Howdy, all! I’m in a much better mood. I think I needed to get away for a little while.

Let’s see. We didn’t get to Santa Monica, because we were late leaving to run errands on Saturday (quelle surprise). No matter—both things will still be there. Got up to Meg & Matt’s, and Ken fixed their table, and I helped a bit with supper (shrimp as an hors d’oeuvre [damn, I spelled it right on the first try! Worship me!], chicken with abundant cloves of garlic, spinach, yellow squash, crescent rolls, and chess pie), and we watched the first two episodes of “Brideshead Revisited”. After supper, Ken fixed their TV set-up (since they got satellite, they haven’t been able to use the VCR or DVD player), and then we watched a bit of first-season “Angel”. But Meg had to leave because it would have given her nightmares (it was “Rm w/a Vu”, the haunted Cordelia apartment episode. In hindsight, it is awfully creepy; the fact that I’d seen it a couple of times and remembered the funny parts made me forget the creepiness), so we stopped and watched VH-1 Classics, which was doing all 80s. So I announced I was moving in. Meg was going to put a sewing machine in front of me, and I would make her garb and watch 80s videos, and she would feed me. It was an excellent arrangement, we thought. Anyway, they tended to show weird videos—a few bands/singers we’d never even heard of (and between the four of us, we’ve heard of an awful lot), or B-sides/not the hits. But I got to see Ultravox’s “Reap the Wild Wind”, which was awesome.

Unfortunately, Ken and I curled up on the fold-out sofa in the living room with the other TV to continue watching, and VH-1 Classics switched to 60s! Grrr. So we watched a bit of Headbanger’s Ball, then turned everything off.

Also unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep last night for the life of me. My left hip has been aching, for one thing. It does that on and off when I sleep on that side, curled up with Ken. But it’s been constant for the past few days/nights. I lay down and it immediately starts to hurt. So there was that. Meanwhile, I have a vivid imagination—I’m a writer, after all—and when I’m overtired or in a funk, I can imagine all sorts of depressing shit, like death of loved ones, people getting pissed at me, the pain in my hip being the signal of a degenerative disease that will leave me wheelchair-bound… Yeah, that’s the way my brain works sometimes. I was almost drifting off when Hobbes (M&M’s greyhound) decide to rummage through the garbage for a snack, so I grudgingly got up, returned paper plates to the garbage, and put the garbage up on the counter. Went back to bed. Got back up to take Advil. Discovered there was only a single lone Advil in the overnight bag. Took it. Went back to bed. Tried to shut off brain… I did sleep eventually, but it wasn’t enough.

Wee darling Julian woke up early this morning, and commenced singing, which would have been adorable had I not been desperate for sleep. She also happily talked to herself whilst peeing with the bathroom door open, thus providing sound effects. Part of her conversation went, “…and Dayle and Ken and Mommy and Daddy and mumble mumble mumble”. I decided that she was plotting to destroy us all, which, after the Magic Schoolbus/spider incident, can’t be that far off, really.

Eventually we got up, ate breakfast kindly cooked by Meg, and headed on our way. We went to Muirenn’s and Ken fixed her exercise machine, and in thanks she took us out for Mediterranean food for lunch. It was tasty, although the salad wasn’t Mediterranean. No feta, for one thing. Italian dressing, for another. (Okay, yes, Italy is on the Mediterranean, but this was more Turkish/Greek kebab-type food.)

We took a detour on the way home, picking a fun road to ride on. It was Beach Blvd., but into the mountains. (For some reason, Beach Blvd.—and, for that matter, Harbor Blvd.--doesn’t parallel the coast, but “goes down to the coast”. So, we went north, eons away from the coast, into the mountains.) It was appropriately twisty and fun, and I realised it was just what I needed. Sometimes I closed my eyes and let myself go with the leaning of the bike, reminding myself that relinquishing control can be a positive thing. Sometimes I looked at the scenery: the mountains startlingly clear above the haze of LA; the cacti and succulents that grew out of bare rock, reminding me that even when things look bleak, nature provides what we need to survive, and that other living things besides humans don’t bemoan what they haven’t got, they just use what’s available and continue on.

Although it was a bit cooler in the mountains, the ride back south was hot until the marine breezes hit us, reminding us why we live this close to the ocean. We arrived home, stripped, and headed into the pool, which is still a wee bit cool, but not bad at all. Then we lay in the sun, and frolicked, and eventually noticed we were getting a bit pink and headed inside.

I got a bit of work done here and there, and made potato casserole for supper, and watched the two-hour season finale of “Charmed”. Bloody hell! Is what I think happened really what happened? And is my strange suspicion about Chris grasping at straws? I don’t want to give away spoilers, so if you want to talk about it, e-mail me privately.

Uhm, so, yeah. Getting sleepy. I’m almost finished the first big spiral on the hem of my tunic. I’m toying with the idea of just doing the front, because I’m feeling the push to do all the projects for Gyldenholt Anniversary. We’ll see. I’ve been researching rose beads and hassocks/kneelers (the latter which makes me wish I were back in Britain).

Oh! Meg gave me my gorgeous leather coronet that she made for me (with period Welsh knotwork and triskeles), which is the whole reason I’m making a new outfit! All shall be displayed at Darach Anniversary this coming weekend.

I’m feeling the need to curl up in bed with a book. ‘Night, pets.