Last night's registration meeting was interesting. I went there directly after attending the Ash Wednesday service at St. Olaf's (good sermon, annoying brats in pew directly ahead of me, grrr) and noshed on the pasta before getting the guest account reopened on Cowzilla so Anne could use it. It turned out that even with my laptop and the Toshiba we still had more people than computers, but it was all good since between Anne, Paul, Tae, Melody and Brin the backlog of registration forms was eliminated, some problems solved, and much discussion of various convention matters before the talk moved on to breast sizes and the lack of good brassieres for women with D and larger cups. (I sat that one out; there's nothing I can contribute to that discussion except hearsay complaints.)
Anyway, the registration staff seems to think we're not going to get anywhere near 2500 this year, which would be a good thing, but so far this week we've taken in 80 registrations for a total of 689, which means we're pretty much a lock to hit 700 after I pick up tomorrow's mail. Another couple of weeks like this will put us around 900, and then we'll see how we do at the door. If last year's any indication, we'll get another five or six hundred walk-ups, and that would bring us up to 1500. Which is okay growth for a convention that did next to no advertising, I think.
Today is just kind of noodling along. A bunch of us went out to a farewell lunch for New Guy Alex, whose last day is Friday; we went to Friday's at the City Center where all the male waiters radiate strongly on all frequencies of the gaydar. The burgers are good, but except for the fish & chips the rest of the menu swerves all over the road between regular bar snacks and collision cuisine. Yuck. Work dribbles in, I'm pecking away at a couple of projects in between uploads and researching, and wondering why the clock is so slow.
Maybe some Cake will lift my spirits.