday night something truly amazing happened. It was so wonderful it made me genuinely happy in a way I haven't felt in ages. I think it had a rather powerful effect on a few other people as well, both adults and children.

Michael and I went dancing.

That's right, my soon-to-be 12 year old son, the one in the wheelchair, and Yours Truly went to the Mother/Son Rock of the '80s dance held at Michael's junior high school. People were encouraged to dress '80s, so for me it was just like being back at one of my high school dances. The boys were a whole lot shorter than the girls at this dance, since the age gap was so much wider. The dance committee provided glow bracelets, which the kids promptly connected into rings and threw up in the air right and left. It looked like we had a swarm of small flying saucers buzzing around overhead.

I took Michael out onto one of the less crowded parts of the dance floor. After one or two songs he got over the initial shock of the noise volume and started to get into it. We play a game we call "Push, Pull" where he holds onto my hand and extends his arm (the Push), then pulls back again (the Pull). We play this while he's sitting in his wheelchair with the brakes off so he can move back and forth. That worked very well with me moving back and forth in counterpoint. One song, "You Spin Me Right 'Round Baby," was just made for us to go round and round in circles together. Michael started laughing at one point. A friend of ours, who is also John's after school aide, was kind enough to drive us to the dance. She also took some photos of us with a disposable flash camera. I hope the pictures come out. Just in case they didn't, we paid for photos taken by the professional photographer the dance committee had lined up. That was a nice idea. Mother/Son events aren't that common these days.

We did raise a few eyebrows and draw more than a few stares. Two different kids wanted to know "what happened" to Michael. When kids ask, and they sometimes do, I tell them Michael was born too early, so he was too little at first. Because of that his legs don't work right. Given the particular situation at the dance, I went on to say Michael was fine, and he loves music, so he was having a great time at the dance. The head of the dance committee found us out on the dance floor and asked to take our photo with his digital camera. He was really pleased that Michael came to the dance. It was truly a night to remember, for all kinds of good reasons.

Hi there. Me again. Yes, I am still stumbling along through the many crises and bouts of hysteria that make up my life. The kids are healthy. John managed to finish his solar system project on time, which included a poster board diagram of the solar system fully labeled, a moon journal, and a report on his assigned planet, which was Saturn. God bless his one to one classroom aide, along with his two afternoon aides. My mother has been really sick for over a week now, so I've been mostly on my own. It's been a while since I've had to do the whole domestic goddess thing myself. I hate doing my own housework. There's a motivator for hitting the bestseller list. I can afford to have someone else do my dishes.

The good news is my partner in crime Pat MacEwen had another brainstorm that will result in the two of us overhauling the first historical romance novel I wrote and making it into Something Else. Something that I think has serious potential. That's what I love about Pat. I might crank out something that seemed like a good idea at the time, then lose faith in it. Pat will figure out some brilliant way of taking what I've created and spinning it so it has some fresh, new, and above all marketable angle to it.

Last year was absolutely abysmal for my professional productivity due to personal disasters and two really mind-boggling alterations in my inner and outer status quo. Why is it that writers lead such bizarre lives? Do we go looking for trouble? (Yes.) Does trouble come looking for us? (Yes.) What's the deal? My mother once said to me back when I was a teenager that I had to be destined for greatness as a writer because my life was just as messed up as so many of my idols. That's Mom for you. She means well, but it tends to come out sounding backhanded.

Last time I mentioned ALIA5 wanted a story from me. I chose what I consider to be my best unsold fantasy story. Davide Mann, the English language editor there, loved it. He said it was perfect for ALIA. So I'm a happy camper. Now if I can just get a stranglehold on my time management skills around here and actually start cranking out the pages, I might get that Japanese historical novel completed before WorldCon along with making progress on Pat's brainstorm. Wish me luck!

It's true. I had to read the e-mail two or three times to believe it.

I have been invited to contribute a story to the trilingual SF magazine ALIA: The Archipelago of the Fantastic. Each edition of the magazine is made up of a volume that contains stories in Japanese, one in Italian, and a third in English. Go here to learn more:

ALIA site

When I was in Yokohama for Nippon2007, I was luck enough to meet a delightful man by the name of Massimo Soumare. An Italian from Torino, he translates Japanese SF fiction into Italian and vice versa. He was a participant on some of the more scholarly panels. (Once again, I tell myself I'm going to learn to speak and read Japanese. Oh yes, I reply, in my copious spare time, no doubt!) Massimo is one of the three editors of ALIA. He was kind enough to contact me and extend to me this most gracious invitation. I accepted. Oh baby, did I accept!

Life has been pretty grim lately. Between being sick and this endless rain we've been having, along with the kids having their health problems, I have not been the happiest camper on God's green earth. Then, into my e-mail box fell this ray of sunshine. Bless you, Massimo, for your kindness. You have done me more good than you know.

Sigh.... The news on the Michael front is not happy these days. His seizure medications, all 3 of them, aren't keeping the seizures under control. He's now having 3 different kinds of seizures, which is a new and unpleasant development. The neurologist thinks we may have to switch to a ketogenic diet, which can be fed to Michael via his enteral feeding system. Cold comfort. So today we took him to the nutritionist who works out of the gastroenterologist's office. Got a new set of guidelines which will require me to re-learn the routine I've been following around here every morning for a few years now. Argh. I'm not a morning person, so once I get my auto-pilot set properly, it's kind of a drag to have to reprogram it. While I'm happy to make any adjustment for Michael, this adds to my stress by making me watch myself even more compulsively than I do anyway, just so I don't screw something up.

Michael's muscle spasms in his legs are getting worse, making it difficult to change his diapers, to put him into his wheelchair, and move him around in general. He's taller than I am now, weighs over 115 lbs., and is remarkably strong. If he startles at the wrong moment, I'm at risk for what martial artists call a backfist right upside the head, or I might catch a knee in the ear. That happened last week and left my head ringing for minutes. Of course, the poor kid can't help any of it. That doesn't make any of it any less hazardous to his caregivers. More to the point, Michael is in more and more pain. Two days last week his teacher called us to come take him home because he was in so much distress and there was nothing anybody could do to calm him down. As soon as we showed up and loaded him in the van, he was OK. Still a bit distressed, but much more himself. That tells me there's an emotional component here, which is the hardest aspect to pinpoint given Michael's communication difficulties.

And then on Thursday we got a phone call from the county nurse, who said Michael's teacher had called her to say Michael had dislocated his elbow. Should she call 911? Hell yes, we said! After about two hours and almost constant phone calls later, Chris called me to say our favorite physician's assistant at Dominican ER said there was no dislocation anywhere, the x rays showed no fractures or bone problems of any kind, so as far as he could tell, it had to be something muscular like a pull or a strain. My relief over that news was balanced by my desire to go have a very loud and pointed chat with Michael's teacher. Apparently the EMTs who answered the 911 call said there was no dislocation. I really wish somebody had called us sooner and told us so! Not that Chris wouldn't have been down there in a heartbeat anyway, but it would have saved me serious anguish. Why I didn't ride shotgun has to do with my own health problems, which I won't go into right now.

My poor child. I ask myself how much longer he has to go on enduring this kind of thing, but I know that's a foolish question. All we can do is keep him as comfortable as possible from one day to the next and pray that the big potential problems don't actually appear.

Here I am, back again after a long absence. There's good news and some really funny news. The good news is pretty darn good. My neck is healing, I'm seeing my chiropractor, and we're doing all we can to hold back the problems of advanced aging. The really really good news came when I went to see my neurosurgeon about my lower back. A fresh MRI showed that matters hadn't changed much since the original injury 4 years ago. "Broad protrustions with some narrowing" is the official diagnosis. Well gee, if that ain't just me all over! Fortunately, my neurosurgeon thinks I am NOT a candidate for lumbar surgery, and that even if we did go ahead with it, I'd receive only marginal benefits compared to six months of agony while I recovered.

No more agony, please. I think I'm over my quota already.

What am I to do to treat my lower back problem? Well, the pain patch I wear just isn't enough. That only masks the pain without treating the problem. So I'm supposed to lose weight (of course), do the lower back exercises the chiropractor prescribes, and one more little item that had me laughing so hard I almost injured myself all over again. Apparently I get to call our in-network durable medical equipment supplier with a most entertaining request.

I have to get fitted for a corset.

I'm familiar with bodices from my Ren Faire days, but a corset is something that happens to other women, usually at conventions. When I called my husband after I left the neurosurgeon's office to tell him no surgery, I mentioned the whole corset idea. Chris also busted up laughing, then promptly asked, "Frederick's or Victoria's Secret?" Nope, no black lace and rhinestones here, more like black velcro and those nasty little buckles that will pinch your fingers if you're not careful. One thing I'm wondering. What's the difference between a corset and a truss? The shoulder straps?

Oh man. October taught me a very important lesson. Never attempt to do two cons in the same month, especially when that month includes a major holiday.

First, SiliCon. I ended up acting as Party Maven for the Skull & Bones party three of us threw for Pat MacEwen to celebrate her being on the very brink of completing her Masters in Physical Anthropology. I also had a few panels to do, so between life on the home front, still recovering from Yokohama, prepping for the con, and doing the party shopping, I was going in too many directions at once. Then there's the matter of trying to re-establish my regular writing regimen, which keeps getting away from me. Bad me.

SiliCon was a lot of fun. This year had a mix of movie people in with the literary types and the comics folks. Horror movies, given the nature of the month, with casts and crews on hand to talk about their productions. I didn't make it to much of that due to either being on panels at the same time or busy rushing around doing party prep. I did meet a lot of really cool people and made some new friends. The party itself was a huge success. We did a lot of the same things we did for the party we threw to celebrate the publication of Ship of Dreams, with games and decorations and several sheets of butcher paper on one wall where people could "Write Your Own Epitaph." We were immensely pleased to see Phil Ortiz, one of the artists for "The Simpsons," had stopped by and drew a sketch of Homer Simpson saying, "I have no regrets...other than seeing the last Matrix movie." That made a terrific souvenir of the party for Pat. She doesn't get enough credit for everything she knows about, so the three of us behind the party were more than happy to lead the applause.

Convention #2 was Yaoi-Con. I heard about this con from the Programming Director at FanimeCon. I'd been talking to him about being on their Programming in 2008. He suggested I take a walk down to the Dealer's Room and introduce myself to the folks who run Yaoi-Con since they'd be interested in having more writer-oriented programming. I followed up on that, which led me to the Yaoi-Con Website. There was a link there for suggesting panel topics. I came up with two, and the con committee accepted them. So on Sat. morning I gave a one person show re "Writing Romance: Turning Sex Scenes into Love Scenes," and on Sun. morning the topic was "Creating the Original Character." Had a good turnout for both panels. Those Yaoi-Con people are a lot of fun. When I mentioned that this was my first time at Yaoi-Con, one audience burst into applause. I sold a few copies of my novel, and I had people coming up to me throughout the con saying nice things or asking questions about writing. The Cosplay Contest was an absolute scream, led off by some AMVs that had me laughing so hard I was crying. Yaoi-Con is on the small side, but it's got a lot going for it, especially with so much publisher money behind it. I'm already brainstorming for next year's panel suggestions.

And what would October be without Halloween? The boys made out like bandits this year. John was all fired up to go out dressed like a pirate. Michael made it clear that he wanted in on the fun too. He even managed to buy himself his own costume! His class goes out for Friday Fun Days to practice their independent living skills. While he was out one Friday, he and his aide picked up a skeleton costume. I got him the gloves and the mask to go with it, even though he won't wear hats or headbands or anything like that. I even found a black trick or treat bucket with a skull and bone motif. Our next door neighbor brought treat bags over for the kids that included stuffed toys as well as candy. Then of course each class had its own Halloween party, resulting in more treat bags. And then Chris took Michael and John down to the Santa Cruz Wharf for the Costume Parade and trick or treating there. The boys had a blast while I stayed home and nursed my latest physical problem (left foot doubled in size due to a spider bite or something similar). I had my share of fun playing on Gaia and nabbing some of the special holiday items.

Never again, though. No doing two cons in the same month when we've got all the usual doctor appointments and therapy issues and x rays for me and God knows what else. As the great Dirty Harry once said, "A man's got to know his limitations." Same goes for me!

I filled up three disposable cameras while I was on the loose in Yokohama. Chris told me I should have taken the digital camera with me, but I didn't want to have to worry about keeping the battery charged. All three rolls are back from the developer, complete with photo CDs. I dashed on over to Flickr and uploaded the highlights of the seventy-odd shots I took. You can see my photos here:

Nippon 2007 photos

One of my most entertaining moments in cross-cultural contact came when I met the charming fellow named Shion-san who was cosplaying as Sesshomarou from Inuyasha. This guy had every detail nailed, with the exception of Sesshomarou's whacking big sword. I was in the dealer's room when I first saw him. My jaw dropped, my eyes bugged out, and I exclaimed, "Sesshomarou!" in my best breathy fangirl voice. Shion-san struck a pose and said, "You know Sesshomarou?" I walked all around him, checking out the colors and patterns on his sleeves and hakama. Oh wow. Fortunately, there was a Japanese lady volunteer nearby who spoke enough English to help me talk to Shion-san, who didn't actually speak much English. The nice lady took my photo with Sesshomarou and explained to Shion-san just how wonderful I thought he looked. This pleased Shion-san to no end, so much so that in the course of our conversation he hugged me FOUR times! That is just unheard of for a Japanese male in public. All I can figure is that he was so delighted this American woman recognized him for who and what he was.

I asked the volunteer if she could tell me Shion-san's real name so I could address him properly. She put the question to him and he dug in one sleeve for his name card. While I was fishing out one of mine, the volunteer leaned over to me and whispered, "I can't tell if it's man or woman." I assured her it was a man. She looked at me as if to ask how I could tell. I didn't go into the details of how and why a person from the San Francisco Bay Area learns how to tell the difference when looking at someone done up in elaborate costume and makeup. Part of it is just going to conventions, and part of it is the culture of the Bay Area!

I hope Shion-san won at least a hall costume ribbon. He was truly spectacular.

Got this from the_ogre and thought I'd include it here, since it's germane to my ongoing Trip Report about Japan. This shows where I've been in the world, which apparently amounts to only 3% of everywhere I could go. Sigh.... So many places I need to get to before I cash in my chips for good!



create your own visited countries map


Let's see, where was I.... Oh yes. Solving the great ATM problem in Yokohama. Pat and I were more than a little concerned about our complete lack of connection to our travel funds. The hostel was already paid for, but the souvenirs weren't, and there were folks back home for whom we really really wanted to get some nice gifts. The morning of my departure, John left to catch the school bus with this comment as his farewell: "Bye, Mommy! Have fun in Japan! Bring home all three Totoro toys!" When my eight year old son who has autism and speech delay makes a request that clearly, you can be sure I'm damn well going to move heaven and earth to fulfill it.

During the course of the convention day, we were commiserating with other folks such as danjite and khaybee who were suffering from the same lack of technological certitude re the ATMs. One of the folks who lent us a shoulder to babble on was Gale, the lovely lady who is married to G. David Nordley. She was kind enough to swap us some yen for some of the USD I had on me, which gave us some breathing room as far as money for transportation and food until we could hunt down a post office and give those machines a go. God bless you, Gale, and please forgive me for never remembering your own last name or the right way to spell your first.

After our con duties had been handled (and yes, I will talk about the actual convention at some point), Pat and I got out the Yokohama city map and began the hike toward the nearest post office. (At least we were under the impression it was the closest. Turns out there was another much closer than where we ended up, but we weren't to know that for another two days.) First we hiked through the Queen's Square shopping center, big and gorgeous and spotless as all Japanese shopping malls seem to be. Through a little central plaza that featured this enormous metal sculpture that looked like Geiger's idea of a rollercoaster. Huge and twisted and just the idea of riding on it could bring on vertigo and nausea. Onward through the Landmark Tower, the tallest skyscraper in Japan, home of the Moe Garden, which is dedicated to all things Studio Ghibli. Yes, this was indeed the "Totoro store"! John's needs would be met. We took all three sections of the moving walkway and admired the view of that stunning ferris wheel along with the Nippon Maru, a vessel whose masts and rigging made me crow with delight. We kept going, past the Cross Gate building, then on a diagonal that brought us to an office building. I had the sense to ask the attendant on duty where the post office was, and he showed us around the corner to the elevator and pressed "3" for us. Up to this point no one had said the post office was on the third floor. Thank God the Japanese are ready for wandering gaijin in need of assistance.

There, in the post office, we found ATM machines. Pat said a prayer to St. Thomas Moore and I said one to the Most Holy Theotokos, the Mother of God. With great solemnity we put our cards in the machines. Hallelujah! We were rewarded with a maximum of 10,000 yen per transaction. We both took out a healthy chunk of our respective budgets, kept our expressions of gratitude to Heaven quiet and restrained, and then we began the long trek back to the conference center. On the way through Queen's Square, we dropped down to the first floor where all the restaurants are and decided on Anna Miller's, which happens to be the location for the manga Tokyo Babylon. Our adventures there merit their own entry.

So there we were, down to our last 2000 yen and change, trudging through the rainy streets of Yokohama trying desperately to find a 7-11....

Sounds like the start of some noirish nuclear winter-type SF movie, no? Oddly enough, many of my adventures with Pat take on that appearance at some point or another. Could be just me, could be just Pat, but more than likely it's the universe reacting to the combination of the two of us joining forces to take on whatever we've gotten ourselves into this time around.

In this case, we were trying to get our ATM cards to work in the machines we'd been assured would indeed accept them. Both Pat and I had called our banks before we left the country to let them know that yes, it really was us way over there in Japan trying to get money out of our accounts. Please do not freeze the card or we will be reduced to standing in the train station singing for our suppers, which might get Pat dinner money but would only get Lillian arrested. Indecent exposure of the vocal cords, creating a public nuisance, you name it. At one time I could play an instrument. At another time I made money as a dancer. These days I've gone pro with my writing. Don't know if I'm any good as a painter, but I definitely know I cannot sing. Just as the Spousal Unit. His pained expression says it all.

We set out from our hostel on a drizzly morning, going in exactly the wrong direction according to the directions given to us by the hostel staff. (In all fairness, they did point us to a convenience store with a red and green sign, but it was not a 7-11.) No ATM at all was to be had there. The nice man inside caught the gist of my broken Japanese and pointed us toward the actual 7-11. We made our first stop at the Lawson's which was to become the first place we hit in the mornings for breakfast food and some munchies to tuck into our bags. Lawson's had an ATM with English help on it, but it wouldn't take either of our cards. Drat.

So we parked ourselves on a nearby set of stairs to eat our meal and contemplate the flow of morning foot traffic as it headed toward Ishikawa-cho Station. We made something of a spectacle ourselves, I'm sure. I've read several places that one does not eat or drink while walking around in Japan, so that's why we found seats. I'm happy to say that Japanese "conbens" (short for convenience stores) supply you with chopsticks and toothpick sets, towelettes, and paper napkins along with heating up your entree if you so desire. That kept us from making more of a mess of ourselves than we might have otherwise.

When we finally found the 7-11, after two more bouts of asking locals for help, our hopes were shattered when once again our cards were rejected as invalid. Pat had spotted a bank back up the street a ways, so off we went again. The bank couldn't help us either!!! Our cards were rejected, and neither could the bank take the $50 USD I had on me and give us yen for it. This was getting to be a really serious situation. By now we had to make a run for the convention center so we wouldn't be late for our first panel assignments.

Tomorrow: Temporary Hope, then Salvation at the Post Office

...or, What Happened When I Delivered Frank's Uber-Cool Hugo Award.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen and other civilized beings, I was there at ground zero when frankwu first laid hands on his very own Ultraman Hugo Award. I made a big deal out of it, as well I should, ascending upward through the increasingly delightful elements of his victory:

First, the "headshots" (for lack of a more precise word) of Frank, carried round at Nippon 2007 by danjite and khaybee in the absence of the Man Himself. I presented the clean version with its Hugo Nominee ribbon attached, complete with the Japanese version of what Frank would very likely have said in his acceptance speech stuck on the back where khaybee could read it when she held it up. Then I gave Frank the one that Yoshitaka Amano, Artist GoH, drew all over. That one had him laughing in even greater delight. Next came the splendid red rosette with its trailing red and white ribbons, announcing Frank's particular victory. And the little silver rocket pin, his third, which I must admit I coveted in a big way.

The time had come for the box itself which had housed Frank's award during its transfer to my keeping, its resting place in my hostel room, and its journey from that corner of Yokohama all the way across the Pacific Ocean to my humble living room, where I did my best to present the Hugo to Frank with all appropriate pomp and circumstance. Once Frank got all the bubble wrap out of the way, he looked like a kid who'd just had his faith in Santa Claus restored. Oh, was he happy! I've never seen that grin quite so broad or bright. The refrain of the evening became, "This is so cool!"

I offered Frank his choice of places to celebrate his triumph with a suitable feast. There was my favorite Chinese place only about 10 minutes away, which he had visited with me once before, or we could go to Takara, the Japanese restaurant in Capitola. Frank opted for the Chinese place, as much out of a desire to see the people who work there, all friends of mine, as to eat the really excellent Chinese/Vietnamese food they serve. Fortunately, this was Friday night, so everybody was there, the owner and his brother, the head chef, and Tommy, my favorite waiter and one of my closest male friends. (Side note: All my best male friends seem to be Chinese. There's Frank, and Tommy, and a remarkable man named Lancelot Chan who lives in Hong Kong. I hadn't realized this until now.)

In his typically modest and straightforward way, Frank answered all the questions about his remarkable trophy. I've got to add that he was grinning like a Chinese Cheshire Cat all the while. Tommy told us he was a big fan of Ultraman when he was little and still lived in Hong Kong, so much so that he had a collection of the whole Ultraman family. He had no idea what it would be worth some day to collectors, so when he lost interest he threw the collection away. Watching Tommy and Frank trade memories about the show, the various incarnations of Ultraman, and all the great bad guys made me even happier for Frank. Everywhere he goes, he gets along with people so well. It's a true gift.

When Tommy mentioned that his girlfriend had gone to China to visit her family, whom she hadn't seen in four years, Frank started teasing Tommy good-naturedly, ragging on him about why he hadn't gone with her to meet her parents. I can't get away with picking on Tommy like that because I'm a woman, and a white girl at that. To see another Chinese man giving Tommy a hard time about doing right by his potential future maybe fiancee was just priceless. Tommy has a good time teasing me when I'm at the restaurant, although he never does it in front of Chris. Tommy doesn't say much at all when Chris is around. I once called Tommy on the fact that when there are some customers around who are annoying, Tommy and the other waiters will drop back into heavier accents that imply they don't speak much English. Tommy denies it, but he does so with a smile.

After dinner we splurged on ice cream at Baskin Robbins, then I helped Frank take photos of himself with all three of his Hugos. Oh, didn't I mention that Frank brought over the other two he'd previously won? Indeed he did, and we used his cell phone camera function to get some good shots of his well-earned loot. If we said it once, we said it a dozen times:

"This is SO cool!"

Pat and I were on our way to the Lawson's just up the street from our hostel when we happened to spot the local koban, or police box. I'd been looking forward to seeing one of these, having read about them in both fiction and nonfiction about Japan. Sad to say, this one was a disappointment. The windows were filthy with the kind of long term yellowed grime that bespoke long term neglect. The officer on duty wasn't there. A large green banner apparently told the inquiring public that he was out walking or cycling his beat.

I found this out thanks to the elderly man who walked up to us as we stood there contemplating the koban. Pat was kicking herself for not having thought to bring some patches from her old Stockton P.D. uniforms. She tells me it's a custom among police officers from different jurisdictions to trade patches. The elderly gentleman approached us and asked if we were trying to find a particular place. That would be the usual reason for two gaijin to be loitering in front of a koban. Many times I've read the advice to travelers which says if you're lost, go find the local koban and ask the officer on duty how to find your destination. We had quite a nice talk with Suzuki-san. He apologized for his English, which he learned at a Catholic school. There was something about learning English from priests that really amused him. I never quite understood why he thought that was so funny. I would guess it has a lot to do with the priests he was recalling.

Once Pat volunteered the information that her cousin had once played for the Lions, things got even friendlier. We explained why we were in Japan, and Suzuki-san wished us well. This is but one example of how nice, friendly, helpful and generally entertaining the Japanese folks we met could be. On another morning, as we hiked toward our breakfast, another man stepped out of a doorway and greeted us, asking if we were American. In these perilous times, that's a touchy question, but in Japan we're OK. When we admitted we were, he gave us a bright smile and welcomed us to Japan. That was really nice. Despite the sign in the hostel that warned us not to take photos in our neighborhood, we found the people out on the streets and in the little convenience stores to be very kind. Tomorrow I'll talk about the Great ATM Hunt, but for now let me bless the very kind young lady at the Lawson's who tried so hard to understand me and to help us fix our money problem. I don't think we ever did achieve a meeting of the minds, but that's OK. I really appreciated her patience.

Tomorrow, hunting for money in the Land of the Rising Sun.

I have returned from nippon2007, a thoroughly delightful adventure into meeting writers, artists, SMOFs, fans, and all kinds of other folks in that wonderful place called Japan. I had a blast. Even if it was pouring rain when we finally hit the Yokohama Train Station. Even if finding our out-of-the-way hideout, the Yokohama Hostel Village, was a real challenge for the taxi driver lucky enough to be first in line when we stepped up. "We" consisted of me and Patricia H. MacEwen, my writing collaborator and general partner in crime. Neither of us are on the petite side, so once we'd checked in and hauled our bags up the five flights of stairs, we viewed with some misgivings the walk-in closet that was to be our base of operations for the next several days. As it turned out, once we unpacked, found a spot for our respective necessaries, then stowed my big suitcase at the front desk, we were still rather snug but on the whole comfortable. The humidity and dampness from the typhoon made for sticky sleeping, but we soon adjusted as the weather improved.

I have many stories to tell of all the little moments that made the trip so great, along with some whopping big moments too. I had been deputized to bring home frankwu's Hugo if he once again bagged the award for Best Fan Artist. He did so, much to the whooping, screaming, roaring delight of fans from all over the world. I'm not kidding. danjite and khaybee were on hand to accept on Frank's behalf, and what happened to them on the 6th Floor (the party floor) while they were toting said Hugo around must surely go down in convention history. If they don't tell the story in their blogs, then I'll have a go at it. I've sent word to Frank that I am in full possession of said Hugo and all attendant regalia, so as soon as he can come on over to my house I'll take him out to dinner and give him the majestic piece of metal sculpture. Oh, the looks on the faces of the airport security people when this Hugo went past their scanners! It made getting my luggage examined over and over again almost worthwhile.

For anybody worried about my neck, I did just fine as long as I kept my neck brace on during the day. That was a real challenge in the humidity, but I discovered that if I left it off, by the afternoon I'd start to feel some aches and pains in the sides of my neck. Not good. People did ask about it, and I even ended up explaining the whole situation to none other than Larry Niven himself. I did have one problem with the brace. Nobody told me I was supposed to take it off and send it through the x ray machine with everything else. So I wore it through the metal detector and promptly got sidelined for a security check. The nice Japanese lady wiped my brace and hands down with those paper circles they use to check for explosives residue. Nothing turned up, of course, so I was on my way. During the return trip, I kept the brace in my carry-on, which means I forgot to put it on for the flight home. I kept dozing off, but once Pat let me put my pillow on her shoulder and lean on her I didn't get such a crick in my neck.

More adventures tomorrow!

A very good friend of mine in Hong Kong tells me that the Buddhists believe now is the time when the Hell Gate has opened. Boy, do I ever believe that. I don't know how that ties into the Japanese Obon Festival, but there's probably some relationship. I like the Shinto idea of the spirits of the dead riding back to our world via dragonflies. Nice image. Must be tough to get a bug taxi these days given how the industrial buildup in Japan has made the fresh, unpolluted water dragonflies need for breeding grounds more and more rare.

Two weeks ago I had surgery. Wasn't the first time, won't be the last. I had three disks in my neck thinning to the point of causing me serious trouble with my right arm. Pain, weakness, and loss of dexterity that was progressing at what turned out to be a really alarming rate. My chiropractor spotted the bone spurs on the X rays he took. He sent me to my family doctor with the strong recommendation that I get an MRI done. The doc agreed, and the results prompted him to send me to a neurosurgeon. At first we thought maybe a rheumatologist would be in order, but no. Time to go straight for the serious intervention. And so I suddenly found myself looking at MRI shots of my cervical vertebrae, which I've got to tell you made me feel worse than naked. There's something too damn REAL about seeing your own insides.

So one week later I made the decision to have the surgery done before going to Nippon 2007. Originally I didn't want to risk a recovery time that would screw up my dream vacation, but then I found out just how bad my right arm was getting. Now I've got what looks like a little titanium ladder affixed to the vertebrae that surround my newly replaced disks from C4-5, C5-6, and C6-7. Titanium screws, too. Should be 8, but the surgeon could only get 7 to really sink into the bone. Yes, I now officially have one screw missing. Instead of being screwed, I am now UNscrewed.

Pain. Pain pain pain. OMG, I can't tell you what the first 12 hours in the ICU were like. I've been through one miscarriage and two C sections along with various other procedures, so I'm no amateur when it comes to post-surgical pain. Thank God for the people at O'Connor Hospital in San Jose, who have a very supportive attitude about pain management.

A bunch of other really annoying but mostly minor spooky shit has been going on lately, but I'll let that go for now. I'm better, I'm hurting less, and I think my right arm will be OK. We got to it in time to avoid serious loss of function.

Japan, here I come! Gambatte, baby!

Here I am, back from yet another stretch of silence due to the generally miserable nature of my daily existence. Why don't I post more often? Because it's bad enough having to live through it all once much less inflict it all on my friends. But wait! Today is different! Today I have not one but THREE pieces of good news to announce.

First, I am delighted to say that not only will I be attending Nippon 2007, I will be a Programming participant on no less than five different panels. This makes me very very happy. A trip to the country on top of my Must See list, a WorldCon there, and now this. Domo arigato, Fong-san!

Second, I got a letter from my publisher today letting me know that the foreign language rights on SHIP OF DREAMS have sold to Droemer, so my pirate romance will soon be available in German! This is another career milestone for me. Break out the beer and polka music!

And third.... I went to Fanime this year on a lark because a good friend who doesn't know much about the world of anime and manga asked me to go along as her tour guide. Whoa, what a blast! The dealer's room there showed me just how big the audience base for yaoi really is. One thing led to another and the Goddess of Shameless Self-Promotion did it again. I ran two panel ideas past the con organizers via their Web site. They accepted them, and now I'm slated to be a guest speaker at Yaoi-Con in late October. This promises to be an adventure into a whole new world of literary tastes and fandom styles. You know me. I'm always up for going somewhere new!

Despite all of the domestic upheaval taking place this week, I am in fact making some kind of progress in various areas of my benighted life. Today I am happy to report that I have secured my membership for Nippon 2007. I've got my room reservations nailed down, now the membership, and Chris is working on the plane tickets.

It's really happening. I'm going to Japan.

In the category of Dreams Come True, this is definitely in the Top Five. When I get to Yokohama and get all settled in and hooked up with the con and ready to Do That Pro Thang, I'm going to see if there's any time in my schedule for taking an overnight bus trip to Kyoto. There's something I very much want to do in Kyoto.

I want to find the gravesite of Saito Hajime , Captain of the Third Troop of the Shinsengumi. When I do, I'm going to pay my respects in the form of a bottle of really good sake and (in homage to the Saito Hajime recreated by Watsuki Nobuhiro in the outstanding manga Rurouni Kenshin ) a pack of top quality cigarettes.

Why do I want to do this? I could go into all the details, but I can easily sum it up by saying just this: Saito Hajime is cool. He's one of the most fascinating historical figures I've come across, and since I write historical fiction for a living, I've waded through a whole lot of people and their noteworthy exploits. Saito Hajime is way cool!