Thursday

It's opening day, and I'm not set up yet. I get up early to go to the convention center. I'm to meet Jolyon there. E rides with me; Digger has given me my display material, which I'd FedEx'd prior to leaving Pennsylvania. I don't have a vendor's badge,so I have to wait at the security desk. I mutter something about needing coffee and the policeman offers me some from the pot behind the table. We introduce each other: he is nicknamed "Gator" because when he lived in Florida he lost a couple of finger joints to a gator. By the time Jolyon brings me a badge we are on a first name basis. Jolyon finds this hilarious.

The Mindat booth is virtually at the centre of the convention center. I am staggered by the size of the show and by the contents of the display cases I'm passing. In the rows of dealers are names like Krystalle (they advertise on the back of every issue of Rocks and Minerals magazine, and Dan Weinrich (the Rowley wulfenite I painted was his; he later told me that that he'd sold it and that it had broken while he was packing it--ACK!) I see four-foot high amethyst geodes from Brazil (which has a seemingly endless supply of them: I wonder if there is a secret geode growing factory deep in the amazon.) There is a 13-foot-tall trunk of petrified wood that has been polished on one side. We will spend the weekend speculating upon how they polished it.

I have been to World Science Fiction conventions, and I have never been in a vendor space this big. "Huge" is a better word. Eventually I will learn that the vendor space not only fills the convention centre floor, but also the adjacent stadium space. I remind myself, "It's just a dealers' room. It's just a dealer's room."

Jolyon and I set up with E's help. E is taller than either of us, which is good because it would have been much more difficult to execute Jolyon's excellent plan to use hooks like those the committee have used to hang our booth names (i.e., "Mindat", "Krystalle," etc.) to hang my framed prints. I am concerned that the Mindat section seems very sparse but Jolyon seems content. Five minutes before they begin letting in the hoards we finish hanging pictures and arranging prints.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. Gail Spann comes by and and takes me to be introduced to some of the Big Wheels of the collecting/vending community. It is an education. I am meeting people who regularly deal in six-figure minerals. Gail has warned me that she will be stopped every five feet and she was not exaggerating. Eventually in spite of my really excellent shoes, which have kept my feet, shins and knees from hurting, my back starts to hurt. I excuse myself, and walk on.

By the end of the day I feel like I've run a marathon. E and I get into the car to drive back, and although we followed Digger's directions, we get lost==and I mean REALLY lost (I will later refer to this as the Tucson Effect: no matter how good the directions you get are, you are going to get lost. Trust me.) Once we overcome the Tucson Effect, we get into the Diggermobile--a gigantic pickup truck--and we have fabulous Mexican food. We drink many margaritas.

And when we get out of the Diggermobile back at the hotel, my back gives out altogether.

My back will stay out for the rest of the weekend. A trip to the local Walgreen's provides me with pain relievers and a snazzy blue cane. My time at the Mindat booth is spent drawing and talking to visitors. I meet Maria Huizing, Executive Editor of Rocks and Minerals magazine, and she brings me the proof of my article, which will be in the next issue! I am really excited, and show it to everyone. Vendors and visitors alike are extremely nice. The coolest part is meeting Mindat members and being able to put faces to the screen names.

Monday, February 16: Tombstone

I have appointments today: one shop that's interested in my work is in Tombstone. The moment I leave Tucson I realize I'm driving where the deer and the antelope play. Out here the mesquite aren't bushes: they're TREES. I'm reminded of the thorn forest in Disney's Sleeping Beauty . These mesquites could probably take out an M1A1 tank.

I have difficulty staying on the highway. I keep getting distracted by the landforms and frequent road cuts, and the wind keeps trying to pick up my teensy Chevy Cobalt rental. I call my husband, who has just gotten in from Afghanistan and ask him whatever possessed people to settle here. We agree that it wasn't the hospitable landscape.

I arrive in Tombstone, and the moment I open the car door I am thankful that I opted for the short East Coast skirt instead of the artsy flowy full skirt: I would have been doing a Marilyn Monroe imitation in the middle of the desert. I blow on down the street, past saloons and galleries and other landmarks. The Bank of America has a sign that has been made to look like it is a relic of the Old West. I imagine Wyatt Earp striding determinedly past the Bank of America on his way to the OK Corral. clink clink clink....

Many windows are lettered the way my Dad used to work, only not as nicely. I reflect that were he not 84 and very ill Dad could make a killing here. Stage coaches drawn by mules and heavy horses wait at the street corners. Today I am sharing the town with bicyclists, bikers, plain clothes tourists and people in costume. In that way it's a bit like a Renaissance Fair only with cowboys. People on cell phones amble past men armed with what I hope are replica six-shooters. I go into one gallery and find a new Zuni badger fetish (like i need another.) I visit the store whose owner is interested in my work. She will order in about a mont: it's not a perfect outcome but it will do. On my way back to the car I stop into another gallery and end up selling the owner some of my wolf prints. Of course I also buy: Oaxacan carvings are dirt cheap here. I tell myself that this is still Gem Show money. I need to stop doing that.

I ask for a good place to get coffee. The coffee at the hotel is free, but it comes in sad little cups and is rarely hot enough. I am told Big Nosed Kate's is good. Big Nosed Kate's is packed to the gills with tourists. I opt for the next place up, which is more like a diner but probably costs less. I order fried chicken and lemonade, and then coffee. While the cup is bigger, the coffee is still tepid.

I receive a phone call: I've left my car keys at the Blue-Eyed Witch. Oops.

After my visit to Tombstone, I return to Tucson. The moment I am back inside the city limits, the Tucson Effect strikes again. I had Mapquested the directions (my bad), but I stop for directions, get lost, call for directions, get lost, stop for directions again, and finally arrive at the shop. This shop also has a CAFE. I finally get my coffee. AHHHHHHHHHHH

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