Listening: 94.9FM (dude, remember what alternative was supposed to be? these guys will remind you)
Mentally Replaying: Some Tori
I'd rather be: At the Tori concert!


All right so I told you about Comic-con on 7/19.

On 7/20 Alexa was baptised. Deacon Manny led the the ceremony. He's a really sweet man and has been with the parish for a long as I can remember. He's starting to show his age (he's a grandpa these days) and I can't imagine St Mary's without him, especially the Spanish masses. Anyway, a lot of the families getting their kids baptized clearly didn't hang out at church much and he was firm but very friendly with them. Alexa immediately took a shine to him and didn't fuss when he drained a cupful of chilly water over her head (it was fairly warm and us adults were a teensy bit envious of the cool water).

She was wearing a lovely little white dress with a lacy vestment that had doves embroidered onto it. She must have known how wonderful she looked because she immediately took to flirting and smiling at anyone who would look at her. Just like her mom. *snort*

If you ever wanted to know just how cute buttons could get drop me a line and I'll send you a picture of her. }:D (The answer is "very.")

Then we adjorned to my parent's new house in Anaheim. There was catering and lots of people directly, indirectly, tenously and not the least bit related to Alexa's father. There were almost no relatives of ours there. It was sorta too bad but I soon found out why. My dad had skipped the ceremony, and I wasn't sure why. I had assumed he just couldn't face being in church with his unmarried daughter getting her baby baptized alongside the father. But then again he and his family were welcomed into his home so... *shrug*

I gave myself the tour of the house. It's deceptively large. At least I think so. It has five bedrooms and three bathrooms, which to me is yoooge. Plus it clearly separates two rooms from a TV room and an entertaining/living room. How bourgeois.

I was in the TV/sitting room when my dad stepped up behind me and sort of squeezed my shoulders. I looked around but he kept being on the other side where I couldn't see him. I whirled around and grabbed his hand so he couldn't get away and playfully asked why he was hiding behind me. He put an arm around me and said "My brother Frank died this morning." I moved in and hugged him and said "Well hello to you, too."

Most of the rest of the day I was surrounded by people I didn't know. Few of them tried to introduce themselves to me, though many pointed straight at me to explain to each other that I'm Miss Thing's older sister. The one that lives in Los Angeles. They didn't always know my name and never bothered to ask. I was poised to introduce myself, but they always moved on before I could. Kinda rude if you ask me.

After food (an interesting mix of soul, Brazilian and Mexican) I felt bogged down by the heat and generally having no one to socialize with so I lay down one of the couches and fell into a fitful sleep. I couldn't get far between the heat and the loud people that plopped down next to me to remark on the sleeping sister. *sigh*

So when I had enough I bid everyone adieu and *then* my mother realized she hadn't given me a tour of the house. Irritably I told her I had wandered around by myself and didn't care to stay any longer.

On Monday 7/21 there were very strange communication issues. Molasses' work had phone issues so I couldn't call him and I don't think he could call out. I had a message from Jester asking me to call him, so I did and got his voicemail. A few hours later he called me back but had to hang up after five minutes. He promised to call me back in twenty minutes and it took him till Wednesday to actually call me so we could talk.

Then that afternoon the Brit called me on behalf of Janet. I eventually talked to Janet. then to the Brit. Then Janet again. They made so little sense between them that I actually ended up driving down to San Pedro to pick up the Brit (who was sporting some brand-new and awfully tight white vinyl pants), swung up to the West side to pick up some tickets and then to Hollywood House of Blues to watch the set of what I think was Waiting for the Ghost (I kept screwing up their name and calling them, among other things, "Ghost of the Dog" and "Waiting for Godot,"). Freudian slips aside the salient point about the band is that the front man was JAmes Marstan (sp?) who was apparently on Buffy.

I utterly befuddled the Brit repeatedly when I let him know that not only did I a) not own a cell phone, I b)don't watch cable TV because I c) don't own a TV and d) was never much interested in Buffy. I think he was ready to declare that I must clearly live in a cave except that I was his ride to the concert and also we had rather rousing conversations about politics, the dynamics of social evolution, the religious bases for modern institutions such as marriage, child rearing, education and the ethics of business. Personally I would have loved to skip the concert and the crazy driving around and just hung out at a coffee shop and had that conversation and just kept talking....

But the night ended when I dropped him off back at the West side apartment where he picked up the tickets (one of the couples he was originally to go with had begged off because one of the party had recently broken her leg). I got home around a quarter after one am.

I wonder if the heat makes it so I don't need to sleep as much. If I have a lot of time at night to sleep I have a bitch of a time falling asleep. I have slightly natural tendancies toward insomnia. This is especially bad when I don't get tired out during the day. At night my mind keeps running full speed ahead. When I was kid this was terrible during summer. I played some, read my books some, and watched a heck of a lot of TV. So by bedtime my brain was still waiting to get tired.... This may or may not have trained me. It's a little tough to say.

But for right now I seem to do fine with just four hours of sleep and have few issues with nodding off at work, which is normally a problem when I get any less than six hours, and occasionally even when I get more.

Anyway... typing of sleep. I need to get going. G'night!