Recovery (Conned Pt 2)

I’m still coming down from GearCon.

I’m still processing all the lovely experiences, and smiling over all the new faces. I’m getting back to my usual eating schedule and I’m working out again. Less mall food, more fruit and eggs and garden veggies. Less people, more down time. Kind of. Kind of more down time.

Weekends like the one I just experienced, it’s really easy for me to over-people. I’ve addressed, I think, how introverted I am. It’s not that I hate people. To the contrary, I love them. I just don’t get the same energy boost from them that others do. But, the flip side of that is the immense amount of creative energy I draw from cons and other big events. I come away sick to death of people but full of all the ideas for all the things I want to make or do.

I had a lovely Fourth of July. We had our usual day of grilled food and good company and lots of fireworks. We broke in the new front yard fire pit. My kids made some new friends. The next morning, we got up and got the kids packed and we put on our fancy clothes. They went to their grandparents’ house for the weekend, and we picked up Velah and headed to the con.

And we hit the ground running.

Coffee at Lloyd Center. A wander around the vendor’s hall. Sabre class. A costuming workshop – which was hosted by a former partner of my husband’s and resulted in a search for the lovely lady herself. A sewing workshop. Somewhere in there, we ate lunch. After the sewing workshop, we went back to Lloyd Center for dinner. A magic and variety show. Home again, home again, jiggety jig.  Up early on Saturday, dressed and out the door. Pick up Velah and get there in time for a panel on prostitution in the Victorian age. Demo of a Tesla coil in the main ballroom afterward. Lunch with a bunch of other Steampunks at Lloyd Center. Back just in time for the fashion show and a chance to fill my notebook with sketches and ideas. An hour of wandering around and goofing off and Velah raiding a housekeeping cart so I could get a maxi pad. Then two hours of parasol fighting (like in the book Soulless). That was a females-only class, so the Husband took swing dancing lessons in the ballroom next door. Afterwards, we were starving, so we went for burgers at a nearby McMenamins, and we got back to the con and flopped in some comfy chairs to wait for the live music. I had a lovely chat with some lovely people, and I really enjoyed the concert (Abney Park). Sunday was a much lower-key day. Martial arts stuff all day, a last look at the vendors, a chat with DJ Dirty Mollie. I picked up the kids and brought them downtown so they could get a taste of our weekend. We came home, had a little dinner, and were done by dark.

And the real world hit with a crash. My mother threw a fit that we were gone all weekend. She lives with us, and doesn’t get around so well, and needed to get groceries, which she can’t do on her own anymore. So she was “out of food” and was mad that we’d left her alone without telling her we were going to be gone. Of course we had told her, and she has access to our Google calendar, but whatever. The garden still needs watering every day and my neighbor’s cats needed feeding, since the neighbors are at Disney all week. Children need parenting, relationships need tending, life continues on as normal. I’m hip-deep in zucchini and plums and blackberries will be coming on soon. Time to start canning again.

The let-down after a big event like that is normal. You plan for weeks, you have a whirlwind weekend. So many things are presented to you that you have to prioritize and choose which one is the most important. You will always regret not seeing that one thing, not meeting that one person, missing that one panel. After all the activity, the real world is flat, dull, and tasteless. Everyday clothes feel strange. And time has warped in weird ways.

And you go back to the real world, the one of children and cats and chores, with the sweet memories in the back of your brain.

The belly dancer. The airship captain. The mad scientist. The wizard. The gamer.

You see, you never really left any of them behind. They are still with you, whispering ideas in your mind, singing airship shanties and jingling their coin-laden belts.

And you press “play” on that CD you bought during the concert, and you drift off on a cloud of steam…

Next time. You’ll do it all again, see them all again. Next time.

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