When I was a young girl (just last week), I thought the phrase "ill prepared" referred to getting ready to throw up. Now I'm feeling both meanings as I look at the calendar and realize that I need about another month before I'm ready to head to the RWA National convention next week.

Actually, I'm leaving extra-early so that I can check out all the cool stuff in San Francisco. Oh, and maybe peek into Macy's. ;)

As if that wasn't distressing enough, none of my summer-weight pants fit: they're all falling off. Yeah, I know what you're thinking -- "Stop bragging, skinny biatch!" -- but I can't focus on meeting agents and editors when I'm worried about mooning the world in a chilly hotel.

Especially when it will turn up on every chat loop with the title "Canadian writer pitches more than just current manuscript." And those chat loop gals can get pretty darn incensed when it comes to exposing things in public. ;)

I guess what bothers me most is feeling overwhelmed instead of excited. It's never one's intent to scream when looking at the calendar or mutter incoherently when trying on every single pair of pants to simply find something that will "do" until I hit American stores. Any work on the current WIP has been pushed to the side along with a gansta rap glossary.

This is going to be a great trip, I know it. Now if only I could convince the rest of my brain of that so I could get a good night's sleep and finish packing. ;)

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