We awakened on saturday to the sound of The Dickens dumping things out on the floor. After picking up the mess, we ordered an in-room breakfast that set us back nearly as much as a nights stay. The young 'uns showed their appreciation by eating very little of it (not that I blame them - it was very average fare).
After making ourselves presentable, we began the long trek to the elevators. Then, after a long wait while people on every floor got on or off, we descended to the second floor to drop off the three older kids at the official mamagathering childcare center. Then we snuck away to listen to Ayun Halliday talk about autobiographical writing. This was helpful and enjoyable. Lexy showed up towards the end because... well, because he's like that. Then came the long process of trying to get certain members of our party to nap. I ended up going to the panel on feminism in the media by myself. Music was represented by Kristin Hersh, print was handled by the editor of Bitch magazine, visual media was presented by... a gorilla (actually a member of guerillawomen wearing a mask), and film was handled by a screenwriter (who somewhat sheepishly admitted to being currently employed writing for sitcoms). They got a good discussion going about the insidious influence and general crappiness of popular media and popular culture, with general agreement that "things gotta change, dammit!" The gorilla had some cool pictures of billboards that her group was responsible for - the anatomically correct Oscar stands out: a hairy, middle-aged, white male. Kristin Hersh came up with the best two-word definition for top 40 that I have yet heard: "fashion sounds". Of course, I had to leave in the middle because Lexy once again wanted to check to make sure we hadn't decided to leave without him.
Later, we went to the beach so that the kids could run around in the sand and get sandy. The Dickens decided that she was "scared of the wawa". The boys decided that they weren't scared of the wawa, at least until the large, dead jellyfish (the size of a hubcap, I kid you not) started appearing at the tide line. Lexy moved away from the water at this point. I looked around for something to scoop it up with so we could examine it more closely, but the ocean took it back.
Then, sandy and tired, we went in search of the Veteran's memorial auditorium, where the dinner was to be held. We found it without too much trouble, and a good time was had by all. The Dickens charged up and down, and at one point liberated a fake baby from the doula table and loudly refused to give it up every time I tried to give it back to its rightful owners. Lexy ran around with a boy he had met in the childcare room earlier (and whose mom has actually read this - she recognized Jen earlier in the day from our blogs - If you're reading now, I'm sorry, I forgot your name. My memory isn't what it used to be. Of course, I forget what my memory used to be, but I digress...). The food was good. The people were cool. The product on sale was radical, which is a good thing. I'm only sorry that we couldn't buy anything from Ayun Halliday's table (we already have everything). The table was manned by none other than the famous Inky for a good part of the evening. I was too starstuck to talk to her.
Willow now owns a little jumper that reads: "I would rather grow up than be born again".
Later, tired and still sandy, we drove back to the hotel and began the long journey to our room. Outside our window was L.A.'s attempt at public art - a large circle of 100 foot (or more) columns plopped down in the spaces around a freeway interchange. They looked like huge, glowing sex toys. As we watched, they gradually changed colors. If there was a pattern to it, I couldn't figure it out. It was kind of cool though, and it sure held the kids' attention for awhile.
At last, exhausted, we fell asleep.

tomorrow: the journey home.

cds I listened to while enjoying another night of small papers: Roy Harper "Come out Fighting Ghengis Smith", Dar Williams "The Beauty of the Rain" and Beautiful People ltd "s/t"