I got to hang out with auuuuuthors.

[miladygrey]

We had a wonderful time at the Baltimore Book Festival. The panel that Yeats was on, about why monarchies are so popular in fantasy and ways that authors can subvert classic monarchy tropes, was well-attended and he got some compliments afterward. I got to meet Diana Peterfreund (thank you for not panicking when a complete stranger called out your name as you walked by!), Victoria Lee, and Lara Elena Donnelly (who signed my copy of Amberlough with "you have great taste in names!" and who squeed with me about our mutual favorite book almost no one else has read, Elizabeth Wein's The Winter Prince). Yeats and I also listened to Nnedi Okorafor's talk, had delicious breakfast at the best breakfast place in Baltimore, and ended up going to the author-participant-extravaganza pizza party afterward, the late-night ice cream run after the pizza, and sharing an Uber with five other people back to our hotel and laughing the whole way. I think it was an excellent way to spend a weekend.

Of course, on Monday I woke up with chills and a slight fever, because this is what comes of associating with lots of people in enclosed spaces for almost an entire day. I powered through because it was a hectic day at work, but woke up yesterday morning with a more-than-slight fever and decided not to inflict it on Aveline and Merrill. Yesterday was spent on the couch wrapped in cats and a blanket and playing "The Outer Worlds" while sipping tea, and that was enough to beat the nascent concrud (festivalcrud?) back.

In random news, the office up the hall from us--the first one you see as you walk into the building--has finished extensive remodeling and now looks like the entrance to a Victorian club of some kind. I have no idea what kind of business they are. There's paisley/peacock wallpaper in red and green and deep ultramarine, there's an Oriental rug in the entryway...and sitting on a table also in the entryway (and visible through the glass doors) is a large statue of a little boy, visibly African-American, grinning and holding out his hands in an "I dunno!" gesture. This is clearly so visitors/clients can hang their umbrellas or bags on his hands as they come in, there's always at least one thing in one of his hands. Merrill and I were coming in last week and we both laid eyes on it simultaneously.

Merrill: Is that...?
Me: I think it is.
Merrill: I hate to be judgy, but...
Me: But it's super-racist.
Merrill: It really is! Do you think they know?
Me: Going by the decor, there's no one in that office under 55, so I'm going to guess no.
Merrill: Should we tell Aveline?
Aveline, coming into the office five minutes later: Did you see that racist statue right there where anyone who walks in can see it? I'm going to politely mention it to the landlord.

I mean, they can decorate their office however they want, but that statue is giving me strong "Song of the South" vibes, and I sincerely doubt any new business wants their first impression to be "reminiscent of the film that Disney is ashamed to ever show in theaters again", so we'll see if the landlord steps in.

This weekend, we have nowhere to go and nothing to do. Which is good, because there are freakin' flurries forecast for Friday night, and I plan to wrap myself in a blanket with hot cocoa and sulk.

Reading Log: The Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty; Jade War by Fonda Lee; Tinseltown by William J. Mann; Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir; The Life and Afterlife of Harry Houdini by Joe Posnanski; Archangel's War by Nalini Singh; Kopp Sisters on the March by Amy Stewart; They Called Us Enemy by George Takei; The Babysitters Coven by Kate Williams