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The Little Fayoumis had a lot of homework, and was not entirely speedy about getting it done. Meanwhile, Mommy had visited the dentist, and had the rest of the afternoon off due to speaking on the phone vs. Mr. Novocaine's little temporary legacy. marxdarx, Mommy, and I had one of those rare but excellent moments of seamless tag-team parenting. I pointed this out to marxdarx after the fact; he hadn't noticed it.

Someone had put a whiteboard and a corkboard out in the recycle area. I crowed, claimed them, brought them inside, cleaned them off, looked at the back wall of the kitchen, and smirked. I then tried them out for size -- perfect. I cleared the wall off and did some swift hammering -- installation. Ta-da! I've wanted that for so very long.

I wound up calling Darkside just to chat for a few moments before heading out en masse, and wound up speaking with his mother for a few moments before I got to talk with him. votania, "Richard", and I are on for Thursday! I made a few broad hints to Darkside, but he was focused on the upcoming holiday of the new Scooby Doo movie release rather than any other more classic holidays.

And then we were off, in the usual impeccable style, all four of us. We were rather scattered when we hit the bank, then I was dropped off over at freshstartwrite. Evidently, in my absence, the rest of the gang hit Mervyn's. *looks at starbrow* marxdarx was getting suited up for his upcoming job interviews, as befits a man with a college degree.

Writing group was interesting tonight. There was something in the air. We read a round of interesting but quiet pieces, and then Patricia read an essay on seeing Meg Ryan naked, and that opened the floodgates. Body types were discussed at length, and then we digressed, and digressed some more.... It's amazing how this group lets our hair down. Then another writer read another, more personal piece, and everyone shared their experiences on the same topic. I started stuttering again. One would think that I'd gotten over that by now. It's been a year and a half.

I read two pieces, in all -- something that was spurred by an interaction with a Distinctly Non-Fluffy sister-in-deity with (or versus) a gentler neopagan type whose mission includes Healing the Earth -- and then the short beginnings of a piece inspired by another piece. Our Pirate Queen wrote a piece as the Pisky Queen after the destruction of the nest some time ago, so I jumped on the Zombie Dentures plot bunny with glee. Evidently my reading style very much complements my writing style; I point out the hilarious in almost everything, more subtly than many, but quite distinctly. Due to my NPR-listening childhood (and of course the phone work), I have a radio or voice-over reading voice, which the crew decided fits me. My piece on Google Image Search was distinctly remembered, complete with many fanning themselves; I blushed and hid behind my folder. I suppose that I have the story that I started telling tonight to write up as well.

If I hadn't been wearing lipstick tonight, I swear my lips would have turned white even before I started talking. I know I was feeling cold all over. Clutching the star that your partner gave you doesn't do much to help when you're so cold that you can't feel his heat through the link. He would have said that it was residual shock, or something, I guess. Post-traumatic stress? And he would have wrapped me up in a blanket, handed me some hot tea, and let me hold his wrist.

It's been over a year. I shouldn't still be broken.

The rest of the Temple crew came in just as we were wrapping up. It took some time to come back to human from those very intense things that were shared. Then we zoomed off, with the intention of hitting Fry's Electronics before they closed. I broke out the chocolate orange sticks: bless my precognition that I'd need them tonight. I wasn't halfway human until halfway home, again, when that frozen place inside me finally melted and I could feel the warmth against my front left side again. It was too late to go to the Temple of Consumer Electronics, so we headed for home via the little Chinese food place on the corner. Yum.

Sadly, the combination of overstimulation, overtired, overheated, and overcaffienated Little Fayoumis with vegetable chow mein was not a favorable one. Mommy remarked at how such a scene was like nothing she'd seen from him before -- I reminded her to turn her mental clock backwards three years. Ah, yes. Yes indeed. Almost four years, now, is it? No, still three. Three on the 16th of April. The baffled king composing Halleluija. We've been together so long now.

I also mentioned something that would definitely contribute to the weird dynamics -- when it's just me, he knows it's me, and he doesn't have to clown around. When it's just Mommy, he's already got her attention, or is trying to get it. When it's everybody, he turns on, and into an absolute goofball, trying to get attention. And when those ploys for attention are not accepted, he tries again, harder and harder... heh. Classic, no?

Her purse went kaboom today, so after the Little Fayoumis was settled disconsolately in bed, finally, we went shopping. I got some Girl Scout Cookies -- thin mints and samoas. Wave not that peanut butter abomination at me -- coconut, caramel, chocolate, chocolate, and mint are where it is verily at. I also got a bathing suit replacement, a summer-weight black hat with a floppy brim, and what I'd gone there for: underpants. (Holes. In places where underpants were not intended to have holes. Replacements. Yay, the not having extraneous underpants-holes.) votania got some work shirts, a twin bathing suit, a purse, and assorted random necessary things.

Since we were both tired, there was verily Gossip. State of the Cow-Orkers, and state of the Thing with Darkside. I'm glad that at least some of her co-workers are nice.

And now: Loony crash. Anyone hear any good links on the file sharing news?
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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