Monday, November 9, 2009

I Got A Rock . . .


Not much to report today. I'm busily working on my novel and that's where most of my energy went.

However, since by state law all blog entries made in California must be upbeat, here's an item I didn't post while I was on the West Coast:

Last Tuesday, two days after the World Fantasy Convention (during which, my good friend Jeff Ford won two -- count 'em, two -- World Fantasy Awards!), I woke up in a hotel in Santa Rosa to find Marianne had been going through the local tourist brochures. "Guess what's only four blocks away from us? The Charles Shultz Museum!"

Who could resist?

Alas, when I got there, at ten a.m. Tuesday morning, I discovered from a sign in the door that:

1. The museum didn't open until 11:30 a.m.

2. It was closed on Tuesdays.

3. Writers were not allowed in.

4. Especially science fiction writers.

5. But most particularly not Michael Swanwick.

Okay, in my bitterness, I may have made up those last three. But you can picture my disappointment. Or, rather, you don't have to. Marianne took a photo of it for you.

Pictured above: Me, in front of the Charles Shultz Museum.



J Reynolds said...

Too bad you didn't get into the Schulz museum. I had no idea that admittance requirements were so anti-Swanwick.

Have you been reading the new Peanuts compilation volumes? I have the first few and I was surprised how many didn't get anthologized until this series.

Miggy said...

Wow. The museum is smaller than I'd have thought.

Rich Baldwin said...

If the museum is that small, you didn't miss much.

Michael Swanwick said...

Whoops. Ouch. Touche. Who'd have thought that an innocent little caption like that could lend itself so easily to misinterpretation? Words are treacherous bastards.

But I already knew that.