Enjoy down time while it lasts, some say. I disagree. I dread down time. Right now, here I am, at this conference, hanging out, waiting for another wave of educators to flow by. Some will stop and check out the Bright Lights Vendor Booth and others will head into the Kenai Room on the right, or around the corner to another aptly named room.

I am in a good space, off the main drag, on the second floor, at the end of the hallway, just before it zags into another hallway. But for all practical purposes, this is the end of the road. Across from me are the vaccine people, Dylan and Tina. I talked to Tina for a bit – she had a coffee buzz going on. I did not. This morning, I showed Dylan a copy of an Upton Sinclair book and he took it and said thank you for the gift. I didn’t mean to give it to him, but hey, my job is to get books into the hands of appreciative readers, and he was sure appreciative. And undoubtedly, another copy will soon surface.

Yesterday, Pam, came in from Palmer in the early afternoon and just at the right moment in time. The stamp-a-thon had just begun. Conference attendees had just gotten their cards – vendors were to stamp the cards, then they’d be eligible for raffle prizes. Free, free, free, this is the name of the game here. Swag City, these conferences.

I had the attendees wait while I first told them all about the BLBP. Some switched gears slowly and barely heard what I had to say. Others switched gears rapidly and were receptive to what I had to say.

I threw the idea out there of having a book drive and renting a U-Haul and taking Anchorage books to Palmer. And I threw the idea out there, of there being a Satellite Bright Lights Book Project in Anchorage. This was like going into a ballpark late at night and tossing the baseball out into left field. It (I have learned) is easy to pass ideas on but harder to act upon them.

It’s only 11:20 a.m. and I, who just sat down, am very tired. I do not see the light at the end of the BLBP tunnel. I do see a pinprick, but I have to look hard to see it. I am heading home tomorrow. This is far too many conference days for me. I won’t do this for as many days again. Not unless someone is here to also pull the cart.

I did have breakfast on the 20th floor, in the Marriott Members Only lounge. I alternated watching the traffic down below and looking at the big screen television. The cars down below were like toys. And it was all pavement down there. As for the big screen, the news is all bad. . . Trump now wanting Ukraine’s mineral rights. How did it come to be that this man got elected president? I want to say to those who voted for him, I told you so, but those of us who didn’t vote for him are also going to pay the price.

I also thought some about a dream I had about Pete – his leg was somehow mangled, and it appeared as though it would have to be amputated. It’s good that dreams aren’t our reality.

If I don’t get up and get moving around, I will fall asleep.

Next: 53. 2/22/25: Done is Done