What will I remember about this year's Left Coast Crime in Sacramento, I wonder? Chicken garlic soup. Cheerleaders. Special moments with Jackie Winspear. The Armani Jacket disaster.
Oh, and it was a great convention, extremely well run by Cindy Sample and Robin Burcell. Everyone loved the panels and the hotel with its big bar area. They thought the food in the restaurant was good. I wouldn't know. There was an hour's wait any time I wanted to eat.
I arrived in Sacramento with a nasty cold--the type in which my head and chest felt stuffed and heavy. Then I discovered the Hungarian/Romanian/Greek restaurant across the street and a bowl of their chicken garlic soup opened all those blocked sinuses and led the way to feeling better.
On Saturday I had to interview Guest of Honor Jacqueline Winspear. The interesting thing for the audience was how much we have in common: lived in the same county in England, studied in London, came to America, married a man called John and now live FIVE MILES APART. We also write about strong young women in the 1930s. We've won the same awards. Our work habits and approach to writing is identical and we even look quite similar. One woman said we sound so alike that if she closed her eyes she couldn't tell who was speaking. (I'm thinking clone)
Jackie was an absolute trooper at the interview and the whole convention as her father in UK has major health problems and she was worried about him.
There was a cheerleader competition going on across the street. Little girls with HUGE bows in their hair and too sexy outfits were looking really stressed. Their mothers were fussing around looking way too involved. Can somebody tell me why little girls have to look provocate and sexy in order to compete? Surely cheerleading is all about the athletiticism?
Oh, and the story of the Armani jacket. I found a fabulous Armani jacket in a designer resale store. Pale blue. Gorgeous. And being the creator of Lady Georgie (just a little clumsy by nature), I managed to drop a piece of salmon in a gooey sauce down my front. On my way to the dry-cleaner.
Now it's back to work trying to finish my new Molly book to deadline.