a little bit of ever’ting

It was a solstice party (1 pagan in attendance, check), a housefilk (whenever two or more of you are gathered together in the name of the typo, amen), a hootenanny (small children running around and massacring harmonicas and tambourines while Tapioca is cooked), a religious/cultural interpersonal therapy session as we sang the hums of our people (Falling Free, Frobisher Bay among others), an impromptu poly gathering (6 people in attendance openly poly, plus lurkers), a-a-a-and a shameless attempt on my part to get everybody to compliment me on my sheer good sense for buying Otto.  Who is a boy, Katie K confirmed it.  She also arrived with a housemate in tow and La Merveilleuse Tillie‘s fraking awesome rosemary infused vodka/vermouth libation, which despite the no drinking rule I tasted cause I had to.  And I ain’t sad to.  I’m glad to.  Still a taste left, if ScaryClown comes over tomorrow I’ll feed him some.  Stayed away from the beer, but Mike left 3 in the fridge, so at least I haz some to offer guests. Day before yesterday I made biscotti, and then shared them out liberally at the party, sending some home with the LET’S SING SONGS ABOUT DEATH (literally her first words when she unpacked the bass) Peggy  and the ever useful and opinionated Tom. Also dispensed biscotti to Mike, who sang The Weight (ah, the piercing harmonies!) and Tomorrow Wendy,  and to Rozo, who spectated with that sleepy and mischievous smile I’ve gotten so fond of.  The glorious and unabridgedly awesome Cindy added that special soupçon of harmonious madness without which no housefilk can be characterized as ‘good’.  Or is housefilk like sex and pizza?  ah, erm.  Anyway, we sang zombie songs (dead people), Frobisher Bay (freezing to death), Tomorrow Wendy (which has lots of death in it), Dead Flowers (roses on your grave), and really really kept the theme of somgs about death on track more or less by accident.  Paul sang Last Page and Cindy sang Runtime Error, Type Mismatch so Lady Miss B was there toooooo. Although regrettably not in person, possibly because I neglected to invite her?  Duh.

I cleaned my house and wrote a song yesterday, and people came over and we laughed and chatted and sang and played.  Success!  My brother has been feeling meh but not enough to crimp fun (he slept in the guest room, but Eddie the wonderkitty kept him company).

Due to overwhelming popular demand (two facebutt friends), I will be setting words to my new song, which is the third I’ve written in the Game of Thrones universe.  My Needle and I, and Funeral March of Lord Tywin (instrumental) were the first two.  This one is called The Maid of Tarth.  Oh Otto, you are demanding instrument, but I will rise to the challenge.  And now I realize that it’s 4 GoT songs, I forgot about Sam the Slayer.  When I get into a Universe I seriously fracking commit.

Now…. how do I keep my house clean enough so I actually throw housefilks more than twice a year? I mean apart from a chartreuse flamethrower and a tank of oxygen….

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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