Vague sort of mostly-quoteless-cause-I'm-lazy-that-way-meara:
I'm all bummed now that Raquel was living in the East Bay for a while and I never knew her. So far I've missed out on early Raquel, -t, tommyrot, P-C, and possibly Lori, and only met Kat a week or so before she moved south. Stoopid lack of time-travel capacity.
I *love* humidity.
Humidity is fine by me. Dry heat, too. Pretty much, heat. The happiest summer I ever spent was the summer after college graduation, when I stayed on campus (Hudson Valley) as a student intern at New York Stage & Film. Hot, hot, hot, a little damp (not brutal Deep South humidity, just enough to keep the hair curly and the nasal passages from turning into hot sandpaper), nearly endless daylight, fireflies at dusk, and warm enough to walk down to the town's only 24-hour diner at 2 a.m. wearing shorts and a tank top in perfect comfort. If San Francisco could only have just exactly those summer nights, it would be the most perfect city in the universe.
Also, pfoo, Nora, on the W/D error, but yay on fixing it, and you and Tom should know that I still swoon with envy and wonder every time I think of your new house. That virtual tour you posted a link to oh so long ago was just stunningly gorgeous, and it'll be even better when everything in it is yours.
Also, juliana is just ridiculously pretty.
As Jen noted, Fay having a date didn't seem to warrant much comment because it seems so natural and obvious and exactly the way the world should work. Or, as Emmett would phrase it: Fay has a date? Well, duh.
And Kara and Aiden need to stop rappelling up the major appliances before they completely wreck their poor mom.
ION, I am blotchy and cranky. Something yesterday, the big green baseball fields or the sunscreen or something, kicked my allergies into hyperdrive, and my eyes are puffy and goopy and scritchy and I was mostly airless for much of last night. Compared to the physical ailments of many of my friends on and offline it's pretty minor, but oh so irksome. Also, the skin around my eyes is all raw and irritated from 18 hours of salt water leakage, and (whitefonted for grossitude) when I got up I had to blindly feel my way to the bathroom and rinse them open as they were pasted shut. Bleah.
eta: IOtherON, at Howl's Moving Castle yesterday I picked up a very lovely free slightly-larger-than-mini-poster for Mad Hot Ballroom, mostly 'cause I remembered a couple of other Buffistas had already seen it and loved it. If anyone would like it, ping me (I suck at mailing, so it may not get to you anytime soon, but it will eventually, I swear).