The Weekend Wrap-Up

I had some goals for this weekend:

1. Work on my writing.


2. Finish the beta/review work on my plate: a few stragglers from Antithesis Common, Jenni's Chapter Two of "Blowing Valaroma" (open on my comp right now, Jenni, so it's coming!), and Cheryl's novel.


3. Make candy for my friend Cindy's birthday and my coworker, who ordered some.

What I did:

1. Lots of stats. Eight hours worth.


2. Lots of hanging out with friends.


3. No candy, beta/review work, or writing.

Still, I can't be wholly disappointed. It was a fun weekend, although--aside from the stats--was not nearly as chock-full-o' productive pursuits as a normal weekend for me. The eight hours of stats pretty much fried my brain, although only one section was actually challenging. The rest was fairly straightforward and done in a jiffy. (My co-conspirator is supposed to be bringing me an "envelope of money" this afternoon, so we'll see. An envelope of money doesn't sound all bad....)

Potter got to hang out for quite some time, which was good, as his work/school schedule has made him less a permanent fixture in our apartment than usual. *waves to yuanrang and offers him a sausage* And our friends Cindy and Andy hung out for quite a while on Sunday. I'm beginning to feel like a social animal again, although wait a month: I'll want to crawl back into my cave again with naught but my husband and muses for company.

But two memorably funny things happened this weekend. Yesterday, after Cindy and Andy left, Potter ripped a huge fart.

I said, "Potter! Sheesh! Why'd you do that?" and he replied, "Because I couldn't do it while Cindy and Andy were here!"

I told him, "I don't know if it's a compliment or an insult that you won't do something like that in front of them but you will in front of us." He assured me that it was a compliment.

It's kind of a bizarre way of saying, "I care," though.

Then, for supper at the Ellicott Mills Brewing Company, Potter ordered something called the "sausage mixed grill," which basically consists of an assortment of sausages. When it was sitting in front of him, I couldn't help it. I started laughing. "What, Dawn?" he asked, although he must have known where it was going, even before I said, "How do you like your sausage fest?"

I would start laughing at random times throughout the meal and Potter would just glaaaare...but he's used to me by now. I just find something very amusing about sausage. I can't stand it myself--meat or vegetarian--but there's something about a tube filled with ground up meat....

Last night, trying to fall asleep, some idiot kept clicking the remote lock on his car, so the damned thing kept beeping, over and over and over again. There I lay, nerves humming--after convincing the muses that last night was for sleeping, and that during my relatively low-key week, I will pay them the attention they deserve--and tense as a board with Bobby the same beside me. Finally, I said, "Can I be a damned hermit? And live in a cave somewhere? Well, I'd take you. We'd be a hermit couple. All I'd need was my laptop and you could have your NHL Center Ice package." Of course, good luck finding a cave with electricity.

But between the guy beeping his automatic lock and the next-door neighbors--who smoke so heavily that the reek comes through the walls and into our apartment--and their little yapping dog with a bark as piercing as an icepick right into my eardrum, humanity looks pretty bleak at times. I know that--like my post about Christianity yesterday--it's only one or two idiots making all the decent folks look bad. I guess it only takes one asshole to make the whole place stink.

Still, I'm considering my prospects as a bona fide Lord of Caves....