The weekend went by so fast, that when I went to jot a few lines in my paper journal over breakfast, I mis-dated the entry as being from the 13th. Oooops.

On Saturday, I actually managed to accomplish all the errands on my to do list (except for getting the car smog checked). Plus a few extra ones that I made up on the spur of the moment. And when I returned a big stack of books to the public library, I resisted the impulse to come away with another big stack: I came away only with one of Datlow and Windling's Year's Best anthos.

By the time I was done cleaning up the kitchen, I was tired and hot and sweaty, so I spent most of the rest of the day lounging in front of a running fan and drinking Diet Pepsi Twist. I played with the Playstation 2. I talked to Daniel on the phone. I read Tim Pratt's "Annabelle's Alphabet" from the aforementioned Year's Best, and enjoyed it very much. (I meant to tell Tim how much I liked it when I saw him on Sunday, but I didn't, 'cos I'm a dope.)

Sunday morning, I got up late and pottered around the house. I baked cornbread, and made too much batter for the pan I had, and now I have burned cornbread all over the bottom of my oven, but what remained in the pan turned out just fine. In the afternoon, me and the cornbread headed over to Lake Merritt to celebrate Mary Anne's birthday party.

I don't know if the cornbread had a good time, but I sure did. I saw some old friends, and met some fun new people, and ate good food, and sat in the shade and was amused by the antics of other people's babies. Mary Anne's friends, among their many other virtues, have astonishingly attractive and well-behaved children. Even the littlest one there only cried when he fell face down into a plate of canteloupe. I would probably cry if I fell face down into a plate of canteloupe.

I sort of wish that I'd been in a more extroverted mood, since there were many people there I'd have liked to have conversed more with. But it was very pleasant just to sit on the grass and soak up the ambiance.

Then the sun set, and I toddled off home.

When I got up this morning, I just really didn't want to go to work. I wanted to loll someplace with a book and some iced coffee. But I dragged myself off to work, and in an hour or two, I banging cheerily away at my manuals. I really, truly am almost done with the set I've been working on for the past month. I took a break from them this afternoon to look over the project I'm going to start next, so that I can have fresh eyes when I look over the final printouts. And I will no doubt find all sorts of embarrassing errors with those fresh eyes, and so I won't really be done. But.

I have long suspected that my boss is a member of the X-Men. The snag in my theory was the absence of any verifiable mutant superpowers, aside from the ability to spot a mis-kerned '/V' pair at 100 yards. (Not that that's not an impressive superpower in its own right.) So, when he revealed that he doesn't sleep on nights when there is a full moon, that's when things clicked. Werewolf tendencies. He's the Ledding Lycanthrope.

Me, I'm just the Fighting Uruk-Hai, but that's another story.