07.05.05

Happy aftermath. Everyone is wandering around today with a pained expression, either from staying up too late, or drinking too much.

I fell into the staying up too late camp. My body put the kibosh on any alcohol--at least for a few days.

MC-CC called around 16:00. I got ready, eyeing the neighbours with their acres of rapidly pinkening flesh laid across their front lawn like beached seals. Worse was the party down the street that had, I swear, every Shrubie within the tri-county area as guests. Every ridiculously large SUV had Shrub-approved stickers. *shudder* I had a momentary fantasy of grabbing my sword and doing my very best berserker impression...but that'd be tacky, and heaven knows I can't come up with bail. Of course, I'd be indicted on terrorism charges and that'd be the last anyone would ever see of me.

Stop cheering.

I got downtown, picked up MC-CC and his houseguest. We bought "beer" (i.e. Pabst Blue Ribbon) and cola beverages (o' what a good girl am I), and went up to Johnny's house. We hung out for a bit, played with his 1973 BSA (revving it, but only twice, I swear!), talked, laughed, and ooh'd and aahh'd over the special helmet that got MC-CC kissed in a bar...by a girl, even.

We took off to go to the barbecue over in Sellwood, but dropped off MC-CC's houseguest at the Red and Black coffeehouse. She had a show that night. On to get supplies for barbecuing. My belly was still a bit tender (you begin to see why I am not a huge drinker?), but I knew that I'd turned a corner. The end of the hangover is near when I crave something both greasy and spicy. The andouille sausage I got is both. Yay!

At the barbecue, I talked with a woman who'd never met me, but had read Trance Sister. That she had was both ego-gratifying and rilly, rilly cool. She had some nice things to say about my work. *beam*

As dusk fell, we wandered over to the bluff overlooking Oaks Park Bottoms *giggle* to enjoy the fireworks that the amusement park (Oaks Park Amusement--not long in imagination, eh?) sponsored. It was a decent show, lasted about half an hour, then we trooped back to the house.

It was time for *dramatic music* slot car racing. Whee! I haven't played with slot cars since I was still in single digits. What a wealth of memories.

Mater tells a story of coming home one time and finding me, my father, and his best friend sitting on the floor in the living room. His friend had brought over all of his track, and they'd married them together. There was track all over the living room, up and over the sofa, and into the dining area. That wasn't what gave her pause. It was that all three of sat in the living room with our helmets on, controllers clutched in our hands, and the sound of race cars from the Bonneville Salt Flats blaring over the stereo.

Did I ever really have a ghost of a chance at normal? Hell. Who wants normal anyway? *grin*

It took a bit to re-learn how to finesse turns, but we got up to speed and tore the roof off the sucker. Well, as much roof as can be torn whilst watching eensie race cars vroom around a track set up on a pool table.

Finally got everyone home just after midnight and headed out to the 'burbs.

Of course I stayed up too late reading.

Today, 06:00 came mighty quick.

*sigh*

Did I say that it's finally warm? It is--thus proving that there really are only two seasons in Oregon; Fourth of July and autumn.

I spent a good chunk of yesterday in the back garden. My happiness was assured, as it was finally warm enough to wear my slightly slutty bikini top that I knitted (in bubblegum pink, no less) and a ratty pair of jeans. Woohoo.

Now? Oh, I'm collapsin' and contributing bupkus to the human race. It's safer that way.

Go. Be fabulous.

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