I was honoured and humbled to be voted in as this year's Sisters in Crime national president.  Meeting Sara Paretsky - the founding mother and first president - as the departing president (Laura Disilverio) and immediate past president (Hank Phillippi Ryan) all rolled over so that one could roll on, was one of those "how is this my life?" moments. Taking Celine, the official seal of office of the president of Sisters in Crime, and Dion, the Anthony raven, home was another one.  

Fun was had. So was cake.

Bouchercon was wonderful.  The sun shone; the Minnesotans defrosted; the official drink - "Blood on The Beach"  - was thoroughly checked out. I had more fun than can possibly be allowed: interviewing the toastmaster, grilling the panellists on the espionnage panel, talking to my countrypeople on the Scottish panel, running about with the mic at the bloody murder panel, winning an Anthony, losing a Macavity, being voted in as Sisters in Crime president . . .

There are many photos, but here's my favourite: me and Doris Ann Norris, the (self-described) 2000-yr-old librarian, outside the hotel.  She rocks. 

My  new favourite place to be at my long-time favourite time of year

We plotted like maniacs for an hour at WTF yesterday. Here's the resulting skeleton - twist redacted. And here's the story. (It  might have been more polished if I hadn't judged Wigtown's Got Talent last night too.)