I fended off anything like that with some history -- the oldest meaning of the five-pointed star that I know was the Sumerian, meaning (simplified) "human", and then it meant, later, man standing upright under God (I demonstrated), and lately it's been adopted by some of the neopagan religions.
And, actually, Mr. Clueless, the Star of David has six points. So we talked about the various different number of points on stars. It would have been a lot nicer if I hadn't been creeped out by the guy, for no discernable reason.
River wasn't in, so we didn't get his afghan to him. The John I e-mailed turned out to be the right John, and I called, and I chatted with Jez a bit, and we'll be dropping by tomorrow. Yay!
My room's almost ready to have stuff stacked back in there, but I want full access to my books to weed out the ones I don't want. I have an impressive pile in the bin to take to the used book store tomorrow. I have the feeling that tomorrow is going to be one errand after another, and I really should get some sleep.
I'll be meeting Tay-tay in the baggage claim at Sea-Tac on Thursday around noonish, and we'll be hanging for a little while between flights.
I want to stop believing in the things that I can only see out of the corners of my eye at this hour of the night because a) I know I'm prone to hallucination when I'm tired, and b) if some of the things I think I might have seen I actually did see, there are more things that I didn't see that I should have seen, and not everything out there is friendly, and I don't want to get shredded by something that I do believe in when not-believing will make it go poof.
My parents have been very glad to have me visiting, and my willingness to clean my room has evidently been astonishing. (Maybe they didn't note that there was a personality swapover in the interim, and that they're dealing with the inheritor of Shanna rather than the inheritor of Joan-prime, which would be Marah.) Evidently my insights on helping deal with problem children are also useful. (I've been dealing with the Little Fayoumis, and he would be a problem child if I let him. Half or more of this new patience has been learned to help deal with him...)
There is crud in my lungs. There is crud in my ears. Damn straight it had better all get out before Thursday morning.
I woke up Tuesday to a bald-faced hornet trying to buzz its way out through the screen on the window in the cabin. I was Not Amused, and trapped it in the glass peanut-butter jar that used to hold only matches. Now it holds one irritated bald-faced hornet and the thing that it had been carrying as a little snack. Mama will try to remember that it's in there so that it doesn't sting her later when she tries to light the fire in the stove in the cabin this winter.
Arrows of the Queen is more detailed and interesting than I remember it being.