Yesterday was just dandy from start to finish. We woke up on time (always a good start to a weekend morning), and we were able to get ready for church without rushing too much. As we were walking to the car - hand in hand & dressed to the nines, the Boy gripping his Sunday School materials, myself clutching a choir folder and webhosting information for the church website - I suddenly buckled under the weight of my own nerdiness. We were no longer Otto and/or Mrs. Krabapple, we were the Flanders family. Hell, we were almost Mormons.

I suppose the nerdiest part was that it only bothered us for a couple of minutes before we happily settled back into a morning of mostly-conventional Christianity.

This was, though, an undeniably good start to the day. Not partying all night on Saturday takes care of a bunch of different problems I had last year: I don't feel like shit the next day, I don't wonder what I did or what my classmates will think of me, and I have far more money for things like food and rent. Now that we're doing SMILE on Saturday mornings, I see our social life becoming extremely quiet. Maybe there are some 18-year-old volunteers who can accurately assess physical progress in a special needs child as well as maintaining a positive and energetic demeanor after a night of boat races at the Axe; I am out of that developmental stage.

Howsomever, I can afford to be all stoic-like today because yesterday afternoon the Nightshade family came by to take me to Halifax, and I spent the night dancing darkly in my beautiful new corset with my two favourite boys. The family is in Nova Scotia for the internment of Dirk's grandmother, and for the family the trip seems to be a healthy mix of grief at her passing and joy in each other. I've only spent a little bit of time with Dirk's family individually; yesterday I sat close to his mom in the backseat of the van and got the full dose.

I had a hell of a lot of fun too, even though Dirk & I had to commit many acts of reflexive omission (i.e. we remained tactfully silent about the type of event we were attending and how we would attire ourselves to attend). The secret knowledge bulked in the back of my mind to the point that, when Dirk & I made our escape to dinner, I confessed that I felt far naughtier than I have in years - I was feeling like Dirk was going to wear assless pants and I was going to whip him through the streets. (At this point we had had a couple of mixed drinks in the hotel room and everything was hilarious: we nearly collapsed with laughter in the hall.)

We were also lying about the Boy dj'ing at the club that night. The Boy & I had meant to send in a tape and that never happened, but Dirk needed the extra excuse to get into Halifax that night, so the official story became the Boy was putting on a show & Dirk wanted to see him (this almost backfired when his mom got so interested in seeing the Boy "perform" that she & Dirk's dad wanted to come along. The mind reels.)

After the afore-mentioned drinking in the hotel room with Mr. & Mrs. Nightshade, we met up with the long-lost Brigit for dinner & had an excellent couple of hours trading information & sharing a few select memories of Ferg. She's changed in so many ways, but most (if not all) of these changes are for the better. Her manic Brigit energy is still there, but she's become focussed and self-aware to an amazing degree. She always talked a good game when I knew her in U.C. - she always seemed to know what to do and what to think and where to go - but she was erratic & - as she will declare herself - directionless. Her years in Halifax have really refined her personality in the best possible way, and I was delighted to see her again. I don't think we're going to become close buddies in the future; there was still some of the same reserve I felt from her in her last year in Toronto, and when Brigit really likes you there's absolutely no mistaking it. Still, it was a good bridge to build again, and it's good to know that there's at least one person in Nova Scotia other than me & my Boy who understands the phrase "Tea at the Union."

After dinner we went back to the hotel room to change into our goth finery and to grab bits of my stuff that Dirk had retrieved from Toronto (plus the addition of a beautiful United Church Hymnary. "It cost $1.50," he said. "And I'm worth every penny," I replied.) At this point I concentrated on hoping that Mr. & Mrs. Nightshade wouldn't return from dinner before we could make a clean get-away: my parents have to accept that fact that I continue to dress like a depressed Victorian whore, but there's no reason to have that conversation with Dirk's parents. Fortunately we were gothed up in plenty of time, even after we took a few pictures. We were picture-worthy, too. Dirk was distinguished in a beautiful high-collared brocade shirt that I don't recall ever seeing before & his big lace-up boots; The Boy borrowed the PVC pants (at this point they're 'ours' more than 'mine') and the new leather studded belt, and was Hot Industrial Boy; I was as elegant as gothically possible in my new corset ('mine' more than 'ours'), the long PVC skirt that Javina gave me, the forklace, opera-length gloves and stripey stockings. (Not quite assless pants, but you get the picture.) My hair's almost past my shoulders now, so I let it hang down & enjoyed the way the dyed black ends brushed against my bare shoulders. It's been a long long time since my hair was long enough to hang.

Once we were at the club, the Boy began to feel gloomy, and spent most of the night in the corner. But as he kept saying that he was 'fine,' I elected not to push anything, and I just relaxed and had fun. It was way better than last time: the tunes were way better, I was happier to be there, and Dirk & I were really happy. This is our only chance to see each other face-to-face until late December, and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, on & off the dance floor. The cool thing about the Marquee is that they have nice chairs, meaning that you can have a comfortable conversation in the midst of the pounding angst music if you lean close. Even last time when I wasn't feeling very hot, I remember that I could talk to Dirk about serious things if I chose - I wasn't cognitively undermined by the lower back pain that comes from continuous standing in a corset, nor did I have to mentally grapple with a reoccurring ass in my personal space as too-close pool players bent after their shot.

The dancing was quite excellent as well. Last time I complained that all of the dj's played thumpy-thumpy goth-industrial-darkwave, which pounds your brain into an unhappy mush if you're not industrial enough to handle it. Last night they played songs with words and reoccurring choruses. Even if I didn't know the songs, I felt comfortable enough to try them out. And when I did know the songs, I danced so hard that I thought I might pass out. Rune played "Sex Dwarf," of course, but she also played "Closer" & "She's in Parties" & "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" (a song universally hated by my carpool during practicum) & "Peephow," which I haven't heard in ages, and "This Corrosion" which I hear rather too much these days but still enjoy. I even had a chance to dodge hopeful smiles of men dancing in my field of vision! Oh, it was a thing to behold, let me tell you.

My only problem was that the Boy had laced up my corset far tighter than I've ever had it before, and I tired easily. I would leave the floor after three consecutive songs, panting like a dog (which is rather attractive in a corset - pink face, wilting body, heaving breasts, all that sort of thing.) My reward for this discomfort, if such a thing exists, is that a stranger asked to videotape the back of my corset as part of a personal project she was doing on goth. I managed to find out that she was also from Toronto and used to frequent the dreaded Skantuary before she had to break off our conversation and rush away to film the dancing. The whole encounter was rather oddball, but endearing. I'm terribly flattered, even though I know that I was filmed because I happened to walk by at the right moment. Fun nevertheless.

The Mate & I took off around 1 p.m. during "Everyday Is Hallowe'en," as the Boy was fading fast and we still had an hour's drive before we were home in bed. The three of us hugged fiercely on the dance floor and I left before I could begin to cry. December is a long way away. At least I have this night to hug close during my too-early morning classes and my too-long work afternoons.