Heading to the Con in an hour. Frantically doing last minute prints. Money Frog is sitting in the cash box, gettin’ jiggy with the ones. (I’m not taking him to the Con for fear of losing him, but Kathy suggested he might enjoy the cashbox while it’s here, and I can find no fault with this.)

I’m on eight panels. I have eighteen paintings, not including the Twigjack, who I’m taking but may not hang, depending on the amount of available space. I have two sculptures. I have more prints than I can shake a stick at, numerous T-shirts, mousepads, and memorabilia. I am extravagantly laden with Stuff.

It’ll be fine once we’re set up, but the pre-Con packing panic is always a little frantic.

I also thought, not for the first time, that someday I want to write something non-fiction. Like “Digger’s Guide To What Evolution Really Means.” The cliff-notes, no-nonsense, but hopefully fairly engaging version. With wombats. In hardback. With lead covers. Largely so that I have something heavy to brain people with when they say stupid things about evolution based on things that they don’t at all understand. (This is a really seriously hot button issue with me, if you hadn’t guessed. I can go from zero to wolverine in like three seconds…)

But enough of this! To lunch, and then the Con! If you’re in the neighborhood, come on down!

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