Mark and I both know Wyndnwyre's harpist, Therese Honey, through the SCA, but I learned today that Mark also knew her when she was a student at Houston's High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. That was two years after its inception. Small world!
We had fish and chips for lunch, and we were seated right next to the stage--unbelievably good seating. The place was packed and, thanks to Houston's no-smoking ordinance--smoke-free. Hurray! It's so nice to be able to listen to good music and drink beer in a bar where you can actually breathe!
I have to say, though, all I had was the black-and-tan and a pint of cider, and I'm still a bit buzzed--more than five hours later. What was in that stuff?!
Got to go back to work tomorrow. *whine*
Dreams: I have been dreaming for the past two nights about being in the hospital and having IV's inserted into my arms. It's really weird.
Writing: I began working on a story that I'm calling 'Iscala Keep' until I can think of a better name for it.It's a fantasy piece with an amusing scene of a mage in the waiting room at the local magistrate's office. He doesn't want to be obtrusive, so he's in there wearing very plain robes, mending a shirt.
What's amusing is that all of the mothers of marriageable daughters are eyeing him and whispering to each other. They figure he's got to be a bachelor, if he's doing his own mending, so they're all trying to strike up conversations with him--or contrive ways to introduce their daughters to him.
Poor man. He'd have brought a book, but books are expensive and certianly not the sort of thing one takes to read while waiting for the magistrate.
I'm babbling. sorry.