I took Zo to my Writer*s@Work board meeting. She was OK. She called alot of attention to herself with her squawking and her squirming and her occasional LOL. She did one jog of crying, which I hate because she isn't real mamacentric unless she's hungry or tired. She was both, but I didn't know. The time change confuses me but apparently, she still likes to go to bed around 8:30.
Anyway, this is one of the meetings that was held at the Pres's house. I stayed after because I like to stay after. I convinced Zo to go to sleep in her baby bucket and I stayed and drank wine and chatted with members of the erstwhile science community as well as Dr Write. A biologist/mathematician from Panama was staying at said Pres's house. He was very funny and told long stories about his son who wrote SF. He said, I respect my son very much in all things, it's just his writing that I respect the least. I think my mom could get in on that rationale.
Anyway, as they spoke, they kept referring to this guy as DH or BH or something and we non sciency types had to keep asking who or what they were talking about. Or rather, we nodded, as if we knew.
This reminded me of Reed College days when I would go to my friends who lived 4 or 5 strong in a Reed House (the equivalent of a fraternity but the hazing often involved a raucous game of "Dictionary) and they would swap terms and I would nod as if I had the slightest idea what the hell they were talking about--NEXT computers (from a guy who's now buco(Valley Spelling) rich investing in Amazon) and John Cage and Benzene circles. Now, I'm much less shy about my stupidity (more on that on Friday) and am willing to ask, what?, when I don't know what, but then, I really wanted to know it all. I still want to know it all but I'm much more likely to actually know it all if I ask what the it is first.