October 24, 1999.

The best part about being in a good relationship is waking up every day. I'm serious. I realized this morning that there's nothing better than hearing the alarm, waking up , feeling horrible & cranky & tired & sore...and then realizing that you're not alone as you usually are, and that you can snuggle until you feel better about being awake.

People look at me & think I'm a teenager. When I was 18, they thought I was 14. I go into a junior high to volunteer, and the kids think I'm a student while the teachers think I'm doing co-op from highschool. It kind of annoys me. I mean, I've lived a bit. I have multiple irresponsible drinking stories, spanning half a decade...and this is only counting when I became legal. Next month I'll get my B.A.Hon. in a medieval oath of fealty to the university. My boyfriend's younger sister is bugging me to get married.

So why does the mere fact that I have a driver's license stun so many people?

These things come to the fore of my mind tonight, since I look especially young. Ragged bellbottoms, loose black t-shirt, short & artificially blonde hair sticking straight up due to an obvious overuse of styling products, a winnie the pooh watch, glitter everywhere...I look like I'm trying to regain my youth. Too bad I never misplaced it in the eyes of the public.

"...if she gets home, for God's sake, don't sleep with her."

- a punchline from last night's clan gathering, delivered by an old guy in a kilt

Interesting couple of days. I thought I'd be able to get on a computer last night, but I ended up unexpectedly bivouacking at Froghopper Nook, so any entry plans were summarily quashed. It was a lovely night, though. The Boy's great-grandmother - Grace Campbell, a novelist of some popularity about half a century ago - was inducted into the Clan Campbell Society's Campbell Hall of Fame last night, and the family was invited to witness the clan gathering.

Black tie, very chi chi. I felt quite self-conscious wearing an LBD¹, garish varsity jacket & toting a Curious George lunchbox as a purse...then again, you can only dress me up so far. Q wore his nuptial kilt, as there are few more appropriate occasions for such attire. Pixie wore something long & soft. The Boy was in stripes. As glam as we get, and pretty nice looking.

The reception was at the Royal Canadian Military Institute (you know...the place with the cannons). Spears & war books lined the library walls. We ate under the foreboding three-armed Duke of Wellington (which was the style at the time). I didn't have a single uncomfortable moment, which is rare during a public event. Even the Boy's uncle was nice to us (he hasn't been in the past). It was...lovely. Charming. In a way that functions seldom are. I was extraordinarily proud to be invited to such a night, and to be included in another family picture.

(stage whispered during the shoot)
scout: now you're in two...
me: shut up, scout.

¹ LBD = little black dress. keep up with me, people.

Guess what? I'm "fucking adorable." I love intense, harshly critical reviews, don't you?

The inter-period hawg buffing is also going well. I had no idea that games happen in real time, that 2 weeks in life is 2 weeks in game. Means I can't spend hours scheming...then again, I was never much good at that anyway. Impulse is my forte.