Murder She Writes

Somehow, we leave everything to the last minute. Even all the initials I now plan my life around.
Except that I’m not planning very well.

Wednesday begins Craftfest, and Thursday, Thrillerfest, the precon and conference for ITW, or International Thriller Writers. T-fest was the brain child of people I love who had a real vision to bring all kinds of writers together–they just had to write or want to write page-turning thrillers one way or another. It’s not just horror, it’s not just mystery, paranormal, political or medical thriller, sci-fi, fantasy or romance. You may find all of them here, in a thrilling mode. And that’s what’s so fun about it.

The first took place at the Biltmore in Arizona. A million degrees, of course, but one of the most amazing conferences I’ve ever attended. We were like a giant litter of puppies, all eager to get out of the box, and it became one of the most amazing networking situation I’ve ever seen. The forensics guy can ask the politician a question, and the fellow full of vampire lore can get help from the doctor. The different panels are funny, and filled with all kinds of information–amazing things you didn’t know that you realize you wanted to know–but didn’t know you wanted to know until you heard the question and answer. That’s the fun of it.

So, I love T-fest.

It’s the packing thing again, and getting it all ready at the homestead before leaving.

I have never really understood how I manage to leave so many things for the last minute.

First off, unless you’re seriously going to have some spare time, do not acquire an albino skunk. Leave the skunk, you might say. But then, you’ve never seen a dirty albino skunk, and I’m asking other people to come and watch her for me.

So . . . started chasing her early this morning–she needed that bath. Albino skunks quickly need baths. They are close to the floor. You can bathe them too frequently, so my plan was to bathe her today.

Somehow, she knew.

I couldn’t catch her. For some reason–oh, yeah, repair shops–we’ve been playing musical cars. I would up with the extended van. It was on empty. So, got the gas, got back, got Chynna to her class.

I came back–and looked for the skunk.

She led me on a merry chase. I captured her at last. Unless you’re a far better owner than I am, skunks don’t come just because you call their names. In fact, they often prefer to look at you, decide you’re playing, hop around and flick their tails up at you, having no clue that they’ve been de-scented.

Okay, caught the skunk, gave her a bath. Managed to finish up a few things on the computer. Went to lunch with Grahamster and T and her nieces, plunged into the pool at the Biltmore for a full twenty minutes, then went up to have my hair done. I’m a professional, and I have had about three pedicures in my life, but I’d decided that it was summer and sandals, and I should have a manicure and pedicure while the stylist was getting my bangs out of my eyes. The pedicure was great. I forgot about my nails and the manicure thing isn’t looking so good . . . . I thought that stuff dried much more quickly.

Ran home. More last minute things on the computer.

I have no idea what I’ve actually put in the suitcase. I know I don’t have a camera because my friend picked up one I’d forgotten at his friend’s house, but then he went on up to Broward country with it . . . .

There’s still garbage. And dishes. And dinner, out, that part is good!

Okay, so I’m not sure what’s in the suitcase, and the manicure is smeared, and . . . .

I have a really clean albino skunk, and I’m on way to T-fest.

I’m sure the world will fall into place!

Heather Graham

© 2009 Heather Graham. All rights reserved.

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