Vague Suppression

I think I end up laughing to myself when I have to work the night through. I'm proud I made it. But I'm nowhere near done. There's just time enough to curl up in the linens for a few measly hours and get cracking all over again. And not enough time yet for the expanded edition of commentary on all the subjects this weekend shouldered. Among them:

Anya at The Derby...Seedy night carnival on Santa Monica Boulevard..."I have a vomit illness"...The Kitchen...I made hot cocoa with marshmallows in (but not for me)...Early morning machinations...The long sundrenched drive...Engagement party...Two violins playing Bach, Haydn, Mozart, and the theme from The Flintstones...Freckles emerging...Cocktails and oysters on the beach...The long drive home...Dinner at The Whisper Lounge...Quadruple espresso at the Coffee Bean prepared lovingly by James (Mr. Madonna)...Firefly and The Office DVD festival...Quark XPress ad infinitum...Fire in the belly...It felt like Christmas at The Grove.

Think of it as a possible list of coming attractions.

When I told my mom that I had been eating oysters, she said, "Now, you're full of hormones."