Once upon a time the holiday was Decoration Day, not Memorial Day -- my grandmother still refers to this as 'Decoration Day', in fact. It's a cheerful sounding name, suggesting flowers and streamers. On the other hand, MemDay is a satifying abbreviation, while DecDay makes me think Digital should be involved. It's a toss-up.

I've gotten about twenty hits since Open Pages put me online, and my first honest-to-goodness email message from someone who read my journal and liked it. Now, not to be trendy or anything, but it bugs me that this matters so much. Despite all of my goings-on about how this journal is really for my benefit blah blah blah, I'm thrilled that someone was amused enough by it to send me email. And I'm going to be upset if someone slams it as boring or juvenile. How embarassing to be a normal human being who wants approval from her 'community'.

Maybe I'd be more interesting as a journalist if I was a basket case. (See, despite having had no negative critiques -- no real critiques at all -- I'm already assuming I'm boring.) Then again, being a basket case no longer holds any enchantment for me. I have enough broken friends that brokenness is not a fascinating thing to observe. It's just tiring.

Summary of the last two paragraphs: I'm not perfect. I have needs. Hopefully, eventually, accepting this will be easier.

Grass Valley tonight! The current plan seems to involve hanging out at Czr's until about 21, then piling into my car and driving too much. At the end of the journey, though, there will be a warm fire, and things to drink, and Al&Sheryl to burble excitedly at. Plus Robin, although he ought to be sleeping by midnight. Earl and I have plans to capture the library, which is definitely my favourite part of the house to sleep in. There'll be gaming all weekend; Mage, of course, but also a chance to play some six-hour board game. I'm betting we stay up all night either Saturday or Sunday playing Age of Renaissance. The glories of a 3-day weekend.

It was raining today when I woke up, hard enough that the street was wet and there was the pleasant sound of cars on wet pavement that reminds me of being a kid and sleeping late on rainy weekends. It's nicer now, though, since I got to wake up next to Earl, and (although I had to go to work) I was able to bask in the knowledge that if I really wanted to I could just go back to sleep. The delights of no longer being under eighteen.

Rain in Northern California after April is unusual. I just hope it's not raining all the way up to Grass Valley. It'd make the twisty bit off of 80 a real nightmare. At least Czr will be in the car; he says I can make him share in the driving, which will be a nice change.

Note to self: Journal writing should be done in high-energy periods, preferably with a lot of caffeine. Writing a journal in fits and starts while doing fifteen other things and waiting to go home does not come up with an entry that makes you happy.