Kat went out of town to visit her chum Missy. She had fun too.
What did Trista and I do? Well, we gamed (Trista actually GMed Siver Age Sentinels, believe it or not; I tried my hand at the old Deadlands thang, not so great, but, it was a fun couple of hours), we made sweet/sassy love, we watched some eps of *Alias* (Season 1), we went to the raisin ranch (hellofalot of old folks) and saw the Silver Cinema Classics *Dark City* (old Charlton Heston flick), we hung out briefly with Dharia, Darius, Jordan and Matt, we scoured the apartment clean -- three hours of sweeping, organizing, vacuuming, and scrubbing with heavy duty chemicals (Trista's skin is peeling, this morning) -- I wrote, Trista knitted, we jabbered with the folks, saw occasional fireworks (didn't bother to go out and see them), read, did crafty things and had some nice quality time. You know, recounting it probably steals its thunder, but I have absolutely no complaints about this weekend.
This morning, Trista is on an interview for a teaching job. Good luck!
All in all, I don't really want to be back at work. I'd rather be home, continuing the old holiday. Ah well. I'll try to jam through my duties today and get to more fun stuff.
I was up way too late last night -- not due to any sort of insomnia (I wrote three pages by hand before bed, about 1000 words with my cramped handwriting, so I felt terribly accomplished) but because of Rick Hautala. I picked up a few of his older paperbacks at my favorite used book store in SouthEastern Michigan, last year, and have been engrossed in a little terror tale called *Cold Whisper*. Cheesy title. Cheesy cover (it has a friggin hologram, held one way you see a shocked teenaged girl's face, held another, you see a nasty, fork tongued demon critter). Cheesy back copy, which loves to reiterate the story's location (a new Horror novel SET IN MAINE). I think Zebra books (the publisher) was trying to trump Hautala as the next Stephen King, which he's not. A storyteller, for sure, similar genre, but different style. Still, the story is terribly brutal and races along. A real page turner. Kept me up too late. And I loved it.
I'm also slogging through the Ian Fleming novel *From Russia With Love*. Apparently, I'm not a fan of Fleming. I find this novel bad. The cover is gorgeous (so, I didn't completely waste my money), but the writing is atrocious. I'll probably never read Fleming, again, but at least I tried it once.
Well, off to bigger and badder things. Back to work, back to work. All right, massa, I's going. I's going.