Yesterday Doug, Mom, Martha, Barbara, Francis, and Florence and I went to the National Book Festival on the Mall.  It was a dreary day, but the rain held off for the most part.  We all met at our house and then drove to get as close as we could to the Virginia Square Metro station.  I have to say, we weren't as blown away this year as last, but it might just be choices we made.  Some of our choices were based on seating, we just stayed in some areas because we didn't want to stand the rest of the day.  I don't know how they could make that better, but there were some real shouting matches over seating.  During Salman Rushdie this one woman just continued to stand, and block others' views, despite a lot of yelling at her.  I really enjoyed hearing Tony Horowitz and then later, his wife Geraldine Brooks.  Rushdie was interesting,and Alexander McCall Smith was delightful.  Richard Price wasn't sure he wanted to be there, or was uncomfortable, but still made me want to read his latest book figuring that he's just human and can't be a great writer and speaker.  Philippa Gregory was an author of the public librarians were familiar with -- kind of a bodice-ripping historical fiction type -- and she was so much fun.  I'm going to get some of her audio-editions for the car.