I just finished my signing in Powell’s convention bookstore booth . . .
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I had a line the whole hour!!!

I was / am stunned. Powell’s actually sold out of the books they’d brought to the con in about 20 mnutes. Luckily, I’d brought some additional copies with me, and I SOLD OUT OF THOSE TOO!!!
(I understand that they still have enough for the signing tonight, but if you’re planning on picking one up there, you should probably reserve it, or get there early.)
The best part of this whole signing today, however, was the ratio of “I like Star Trek” to “I love your writing” people: it was about 2:7.
🙂

Highlights of OSCon (since I’ve been here less than 24 hours):

• A couple of kids just tossed these little Tux giveaways into a trashcan about 40 feet from me. “Bye bye, Penguins!” they said, before they ran, giggling, into the elevator after their parents.
• Randall picked me up from the airport, and we stopped off for a local IPA before coming to the con yesterday.
• I became a card-carrying member of the Free Software Foundation
• My flight here was the smoothest, most enjoyable flight I’ve taken in years. I watched three episodes of Family Guy on my iBook.
• It’s 90 degrees in Portland
• The accumulated knowledge in this building, if properly harnessed, could conquer all of Known Space.
• Randal’s party last night, at a local club called “Bar 71,” was insanely fun, and I didn’t drink enough to have a hangover today.
• At Randal’s party, I got to pet an Alpaca
• None of the much-smater-than-me geeks who are here have shoved in my face exactly how much smarter than me they all are. I’m sure I’ve showed my complete lack of geek-cred several times, but so far nobody’s outed me.
• I’m about to eat a sandwich that is sponsored by Microsoft . . . but I’m going to heavily modify the source before I eat it. so there.

On Thursday, I’ll be at the OSCon up in Portland. I’ll be mostly running around, getting my geek on, but I’m also dong a couple of organized book signing events.

1. Thursday, 1:00pm: book-signing at the convention bookstore in the exhibit hall.
2. Thursday night, 7:00-9:00pm: book-signing at Powell’s Technical Books.

At both events, they’re letting me read from Dancing Barefoot, and I’ll be signing copies when I’m finished.

When people come up to me at a convention, they are usually approaching TVSWILWHEATON(I hate that guy), but Mrs. Wheaton’s Husband is usually who they meet. This is because TVSWILWHEATON(I hate that guy) just doesn’t exist any more, as far as I am concerned. He flew off to some other dimension last year.
(aside: My life is so much better since I saw the difference between TVSWILWHEATON(I hate that guy) and me. It seems so elementary to me now, but it took years for me to understand it — and it never would have happened without this website. I am so much happier, and so much more content and secure than I was just two years ago.)
While I was at the convention, I was able to do what I do with this website –introduce people who were hoping to meet TVSWILWHEATON(I hate that guy) to Mrs. Wheaton’s Husband (who’s not such a bad guy after all.) — on a much more personal, direct, and intimate level . . . and it was awesome. Many people commented to me about the difference between Mrs. Wheaton’s Husband, and a certain Big Time Guest who told people (who had paid something like 70 bucks for the opportunity to take a photo with him) “Don’t talk to me,” so he could race through the huge line and take their money with a minimum of unpleasant interaction — what a jerk.
There was a time about 10 or so years ago, when I was the jerk. Big time. So I left this convention feeling really happy. I think I gave people their money’s worth, and had too many awesome conversations, and met too many awesome people to count.
The convention was fun, to be sure, and I can’t wait to go back next year . . . but it was part of an even greater road trip. The road trip there and back is on par with my wedding, or the SpongeBob Vega$ Pants trip, in terms of times-never-to-be-forgotten.
While we were driving East, Anne and I stopped every time something struck us as interesting. We spent 4 days solid together, often separated by little more than an arm rest. We talked about our marriage, the kids, the nightmare their father is putting us all through, and our plans for the near future. We read to each other, sang songs together, took turns napping . . . we were just two people in love, experiencing the open road together. I remember a friend of mine telling me that the long drives he spent with his wife between New York and Florida made all the difference in their relationship. I totally understand what he meant, now.
The drive West was great (and is mostly audioblogged) but it passed far too quickly. I wish we’d had another day, so we could have taken our time, and explored more of Route 66. We’ll take the trip again, this time with the kids who I really, REALLY miss right now. They were supposed to come home today, but now won’t be back for another week. (see: nightmare, above)
Normally, when I take a trip, I can’t wait to get home. After just a few days, I long for the familiarity of my own bedroom and house. I miss the songbirds who sing just outside my window all night long, and the comforting hum of fans in every room. I miss my dogs, and I miss my chair.
This time, when Anne and I turned the final page on our TripTik, I felt sad. I felt sad that our road trip — our Route 66 Adventure — was over. I felt sad that we had to return to all the frustrations and injustices of our regular, everyday life. When we pulled into our driveway, I thought I may cry. I wish our trip could have lasted all summer.
If you’ve got someone in your life who you adore, you simply must spend 2000 miles with them. You’ll be glad you did.
Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.

I really like The Grateful Dead. American Beauty is easily one of my desert island discs, with Aoxomoxoa narrowly missing the cut (only one record is allowed from each band, unfortunately. You should see the dilemma this has created with Zeppelin.)
I especially love to listen to them live, though I’ve never wanted to actually attend a show (I don’t do well in crowds. Especially mostly-high crowds.) Regardless, I love the Grateful Dead, and their music has often taken the edge off of some othwerwise lousy days over the years.
I’ve been listening to a live recording of The Dead that was made at Bonnaroo in June . . . and it’s really amazing. I could listen to this 28 minutes of Dark Star-China Doll-Dark Star for days.
It got me thinking: the only live recording I have of The Grateful Dead is the commercially-available “Europe ’72” (and I can only find CD 2 from that release) and I am hungering for more.
I know that they’ve encouraged fans to trade live recordings and spread the music since the 60s, so I looked online for an archive . . . but I couldn’t find anything that didn’t time out.
That got me thinking (I’m writing today, so I’m thinking a lot . . . dangerous stuff, this thinking): I bet, somewhere out in Internetland, there must be a WWdN reader who has some live Grateful Dead recordings that they’d be willing to share. I’ll totally pay for the shipping and the costs of CDs, if anyone wants to hook me up. Any takers?
Back to work. Final thoughts on the road trip later today (pictures — nearly 500 of them — won’t be available for a few days). I need to finish the CruiseBlog, too.