I had a great time at CONvergence. If you didn't see me, it was because I was in disguise as my alter ego. If you're so inclined, I wrote a bit about my experiences (and other stuff) over at her LJ.
I forgot to mention that on Sunday, Lynne Thomas and her husband Michael came over to our place to finally pick up a box of my papers for her manuscript collection at the Northern Illinois University. I sent a long a box of unpublished writing, including some dorky stuff I wrote in high school that I'd saved... well, probably just for this moment. And after she and Michael left, of course, I found a whole other box of stuff up in the attic, which includes a bunch of really awesomely dorky children's stories I wrote while board at my job at Pillsbury.
But the thing I realized going through that "extra" box last night is that I have really quite consciously lived my life as though I hoped to be famous one day. I saved every bit of writing, no matter how bad. I organized it (loosely) and put it somewhere for THE FUTURE.
I can't decide if that makes me forward-thinking or totally narcissistic.