Bringing yourself to my attention by backstabbing, bad-mouthing, and slandering me is not the safe game it was three years ago, back when I was content to simply ignore it.
That there are far too many people on this visit where the knowledge that I will not be getting the chance to catch up with them one on one, if at all, is actually an almost physically painful thought.
My biological mother is going to be extremely clucky about her grandchild.
That trying to do the right thing, and write a proper, well-thought out letter to the organisers of an event that is alienating what should be its core membership, is way harder than just posting a huge whinge on here, which is what everyone is actually asking me to do.
I can always discover new things about myself or my attitudes (I've found some interesting tweaks in what makes me comfortable with my own nudity around others).
That I have become some sort of old fannish fixture and go-to person. This both amuses and confuses me, and makes me slightly uncomfortable.
Oh, and if planning a party that will be going into the evening at a house with no power, I will have to get up early to buy candles in those little glass jars so that I can avoid wax spills.