We watched the final ep of Season 1 “Angel” last night, which was vaguely familiar to me, although I’d missed most of the season the first time ‘round and hadn’t really understood everything then. We’ll probably watch all the special features on the discs before moving on to Season 2.

It’s just after 10 a.m. now, and I’m back from taking Ken to the airport. The weather is blissfully overcast and I’ve got a nice hot cup of tea. (Insert Douglas Adams joke here.) The downside is, of course, that I miss Ken already.

Today I have to get one journal sent, and another started, and the Gate Booklet mostly designed, and a story mailed, and hopefully some writing done, too. I really should work on the Denise Little antho story, so I have time to get comments on it and get it to her well before the deadline and not look like a slacker. Anyway, folks are coming over for sewing tonight, too.

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Hm. I just got an invite to my 15-year college reunion. Next month. Like, I can just drop everything and fly to upstate NY in that time. Thanks, guys. Not that I want to go, of course. I pretty much still keep in touch with anybody I care to; I don’t even remember my roommates’ names. (I actually barely had roommates. I lived at home my freshman year, scared away my sophomore roommate w/in a matter of weeks and got the whole room to myself, share a room for half of junior year with a grad student before going to England for a semester, and lived off-campus my senior year.) The “great times and memories” listed in the cover letter are either “normal” stuff to me having grown up there, or stuff I didn’t do. (Although I would have put the “drunk bus” to good use had I known one existed. Or at least been amused watching it stagger down the street.)

In many ways, I should have gone to a smaller school, and I should have gone to one away from home. I would have thrived in that sort of environment. But, when your local state university branch offers you a full-tuition scholarship for four years, you don’t run screaming. You smile, thank them profusely, and hang out with all of your townie friends, and take piano lessons because, after all, they’re free.

Ah, I take some of that back. On the “missing” list is the bimbo I roomed with for a couple of days during orientation. She asked me, perkily, if I’d ever been in any pageants. I refrained from how I, in hindsight, should have commented (a sarcastic “do I look like I have the body for that?”) and just said no.

I don’t even know how Plattsburgh State even tracked me down.

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Much, much later. Let’s see. Started work on the new journal, plus got the deadline extended a little, which will help a lot. Got a goodly portion of the Gate Booklet done, but need to figure out what to do about the A&S schedule—it will take up five pages of the booklet, and that’s not including the class descriptions. At this point in time, I can’t for the life of me figure out what to do. The way I did the schedule last year to avoid this problem sucked.

Oh, and the electric saddle stapler isn’t working well—anybody have an idea where to take it for repair?—so with regards to the Combat Booklet errors, I either have to find red labels (which I can’t find online at Office Depot or Staples) or hand-correct 2500 copies, which will look bad. Bah humbug. Ken thought I could swing the cost of new printing _and_ finishing until I pointed out that folding/stapling cost more than $600.

Anyway, tonight was sewing night, and several people walked away with new tunics for GWW. Their enthusiasm and heartfelt thanks really made me feel good. Several kept offering to pay for extra thread or for the trim I gave them, etc., which was really sweet. I explained that it’s our way of giving back, because we can’t give back to the folks who helped us when we first joined the SCA, and that our greatest reward is seeing people walk around in their new garb and seeing them learn to make it on their own.

I got one story sent out, but I’m considering reworking the other one (and I could go in two different directions with it).

Now I’m just out of sorts because Ken is gone. I lose the concept of scheduling. I don’t know when to go to bed—I can go whenever I want to, but should I stay up and work? watch TV? I’m not use to dealing with only my opinion, if that makes any sense. And, I hate sleeping alone, so I avoid going to bed. I’m avoiding it by still writing this entry. Which I suppose means I should just post it and walk away from the computer and nobody will get hurt…