Touring and Packing (the redux)

I've been in SF exactly 38 hours now. I've brunched at Mimi's Cafe, taken an ethusiastically guided tour of the Google campus in Mountain View, taken a drive-by tour of the famous spots of San Francisco, and supped on haute Vietnamese cuisine at Bong Su in the SoMa (South of Market) area of San Francisco, couple blocks from the RWA conference hotel.
The secret techie inside me was thrilled by the tour of Google. What an exciting place to be. A simple idea. A complex problem. An enormously successful business plan. Et voilà. A dynamic company is born, thrilling users, developers, and investors alike.
Today I'm to lunch at the Samovar Tea Lounge that has it's own Internet TV channel, blog, in-the-news, podcasts, iTunes, in addition to a food-and-tea pairing menu. Sounds üaut;ber delish. Dinner's to be at Chez Papa Bistro. I could eat the menu. Looks très, très magnifique, n'est ce pas? After being in foodie heaven, it's going to be back to packing for my move to the hotel, with the promise of Nepali food next Sunday before I get shipped to the airport and home.
[Edited: OMGosh. My palate's permanently exploded. At the Tea Lounge, I had the Russian Chay Platter with zavarka black tea from the samovar.]
My conference day starts bright and early tomorrow when I meet Diane Gaston for breakfast and a tour of the city, followed by lunch with Amanda McCabe and more touring with them. Then I meet my roomie at the Marriott, check-in, register, and stuff bags for Wednesday's Historical Romance Writers' Conference. Then there are drinks with the extraordinary duo of Waxcreative Emily Cotler and Abi Bowling (recommended by Avon editor Lyssa Keusch, and dinner with Kalen Hughes. At which point, I shall repair to the bar to recoup and regroup before heading to the room to collapse in preparation for four intense days of conferencing.
So, Romanistas: If you're on your way to RWA, are you excited or panicking or both?
What is the one takeaway you're looking forward to from the conference?
If you're at home and reading this blog, what is the one thing you want me to look for and blog about for you?

By Saturday one o'clock, we'd just returned from a birthday brunch, my bag was totally full, with more clothes to go, and tragically, no business cards in hand yet. Staples messed up the order thrice.
The third time, I had two hours to go before heading out to the airport and more clothes to iron and stuff, er, lay out carefully, into the one suitcase Virgin Airlines allowed me to carry for free. So I made do with the glossy (isn't matte!) photocopying with lighter inks, crammed clothes into suitcase, and sniffled on the ride to the airport.
We're at T-2 days now for me since I'm heading down to San Francisco early to stay with my bro and sis-in-law. Papers are scattered everwhere in the bedroom. Clothing's folded, bags decided upon, but the shoes are still en route from Zappo's. (I know, I know, I may live to regret the shoes, but hey, I'll atleast live and look good, right?). I'm busy printing workshop handouts. It's confusing to know what I'll need, what I can skip. I'm double-booked in some cases. And I'm volunteered up to my eye-balls. Life's très complicated. So...PANIC!
Uh-oh-oh-oh-oh!!
All good things come in threes, right?

Grandfather has the distinction of being home to a privately-owned biosphere and a swinging bridge that's more than a mile above sea level. Imagine yourself standing on swaying, creaking wooden slats, like a boat at sea, with spaces in between the slats and merely two horizontal bars on the sides.
Now, imagine the bridge suspended between two rocks. Finally, imagine looking down and seeing the tops of fir trees 100 feet below. The experience is surreal, as is the view of the slate gray-blue lines of the Blue Ridge mountain range. For 65 years old (if one human year is akin to one million mountain years), Grandfather sure is a spry host. Sixteen different natural communities, seventy rare and endangered species, 200 types of birds, and 12 miles of backcountry trails ensure that visitors are suitably entertained.
Chimney Rock was privately-held by the Morse family until two years ago. "Chimney Top," "Groundhog Slide," "Inspiration Point," Nature's Showerbath," and "Exclamation Point" are some of the places along the Skyline Cliff Trail that you would recognize, if you'd seen Daniel Day Lewis (ooh!) in The Last of the Mohicans. First, we had a chance to ride in a 26-story elevator blasted through the center of a solid granite mountain. Then we stumbled from rock to rock, panted over steep steps, and squeezed through the Wild Cat Trap. Phew! for ice-cream that turns your tongue electric blue.

So, when a chance came up to meet one such amazing friend in person on our trip to Charlotte, I jumped at it. She's PJ. She drove across state lines. She hand-crafted chocolate that's far superior to Godiva's and brought it with her. And the three hours that I spent in her company were over in an instant. I have missed her ever since...
