[Started this on Monday, finished it on Tuesday, but still smushing it all together. Get a glass of wine and settle in—it's a long one…]

Another Monday. The best thing about this Monday is that I'm taking Wednesday and Friday off, and working at home on Thursday. Weird, yes, I know. But Wednesday is the Styx concert at the Ventura County Fair, and Friday is the concert at the Anaheim House of Blues. Both are GA, so we must get in line early. And I really didn't want to drag my sore, tired body up to Santa Barbara on Thursday. What's also nice is that I'll be able to sleep in a bit on Wednesday and Thursday, at least.

Had a very full, very fun weekend. I got little of note accomplished, but I rather think maybe I needed a weekend like that (and I confess it helps knowing I'll have a little extra time at home this week to clean off my desk, catching up on story subs and filing, etc.).

We left a little early from work on Friday. It was just Kirk and I, and we were both exhausted. He was kind enough to drop me off at my chiropractor's. My doctor adjusted me, both neck and lower back (which had gradually gotten better through the week, but not entirely pain-free). I sat up and said something about my neck. He felt around to see where I was tensed up, and when he pressed against the base of my skull, whoosh!, the headache I'd been fighting with all day flared higher. So he made me lie back down and did more cracking and popping, and even if my headache wasn't gone, at least I could turn my head a bit farther without feeling like I was ripping a muscle. Stupid neck.

Ken was there to pick me up, but we swung over to Trader Joe's and picked up food for lunch at the tourney (foccacia, fresh mozzarella, and pesto; we had tomatoes at home) and brunch on Sunday (lemon curd, hazelnut spread). We grabbed dinner at Boston Market; my chicken pot pie was adequate, although a little salty (which is a problem with processed foods for me). Then we stopped at Von's for a few items we couldn't find at TJ's, and went home.

Ken headed out to the garage to, er, build things for the event (lots of woodworking involved; I just stayed out of the way), and I staggered around trying to figure out through my headache haze what I needed to do to get ready. When Maren arrived, I greeted her with “Welcome to Casa Mayhem!”

And thank the gods that Maren was there. Not just because she's a fantastic friend that I don't see nearly enough (she works, takes classes, has both indoor cats and takes care of the neighborhood strays, and lives a couple of hours away), but also because I had to paint to banners for the English (Cross of St. George) and Spanish (Cross of Burgundy) sides of the event. There is no way I would've gotten both banners done, between my exhaustion and headache. As I told Ken last night, I would've simply had a meltdown. With help, the banners took half the time, plus I was able to foist the more elaborate design (Cross of Burgundy) off on Maren; straight lines were all I could manage. Finally, there was the truly pleasant distraction of chatting with her, allowing me to ignore my headache, which faded as the evening wore on.

Maren tried on the various bits of pirate garb I had for her, and we pulled together an outfit (my old leather bodice fit her pretty well, hurrah!) for her. We probably did some other stuff, but I was running on fumes that night, and it's all something of a blur. I just remember being very happy she was there.

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I have just had the most confusing series of e-mails. There are two Styx shows this month and three next month. Well, there are more-those are the ones I'm going to. Now, imagine about four or five women e-mailing each other back and forth, trying to coordinate things. In three separate e-mails, somebody had the day wrong for at least one show. I'm pretty sure I was right every time, but only because I've got a calendar sitting next to me.

I'm scared to go back into my meeting. I'll have another 30 messages when I come back out…and, like as not, we still won't have decided where we're meeting Wednesday, whether anyone's spending the night Wednesday, when we're meeting Friday and who's making the lunch reservation…don't even get me started about September's shows and who might come to Ken's birthday party…

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On Friday, I left a Post-It Note on my desk with the number “8366” written on it. That's it. I have no idea what it means. Not a bloody clue.

I guess I'll stick it to my monitor as a warning.

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AAAAAUUUUGH! Mirrormask opens the same night as Serenity which is the same night as the Styx concert in Palmdale! Which is the night before Ken's birthday party! AAAAUUUUUGH!!!

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Right. Where was I? Friday night. My headache mostly subsided by the time we went to bed, but it was after midnight, and I was pretty woozy overall. There was no way I was getting up with Ken to be on site by 7 a.m. Not hardly. Maren and I slept 'til 8, showered, packed the cars, she made the sandwiches, etc. I laced her into her bodice, and she laced me into mine…at which point we discovered that the lacing for mine was way too short-so we had to switch laces and start over. Argh. Then, halfway to the site, I realized I'd forgotten the damn banners we'd painted! I sent her on ahead, and turned around to go get them. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to call Ken, who told me that the reason I'd forgotten them was because he'd taken them with him. So I turned back around and managed to actually get to the site that time.

The event was…well, by halfway through the day, I was crooning “I love Pirate Tourney” to every other person I talked to. Not just because Ken was wearing a sleeveless shirt with a fake tattoo on his bicep. Not just because there was a mouthwatering array of cleavage at every turn. Not just because my “I'm a Pirate: Kiss Me!” pin worked very well indeed. But all of those things helped an awful lot.

Other highlights were a very successful set of fighting scenarios and Eleyn's pirate bloomers with the big red X-marks-the-spot on her bum. I managed, for once, to take a fair number of pictures (most of them either of Ken or of cleavage). Speaking of cleavage, some of us decided that we should do a Darach Cleavage Calendar for a fund-raiser. Without names, so people have to guess (a veritable Whose Hooters?). Although the joint picture of Morgana and myself will be December (Happy Holidays!) and Elizabeth, with her fake pirate chest tattoo on her chest—get it?—would have to be August, for Pirate Tourney.

Dinner was at the usual Pirate's Grub and Grog, a curiously named sports bar/restaurant (although they seem to have removed a fair amount of the sports accoutrement, so there is hope). Note to self: Have picture taken with life-sized Captain Morgan statue next year.

The highlight of this revel every year is that Fred, who in modern life is a balloon-sculpting guy, makes a ton of balloon…things. First, swords for everybody. Red swords for half of a table, then green swords for the other half, telling the red swords that the green swords are making fun of them. Then white swords for another table… This year, he made balloon hoops and we had to keep them in the air with our swords and pass them up and down the table. (I'll mention here that we always over-tip the waitresses for being so patient with the crazy people in the side room-and in fact I saw at least one with a balloon sword and scabbard serving us.)

After that, Fred got into making the traditional silly balloon hats. I got pictures of those, too, and will endeavor to get them posted soon. Maren got a pink-and-purple heart with deely-bobber things poking out the front. Ken (who, sadly, had left before Fred finished the hat, but I brought it home for him and immediately took a picture) got the most adorable fish with the most adorable pouty fish lips blowing an amazing stream of bubbles, nestled in seaweed in several shades of green. This was out of balloons, my pets! Finally, Cat arrived after I'd gotten home, bearing the gift (not a hat) that Fred had given to her but she realized immediately belonged to me-basically a naked redheaded woman, sitting curled up so there were no naughty bits. Made out of balloons!

Astonishing.

Anyway. Back at the house, Ken, Maren, Cat, Lilya, and I nibbled on chocolate and talked, and Lilya and I indulged in a little Stag's Breath liqueur, and then we all poured our tired, sunburnt* bodies into bed. (*Ken, Maren, and I all put on sunscreen, but missed spots. Oops.)

Sunday was brunch day. Let's see… I made an egg/cheese/green chili dish while Amy did the dishes, bless her heart! Ken made crêpes, and cooked the bacon and sausage that Tina brought. Bill & Lynn brought tri-tip and the fixings for mimosas (mmm…mimosas). Morgana and Brian brought…um, I forget. Lilya picked up various pastries, and crumpets and muffins. Egann brought bagels, I think. Cat finally gave in and bought us a coffee maker so she won't have to get up and go out to find coffee every time she spends the night with us (Yes, I'm teasing. She bought it so nobody will have to do that!), and coffee and creamers. There were other juices, and perhaps more food, and I really hope I'm not forgetting anybody. No, I did the math twice just now, and that was everybody. We used the china and the silver, and had pots of tea as well, and it was all terribly civilized (except for the usual questionable humor and general mirth and merriment).

We ordered pizza in the early evening. Throughout the day, folks wandered in and out, did handwork, talked about any number of things, laughed a lot. Various music played in the background. Occasionally we looked things up online. The final few left after 9 p.m. Ken and I did a bit of cleanup (there wasn't much, because we have utterly amazing friends who'd already done 99% of the dishes!), then sat on the sofa and regrouped, talking about the event, the weekend, and the week and month ahead. Soon thereafter, collapsing into bed was a priority.

Good weekend.

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Last night we watched Monk over dinner, and I spent the rest of the evening cleaning off my desk-receipts into Quicken, e-mail, etc. I'm not “done” (never will be!), but my I have a cleared workspace. Tonight, I should start working on getting many returned stories back into the mail, and perhaps start the first steps of getting my writing files in order.

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I just updated my anthology publications list (see link above). You can pre-order Sex at the Sports Club or Sex in Uniform. Go on. You know you want to.

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My new .sig: “It doesn't matter whether the glass is half empty or half full. What matters is whether you've got another bottle of champagne chilled.”

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Tonight we ate Indian food (couldn't find naan in the grocery store, so we broiled pita topped with butter and garlic, and couldn't tell much of a difference) and watched a CSI: Miami, and then came upstairs and worked on stuff, such as 40 Days and 40 Nights of Ken (see previous entry). And listening to the very funny Styx podcast.

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Currently Reading: Time Management from the Inside Out, Julie Morgenstern; Queen of the Slayers, Nancy Holder (chronicling what happens after the last episode of “Buffy”)
Lately Listened To: silly Styx podcast
Recently Watched: CSI: Miami