Howdy ho, it's August. Whatever.
I'm simultaneous doing fairly well and busy being mildly irate. The delicate nature of this balance is a crazy miracle that I can not claim any credit for producing. It's my life, but I just live it. I don't make up the rules.
I missed a family reunion this weekend because my father didn't see fit to inform me of it. He asked Squirt to show up, because Squirt doesn't hate his daddy's guts. Dad can show him off, but I'm not a trophy, so I don't get informed of the reunion.
As I blubbered to a friend the other day, "I've basically been forced to conclude that I am the kind of woman that makes men like my father run in abject fear." It would be so much funnier if it weren't so damn true.
I LARPed for the first time later that day, though, so it wasn't all bad. My character got to follow people around and run in abject fear from a big flaming wreck. (I hate R�tshreck. Someone gets the ability to never die of old age or disease, along with strength and powers -- and they're suddenly, stupidly afraid of lit candles. Whoever thought that up needs to -- well. Somebody just wanted to show off their high school German, I suspect. *bites tongue*) I didn't get anything done in-game, but I got to talk to a lot of the players. I think I got hit on. Repeatedly, actually, and I can't say I was unimpressed with the guy doing to the flirting, either. At the very least, he's persistent. And he bought cherries when we all went out to eat, just to see me eat one in my little naughty way. *eg*
I found out later that Ruby, who I had known would almost certainly be there, had been curious about why I came. So of course the logical person to ask about my reasons for coming would be -- Jo. Well, that's who she asked, anyway. Apparently Jo gave her a "well, duh!" look and responded patiently with "um, I asked her [to come]". Hee. I try to be a good girl (sometimes!) but there a moments when I just have to grin.
Honestly, it's not like I want Ruby dead or something. She could have asked me. As I recall, she bought me a Mt. Dew, and a kind young man brought it to me. I felt all waited-on. 'Twas cool. I'm not sure why she didn't ask me directly, but eh. Trying to understand her gives me a headache. Being around her at close range also apparently gives me a headache, which is confusing. Probably it was just the caffeine rush after having abstained from soda for a couple of days. That must be it. That, or Martian radiation is cooking my brain because I didn't wear a tin-foil helmet. Heh.
I need to figure out how to make it less taxing to write at Pro these days. I think I need to recruit some people to write there. Higher membership would alleviate the plotting burden on each person. There's also a bunch of -- politics, I guess. I hate politics too, and I want to snap a wet towel at whoever thought that physically and mystically powerful bloodsucking corpses would still be dabbling in elitist social sniping. Anyway, there's just some stuff at Pro that's hard to sum up. I guess the closest that I can manage is to say that we seem to have a pretty whole group of writers right now, and that's making some of us uneasy. The last time we got complacent and comfortable with our unstoppable little group, we wound up with several mega-plot puppies bailing over a relatively short span of time.
Fear my disjointed tangents!