Just enough to do without having too much to do.

Mostly I've been writing for the game project. I recently got kudos from the director for keeping the whole thing afloat. The fans seem to be happy too. Let's see what their reaction is after they get through three novels' worth of material from my ass. I zipped past word 100,000 awhile back. Some might argue that I could have applied my talent more productively and published some short stories. I might argue that I always wanted to make a game and that I don't care for doing narrative much. Plot and dialogue are good enough for me. On that count, I'm nearly done with a detailed outline so that everyone knows what we're doing. I've already written sections of the main plot here and there, but I thought drawing an outline and then coloring in would make more sense than doing both of those at the same time.

The house has largely become the house again. It has a much more tropical decor and these cool touch lamps that dimmer-switch light up when you tap them. But inevitably I've been playing mediator for Gran and Mom. Mom objects to Gran trying to horn in on her taking care of necessary tasks and not getting paid on-time by Gran. You see, Mom moved back in with Gran when Gran needed to get a histerectomy due to cancer. Gran's fine now, but Mom is still taking care of meals and some yard work and other related business--basically what she did with Scott, though she also helped manage his assets (given that he'd sleep for 3 days at a time sometimes).

Gran, meanwhile, occasionally gets frustrated because my Mom can be extremely stubborn about certain things--the whole money thing and Gran's inclination to hover around and metaphorically poke at you being two.

It's gotten slightly old, given that I know this pattern well, but I don't mind it terribly. It only gets especially bad when I have to listen to one of my mother's diatribes on the subject. I know it's a diatribe because she seems to speak to Gran (or whomever has pissed her off) in the "you" present and goes on and on and on and on. When I attempt to offer reasonable explanations or reason in general, there's usually a counter-point that may or may not make sense.

I try, but I don't bend myself backwards to help alleviate the occasional martyr complex attack. Then again perhaps Gran really is as chimeric and unpredictable as Scott was in terms of money and consistency of paying Mom, among other things. There's also Gran's proclivity to randomly start conversations when you're busy, or to object in that tangential way when you move from typing on the couch to typing on your bed. Earlier today was a pain in the ass that way, where Mom is off at her Keys of Enoch meeting. I'd be trying to write while the TV is on and I randomly get talked at about things like tobacco not being the only addictive substance in cigarettes.

I am not used to being engaged in conversation unless I'm in the mood. Well, Brian sometimes does it, but he's pretty good at reading when I don't have the time/don't have the interest. Gran kinda just plows forward and I try to conversate as if picking up a wet noodle were a 40 pound weight.

All I know is that such things dampen my vacation some, but then life always has some thimble of drama to it. We'd otherwise just be drinking peach schnapps and watching golf while casually fondling each other otherwise and talking about stock quotes. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I do certainly have a bevy of options in terms of doing stuff away from the house, but it's hard to find a really appealing option. I could re-contact Scott K. and probably get really fucking high and shoot the shit about the old days; but I'd rather leave old high school friends back in high school. There's driving to Topanga Canyon to go hiking; but it's late enough in the day that I wouldn't get much from it. There's going out to 3rd Street; but 3rd Street by myself isn't all that much fun. There's seeing Lisa; but I have no idea what she and her sis are up to, though I'm thinking some combo of this option and the latter might be feasible. There's...ah...driving around like I used to do photography; but I haven't had the motivation, which seems to have been soaked up by writing like so much foccacia bread.

Hell, I'm just glad to not have anything to do in particular.

I'm supposed to drag Daniel/The Captain and possibly Acacia to a movie. Eragon maybe, considering nothing else is much appealing. I'm not sure when they're free again before the wedding (29th), but they're bound to be sometimes. Of course Daniel is held in the cluthces of Final Fantasy 12, so I'll be lucky to see 'em outside of the rehearsal on the 27th (?) and at the wedding.

Oh, and I may possibly be in the works with Sarah to make for a visit type thing while I'm in California. No no, not 'Cold War'. I'm not sure whether or not it'll work out, but it would be nice to see someone from the Idaho crew. Kinda would be nice to see the guys over in the Florence crew, but I'm poor and, yes, poor. I guess I'll have to wait to tease Jack in person and be an insolent tourist. There is some definite appeal in it, though.

Hill's b-day must have come and went with no ta-da's. I'd wanted to get something besides a print, but she thought it best not to; makes sense. I should send her an e-mail. I should send lots of people e-mail.

Being three feet from your pillow at times like this is a carmelized temptation. But I've been sucking on something sweet enough long enough, so I'll just get back to reading GQ or the American Conservative or Salon or some other mental nonsense.

I hope you're having a grand holiday season if it's applicable. If not, have some baklavah.

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