Kalamazoo

There's something wrong when you arrive at Kalamazoo with a suitcase full of books (unless you're a book exhibitor).

But now I have finished writing my paper (except for cutting it down a bit . . . first it was supposed to be 15 minutes, and then it became 20, so I got over-enthusiastic about putting in stuff that certainly wouldn't have fit in 15, and so now it's 25), after two days of avoiding most of the social aspects of the Zoo in favor of hiding out with my paper and said suitcase.

The blogger meet-up this morning was good, though: I talked with ADM, the Rebelletriste, xoom, T.E., JJ, Steve Muhlberger, Notorious. I have to wonder, though, if I'm the only morning-person medievalist here. (A friend suggested that the morning people just don't come to Kalamazoo.) The sessions I've made it to have been good, as well. And tomorrow Sir John will arrive. We keep talking about him bringing Basement Cat, too, to give the other cats a rest, but in sober fact, B.C. will likely stay home.

I like to imagine, though, what would happen if we turned Basement Cat loose at the dance. If you see a black cat swinging from the disco ball, call me. And if he offers you white powder, don't, please don't snort it . . . it's probably dust from the kitty litter.