"My work may be garbage but it's good garbage." Mickey Spillane
I spent three hours on the phone comforting a friend who recently lost her husband. Toward the end we had fallen to reminiscing about old times. We’ve been friends for fifteen years now.
I got both of us laughing over something that happened in 96. We went to a worldcon in Anaheim. We drove there for the day on the first day, as I had a panel and then drove back. Second day, Somtow offered to let us crash on his floor.
It was me, Dianna, and my daughter, Sovay. Sovay was 12. She ran rampant with Somtow, her godfather, giving her money to spend. She showed up at 1AM and I told her to get some sleep, but instead she bolted down the hallway heading for the all night movie room. I ran after her yelling, and people in the halls were hollering to me “She went thataway” and I caught her and dragged her back to the room.
I had given her a Marvin the Martian clock that had the following as an alarm. Marvin popped out of the spaceship and said, “Wake up Earthling. You haven’t got all lightyear” until you turned the alarm off.
Two hours later, at 3AM the clock goes off. It woke Dianna and I. We blundered around unable to get our eyes fully open trying to locate Sovay’s back pack and the damned clock.
Throughout the search, Sovay slept peacefully. Dianna kept muttering in this sleep drenched voice, “Damnit, Sovay. Damnit, Sovay.” Eventually she floundered her way to the clock and got the alarm turned off.
Now, what possessed my kid to set the alarm for 3AM in the first place?
A plot to wake mom?