not yelling at my son; yelling over a sound system at pretty people

Nibs spent much of the weekend with a friend from out of town, so I got to take m'boy to Dr. Kidshrink yesterday and talk to them both. Either my son has grown up, I've grown up, Nibs' absence is good for me, or changing sex has mellowed me out. Those sessions often used to make me want to put my head through a wall, but not this time.

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I went to a rather nice multi-camp Burning Man fundraiser called Outpost last night down in a light industrial area in the south end. Music? Not bad. Eye candy? First rate if it was ambulatory*. Dance floor? Well populated with freaks, i.e. dancing freaks as opposed to people necessarily like you. I hated to leave at 1:00, but I had zappy today down in Tacoma. For the same reason, I was fuzzy of face and didn't make as much of an effort as usual for this sort of thing. Being fuzzy is bound to make me a little uncomfortable one way or another no matter what I wear. But! I'm glad I went.

Mental notes: I could use a fitted lace top.

One of the women selling jello shots was six feet of pretty in flats and a demon seamstress. ♥



*I need a corset to look that good in a leather pencil skirt. I own both, if you'll recall.