my heart is a glorious machine;

Well, I'm home again, the house is disgustingly cold (the floor is cold; I can feel it underneath my stockings), and I'm feeling restless and in need of a shower. Guitar lesson is tomorrow, which is a cheery prospect, as I finally have some new material to show off (I've just about finished polishing my musical rendition of John Donne's 'Song (Go and Catch a Falling Star)'--y'know, the poem that every fantasy author in history has attached to a book someplace, it seems? Anyway, it's very shiny, and I wish I could record it for you lot, but there isn't any chance of that, alas.)

Saturday morning was spent Exacting Revenge, which was delightfully entertaining. Hannah M had had a sleepover with several friends, and during the night, the girls painted poor Eli's fingernails. Sarah and Eli and I banded together for the sake of avenging his dignity, and kidnapped their American Girl's dolls, tied them up, and hid them in places like the pantry and closets and places. I haven't done something so childish in ages, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. (It was all good-natured fun, of course.)

And yes, Monty Python was seen and enjoyed by all. I ♥ the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things. Unfortunately, I missed Austin City Limits, when for the first time in months someone was playing whom a) I actually knew, and b) I wanted to see--Sufjan Stevens, who I suspect could do a really excellent live show, considering that he plays, oh, every instrument KNOWN TO MANKIND. (He and Seamus Egan should get together. It would be the Best Show Ever. Seriously. They could duel on banjo, and maybe someone could drag in Bela Fleck for the fun of it. I would pay a lot to see that.) Grrr. Maybe they'll replay it sometime.

So, I'm home again, and so is the rest of the family, having had, it appears, Great Fun, although I feel rather as though I have wasted my Four Hours Alone. (I tried to write and failed utterly. I keep trying, and then the words get stuck and I can't manage to think of what to say next. I have tried about three times to write this one little vignette of a fic that really, really wants to be written, and also contains NO ROMANCE, FINALLY, but it's not coming out no matter now many times I try to sketch it out. Perhaps the bathtub and I should have another session.) The only decently productive thing that I got out of it was AN ICON POST. Yes, really. I know, I have the least-updated icon journal in the history of LiveJournal, which is probably why almost no-one pays attention to it. But these are really pretty photography icons. Yes, precious.


Also, that Remus/Tonks mix I may have been angsting about recently? Is starting to come together. *aghast* But I still need "Different Stars", drat it!

So, my parents are my heroes right now for Pure, Unadulturated Geekiness. Mum told me this ages ago, but I'd forgotten: Mum and Dad used to have a cat named Misty. She was my other mother for the first year or two of my life; she used to bother Mum when I cried, and she slept in my crib sometimes. Unfortunately, she was hit by a car when I was two. But anyway--Misty was only her nickname. Her full name was Mrs. Mistofolees. Mum and Dad figured that the reason why Mr. Mistofolees of T.S. Eliot's delightful Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats was such a marvel was because "he" pulled nine kittens out of a hat, thus proving that "he" was actually a she in disguise, hence the cat's name.

But when Mum recounted this to me again recently, her response to my giddy geekish rapture was: "Oh, well, the Sweeneys (friends of parents) named their cat Macavity."

Here my mind went, with a bit of a leap, SWEENEY? I'd almost completely forgotten about them, although they visited us in Massachusetts, and that was long before I was interested in any Eliot other than Practical Cats, so I never made the connection. Now, I have no idea if Mr. Sweeney has ever been Erect, or Among the Nightengales, or if the man in the Spanish cape has ever tried to sit on his knees, but I am already longing to meet him again and ask him these questions, because if he understands them, he will be my hero forever.