Just got back from the first Serenity/Firefly game night. This is going to be a ridiculous amount of fun, kiddies. I can tell that the system is going to uber easy to grasp. Hell, any system that makes generous use of the poor, maligned 12 sider is one that I can embrace. And the setting — well, how can you go wrong with Firefly?

At any rate, it will be three girls – the Diva, the Tam and myself. Pablo is to run. If tonight’s session is to be any indicator, we are going to be getting into massive amounts of mischief. And hopefully (in game) making a tidy profit. I love the fact that the ship I will be piloting is an “Artemis” class transport.

~~~mini rant~~~
husband = at school still
boy = at work

Mismatched schedules sucks
Day shift sucks
Getting time with The Girl= really, really good
Getting NO time with either boy = *growl*
House being more organized = pretty good
Adjusting to the day shift? Not happening.
Did I mention the general crappiness that is getting up at 6 AM?
Or the fact that I cannot really fall asleep before 1 AM?

*huuuuuuuuuge yawn* Its been a hella long day and I’m pooped. I’m off to go snuggle with my dozens of blankies and kittens.

Color me marshmallow.
The Girl quivered her lip at me on the way home and I totally caved and got Sonic in return for promises of doing her homework without whining.

*sigh* She whined. Enough to make my scalp tighten up like a salted slug. It took her 3 hours (3 HOURS…H O U R S!!!) to complete 3 relatively easy pages of homework. The first 2 and a half were on the first page alone. She wandered off, she stared at her pencil, and oh yeah – she *whined*.

The Grandmother’s Curse is taking effect. I wonder what sort of rituals and/or sacrifices to tentacled beings would appease it? I just had this mental image me bowing before a a huge Cthullhu-like creature, with boxes of cherry cordials in my hands whilst it whined in a nasty, NY accent “And I hope she turns out Just. Like. YOU!”

*shudder*

The Dodge was old, dented and badly in need of a couple swipes with some Bondo. Still, it looked loved. Its driver and presumably owner, looked like he had been in the sun all day. I could almost smell the sweat and livestock on him, even from the confines of my own car. Stalks of wispy gray-blonde hair fell about his shoulders from underneath a stained gray felt hat. It might have been his nice, going-out hat at one point but now it was just a convenient way to block the sun. I watched him take it off and scrub the sweat from the back of his bald patch with a handkerchief and plop it back on.
As I pulled up next to him at the light, I could hear something by the Grateful Dead blaring out of his speakers. I think it was “Scarlet Begonias” but I’m not a huge fan so I couldn’t say for sure.