St. Patrick's Day yesterday; better known as R's 11th birthday. We went up to Bat Cave for the festivities, which were very festive and rather on the loud side. There were hundreds of little girls - okay, just like four or five, but it seemed like hundreds - and my friend D, R's mother was beginning to get a sort of hunted, desperate expression on her face. "I'm thinking about just yelling at them all randomly," she said, "Why wait until they do something wrong?" Our friends A & N had come down from Baltimore accompanied by the two teenagers K & H and the twins, who are 10 and as always hell on wheels. So it was very nice but we ended up not staying all that long. N found a whole bunch of his old CDs, which made him happy, and we came on home.
Then I went to the flickr meetup, which was still going strong even though I was 2 and a half hours late and then when I came home S came over & N & S & A & J and I sat in front of the fire drinking jack & coke and inhaling and it was actually really fun. Now I have a headache of doom of course but I guess it was kind of worth it. Or not. But lacking a time machine (damn, I want a time machine SO bad sometimes) there's nothing I can do and no way to yell at my last night self to skip the last couple of beers or just stick to water like a smart woman. Alas.
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