OzCon was conceived because one of our Taos alums was graduating from SHU with a fancy MA in Pop Fiction in January 08. This celebratory event became the basis for organizing a party. The woman pictured below *claims* to be the same person, but I'm not convinced. Had I met such a femme fatale on the mountain, I'm quite sure I'd remember her as such.
OzCon began in a sleepy manner, with said guest claiming that something in the house was making her sneeze and snuffle continuously. Which, in this house, could be just about anything. There were still preparations to be made, guests to be deposited in the city to tour museums, cars to be fixed, stories not to be written.
Here we see our Femme Fatale being interviewed about her new book by one of the girls.
Here we see our heroines posing with their hero.
Moving right along, on the Friday OzCon was to begin, we had the Dramatic Installation of the Hughes Satellite Service Business Package. Minor drama over, OzCon was live on the internet.
Once
OzCon consists of animal therapy.
This morning, we were awakened to the sound of rapid-fire birdshot from a neighboring property. Shortly afterward, we acquired (unwillingly) a Canadian Goose that had been winged. Which sent the girls into a tizzy and they went into the coop and spent the day complaining and laying eggs. All perfectly legal, apparently. Though I do want to know what I'm expected to do with a goose in the temporary run. So does the goose. He/She exited the temporary run under the cover of dusk and made a beeline for the property line. Unfortunately, he/she was spotted by the Dude and rounded up again by the Dude, ably assisted by
Before our crit circle, the group was treated to a demonstration of the art of splitting wood with a maul. The Dude rocks. Splits 'em actually. Logs, that is.
Such power, such grace, such athletic prowess, such je ne sais quoi. Actually, I do know what, but I won't share it with the entire internet.
Tomorrow, we may work on plotting. We may visit Antietam and Harpers Ferry. We may have a bonfire. Or, we may sit and write and plot and dream.
Frog Out