Not Bad.

I just got back from the SF DW Open Beta meet-up.

You guys! I made it there and I didn't back out at the last minute even though there were strangers there. And I met a table full of fans of all stripes (a couple of whom I've been lurking around/fangirling just a little on), and I had one beer too many and an absolute blast.

I'm going to expand my circle like crazy tomorrow. Right this minute, though, I have to go faceplant, since I've been up for 22 hours (work at 4 a.m., volunteer at 3 p.m., meet-up at 7:30 p.m., and it's after midnight now).

I haven't even seen Show yet! (It's on my hard drive, though.)

Oh. Oh oh oh. Oh.

You guys!

*flails*

I just. I was spoiled for this one, and I was pretty sure I was going to hate it.

But then I didn't. Except for the parts that I did. Which weren't the parts I was expecting, at all.

( Massive spoilers, ahoy! )

So, hey. Did anybody else want to thunk Dean on the head in that last scene? Dude, duh. I mean, we've know that since Season One. Sheesh.

Crossposted to DW (ETA: And now imported to DW, too!)

Being back at work is Kicking. My. Ass.  Exhaustion from the (now) unaccustomed physical labor, exacerbated by the inevitable sleep deprivation that comes from switching sleep schedules, has had me brain dead and zombie-fied in my off hours.

On the other hand, I've already lost six of the thirteen pounds I put on being sick and sedentary.  

And my hair's coming back in!  It's almost a half an inch long, now.   I keep catching my kid looking at me funny, though.  "What?"  "It's not red."  I've been artificially auburn for so much of her life that the real mousy brown stuff growing in seems weird to her.  (Conventional wisdom says don't chemically process it until it hits an inch in order to give the follicles time to get strong again.  I've got the L'Oreal ready and waiting.)


(Also, I'm apparently in love with parentheses today.)