Being Rooted

I was just thinking, as I watched the kids across the street playing jump rope with one end of the rope tied to their front gate, that we've been in this house now for 18-1/2 years. The neighborhood has changed; when we moved in, there were a number of older couples who had raised their families and stayed put long into retirement. They're all gone now, and we've watched a generation of young families come and go. Now there's a whole new crop of kids on the street... and we're still here.

Even before we moved in, this was an area in transition. Being a city neighborhood, not in the chic-y foo-foo rehab zone, it's not big with professional-types, and any young family that can afford (or thinks they can afford) a McMansion out in the 'burbs won't look twice in the city. Yet there are advantages -- being five minutes from downtown, within a few minutes of four major highways, and about 12 minutes from the airport. Our house is almost 100 years old -- it has character (and ghosts). We've done enough upgrading to get by comfortably. All I could ask for in a move would be a larger, more modern kitchen, and some day I'll have that. For now, it's nice to be rooted.

Speaking of roots, I seem to have gotten pretty firmly entrenched into the Marcon staff. I'm not complaining; it just seems funny after all these years. As Con Suite department head (basically Hospitality Director, for those not familiar with science fiction convention jargon), I and my staff of about 15 threw a 48-hour party last weekend for about 1800 people. Stretch that to 60 hours when you include the post-convention "Dead Dog Party" (for those remaining who are dead-dog tired, which we were by then!). I didn't get enough sleep, but I had a blast and it's nice to belong. (The next Marcon is May 22-24, 2009, see www.marcon.org for details.)

Chandra

P.S. Mo had her first encounter with rolled fondant, and the fondant won -- but the cake was gorgeous!