Life's rich pageant

Me: "Kinda weird. We're having a geekfest on the second anniversary of domesticat."

Jessica: "Oooh. We should have a cake!"…and so year three of writing for this site begins in much of the way that years 2 and 1 began, with me sitting in front of the computer in my pajamas.

In television, it's customary to wrap up a season with a nail-biter of a plot twist, to keep the viewers hanging until the beginning of next season. While online journal writing is often a lot like screenwriting (how does one present the daily events of one's life in a fashion that's both interesting and compelling, even to those who don't know the players involved?), the idea of 'seasons' is a big difference between the two.

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Geekfest. Once again.

It's that time of year, when friends start magically appearing from far corners of the country, gathering for a weekend in which we really don't have a lot of stuff actually planned.

I picked up Gareth tonight at the airport, fresh in from the other side of the planet. The Atlanta->Huntsville flight was early, as usual, and Gareth actually arrived at the Huntsville airport before I did. He was at the baggage claim counter, calmly speaking with an attendant."Where will you be staying while you're here?" she asked. Gareth turned to me, and I recited my address.

"Lost a bag, eh?"


"How many?"

"Only one I checked. I saw it in Atlanta, though, so I know it at least made it to the States." A bit of a relief, that; always nice to know what continent your luggage is on. "I did pack things like a razor and whatnot in my carryon, so it's not like I'll be desperate in the meantime."


Ready or not, here we go. Geekfest number three officially drops into gear tomorrow. John flies in at just after two p.m., weather and planes and schedules and everything else permitting. He has our home number and my cell number, and hopefully I won't receive a call.

Calls from travelers generally aren't good news, so I'll hope for a silent phone tomorrow.

Not sure why I'm so quiet and tired and introspective about it all at this point. One might suppose it's my brain gearing up for what's going to be a long and tiring weekend. The house is ready for visitors—or, well, will be as soon as I tidy the kitchen tomorrow (always the chore that should wait until last). Guest bathroom's ready, as is the guest bedroom. The living room is generally tidied and picked up, despite my current thoughtline that says perhaps I should tidy the coffee table up a bit.

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Mind the gap...

Everyone keeps asking, what’s it all about?
I used to be so certain and I can’t figure out
What is this attraction?

[duncan sheik]

Welcome back. Life returns, the friends go home, the cats relax, and my fingers start tapping almost of their own accord. They make it clear that whether I want to or not, it's time to start writing again—not because I should but because I must.

"And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
But I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay"


Put the music on. Don't turn on the light. Listen to the cats in the next room, industriously tussling each other in brotherly fashion. Despite the fact that no one is here but me, I attempt to physically hide the fact that I am writing—because, of course, if no one knows I'm writing, no one will know to ask me whether or not I was able to finish what I started.

oi, thud.

I have survived geekfest.

My house still isn't so sure it agrees with me. :)

Either way, the geekfest pictures are up.

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t minus one.

On what I have left to do for geekfest 2.0, which begins tomorrow:

Recipient (Divide By Zero):
>Probably. After dinner tonight I'll scrub down the kitchen, and then mop the
>floor. Then I've gotta clean the bathroom. Tomorrow morning I'll put fresh
>sheets on the guest bed (for Brad) and on the sofa bed (for Brian and Suzan)
>and then I'll be good to go.

*** Message (#7) from Divide By Zero at 18:40 ***
>you're a beastie. You know that, right?

Recipient (Divide By Zero):

*** Message (#9) from Divide By Zero at 18:41 ***
>a holy terror of domesticity. a primal force of hostessing. a grizzled
>combat veteran of the war of playing house.

So much to do.
But Dan's right. I do love this. Given the choice between this life and what I had before—living in a town where I knew no one and had no friends—I will take this. No questions asked.

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