personal

Book sale

I slept okay last night, though more out of quantity than quality. I kept waking up every hour or so throughout the night for some reason, but I think I slept at least eight hours altogether. I was up a little before seven this morning, wandering downstairs soon after in search of the conference and the books I needed the hotel to deliver to our tables. The conference is actually in a separate tower, and it was almost impossible not to get turned around looking for it. Even after the first time I found it. This is a really nice hotel, but it can kind of a maze. (And I’ve been to Atlantic City and Vegas, where the hotels are purposely designed to make it tough to find your way off the casino floor.)

But I did eventually find the conference, and get our pallet of books sent over, and I spent most of the morning setting up the exhibit, unpacking boxes and arranging books and catalogs in what I hoped was a sales-encouraging display. It was a little tough when conference attendees suddenly swarmed the tables, and I had to tell them we weren’t opening until noon and could they, you know, please get out of my way? It’s tough to sell books when the order forms are still inside a box and the “exhibit” is still just random piles of books. But luckily it’s not such a big exhibit, and I finished up by late morning and could go grab an early lunch.

At noon the sales began in earnest — though, given the nature of this conference, there are long stretches when it’s pretty quiet. My boss turned up around two o’clock — which is good, because I was starting to wonder if he’d even arrived in town yet — and we closed up shop around 5 PM.

I walked around San Jose for just a little bit, though never more than three or four blocks from the hotel, and then I wandered back to grab some dinner at the hotel’s fancy Chinese restaurant. What can I say? I’ve been jonesing for a little moo shu pork lately. After that, it was just back up to my hotel room. I’m going to try for a little more local exitement tomorrow night — it is, after all, my birthday — but tonight I mostly felt like coming back to the room and reading. Right now, I’m sort of half-(or may just a quarter)-watching Fringe, which I’ve been kind of meaning to give a second chance. I wasn’t crazy about the pilot, but I hear it actually got kind of interesting after that. But midway through the second season, after a tiring day of selling books to psychologists, and with the sound on mute, probably isn’t the best way to get caught up.

I think now I’m just going to get ready for bed. I forgot the power cord for my laptop anyway, so I have pretty limited battery power to see me through the next couple of days. That and, well, I’ve been on my feet all day and I’m kind of tired.

As a matter of fact, I do know the way to San Jose

Today was a day spent in airports, first in New York, then in Minnesota, and then briefly here in San Jose. I’m a little bit exhausted, though luckily, because of the time difference, I should still be able to get a decent night’s sleep. I’m not completely sure where the conference (and moreover our exhibit booth) is located in the hotel, and there’s some question about actually getting our books to the booth and some unexpected handling charges I need to square with our New York office. But the conference is in the hotel, so I don’t have far at all to go tomorrow morning.

I finished reading The Subtle Knife along the way and started reading The Lamp at Noon and Other Stories by Sinclair Ross, one of the books that Heather sent me for my birthday. I brought it along in no small part because it’s the lightest of the book, but I am really enjoying it so far. Here’s a little bit I liked from “Cornet at Night”:

For a farm boy is like that. Alone with himself and his horse he cuts a fine figure. He is the measure of the universe. He foresees a great many encounters with life, and in them all acquits himself a little more than creditably. He is fearless, resourceful, a bit of a brag. His horse never contradicts.

But in town it is different. There are eyes here, critical, that pierce with a single glance the little bubble of his self- importance, and leave him dwindled smaller even than his normal size. It always happens that way. They are so superbly poised and sophisticated, these strangers, so completely masters of their situation as they loll in doorways and go sauntering up and down Main Street. Instantly he yields to them his place as measure of the universe, especially if he is a small boy wearing squeaky corduroys, especially if he has a worldly-wise old horse like Rock, one that knows his Main Streets, and will take them in nothing but his own slow philosophic stride.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t really up to sightseeing this evening, though I am in a nice section of San Jose, and it looks pleasant enough, at least from my hotel window. I got some room service, and I’m getting ready to fall asleep. Actually, I was getting ready to fall asleep a few hours ago. I’ve kind of lost completely track of time in all the flying.

My bags are packed, I’m ready to go

My flight to San Jose isn’t until 11:30 tomorrow morning, so I don’t have be up too early. It’s going to be a long day after that, though, pretty much nothing but travel. I’m supposed to get into Minneapolis-St. Paul around two o’clock, then fly to San Jose three hours later. It will be around ten o’clock New York time when I finally touch down in California, but luckily I won’t have to be at work (in the same hotel I’m staying at) until eight o’clock Thursday morning. I’m hoping I’ll get to see a little of San Jose while I’m there, despite being at work (selling books at our exhibit booth) until five o’clock every day, but there’s no guarantee. It’s not exactly how I’d like to be spending my birthday — I can think of a few other places I’d prefer this free trip to be sending me — but, then again, it is a free trip, and the work itself isn’t too hard, so I’m not exactly complaining.

I get back late Sunday night, which is one of a couple of reasons why I’m taking next Monday off. I think I’m going to take my laptop with me, and I think I’ll have internet access while I’m away, but if you don’t hear from me between now and then, don’t worry. All is well. I’m selling books and meeting authors.

In the meantime, did I mention I announced the final table of contents for Kaleidotrope #8? Because, well, I did.

Offgassing?

Today was about as typical a Monday as they come. And there isn’t a whole lot to write about it because of that.

Even my “Forgotten English” desk calendar isn’t much help. Today’s entry is all about euphemisms for intestinal gas, starting with “wamble” — “pronounced wammle and meaning “to move with wind, as the intestines” — and ending with a short history of the vapours:

At that time, fretful women of the upper classes treated and avoided those psychosomatic conditions by donning heavy petticoats and underwear to help disguise and absorb their bodies’ offgassing.

You know it’s desperate times when the blog turns to the farting women of the 18th century for content.

I’m a little nervous about my trip to San Jose on Wednesday and a little unsure how I’m going to spend my off-time, including my birthday, while I’m there. Plans to meet up with some friends local to California ultimately fell through, so I’ll be on own most of the time. My father reminded me this evening that I have in fact been to San Jose once before; when I was younger, we visited the Winchester Mystery House, which I remember, if not in great detail. I’m a little disappointed the house closes at five every day that I’m there, meaning I won’t get a chance to take a cab over and visit.

Anyway, that was Monday.

Plumbing the depths

I spent the afternoon today helping my father at a local Boy Scout “Merit Badge University” in Great Neck. Some Long Island troops had put together the event, where Scouts could go from one class to another and learn about the requirements of different merit badges. My father was teaching the plumbing section of Home Repairs, for which he’s a counselor — and for which his large collection of tools and significant experience make him well qualified. (He’s a chemical engineer, so not a plumber by trade, but he’s definitely my go-to person for any home repair questions that I might ever have.)

I should say that, while I was an Eagle Scout and Scouting was a big part of my life growing up, my father has significantly more years invested in it now than I ever did. He stayed on as Scoutmaster for at least half a decade after I graduated and went away to college, for one thing, and he remains actively involved to some extent with several local troops, including the troop that I was a member of as a boy. My involvement today consisted mostly of helping my father carry in all the plumbing supplies he’d brought along to show the scouts, and at one point going back to the classroom to grab a closet auger the boys wanted him to demonstrate in the bathroom across the hall.

We were in a local Jewish temple, in the religious school on the second floor, and it wasn’t a big group. My father’s “class,” which ran from about 1 to 2:30 PM, was just two boys and one of the boys’ fathers. I sat quietly to one side and thought I’d work on the Sunday crossword puzzle, but I ended up not wanting to be rude or distracting to the others, so I mostly just listened. I had plenty of time to work on the crossword puzzle — not quite finishing it just yet — when we got home.

We got takeout at a nearby Azerbaijan restaurant for dinner, and I spent some more time finishing that Wallace and Gromit computer game — just one more episode to download and go — and trying to get caught up on episodes of Chuck. That’s about the extent to the excitement of this Sunday.

Now I’m getting ready for bed. I might watch one more Chuck episode and then that’s it.