I didn't realize that the Sierra Nevada Bigfoot beers had an alcohol content of about 10.5%, meaning that each one of them was worth approximately 2 normal beers, or approximately 3 Bud Lights, if you ever drink Bud Light, which I would not recommend that you do. It's acceptable until some time in your early twenties, before which drinking things like Pabst Blue Ribbon, Milwaukee's Best, and Natural Light is par for the course. But it's important to develop a certain sensitivity to the brand names of beer at some point, because they really do make a difference, and, as I have discovered, it also isn't a bad idea to investigate which beers have what appears, on label and in reality, twice the alcohol content of the beers that you are used to consuming.

And it is good to be home while you are doing all this discovering, so that you don't have to travel anywhere, which is no good whether you're a driver or a passenger, but is a particularly bad idea when you're a driver.

I hope this message has been of use to you, beer travelers. It will probably self-destruct tomorrow, unless I decide that I really have been doing a Good Thing by spreading the word, which is unlikely, particularly because when sober, I think I will probably recognize that my sentences are horribly long and strung together with seemingly endless series of commas, which is not always awful, but probably will seem so when the light comes up again. Don't let the bastards fool ya, whoever those bastards may be for you, and even if you don't yet know that they exist.

We got almost all our stuff moved into the garage of the new place yesterday, and the process went about as well as such things can go. I sustained only minor injuries: a few bruises and a nasty cut on my wrist.

Today was worse. It was all about finishing up the "last few things" that we left there (and it's always more than you thought) and cleaning. 8 hours of finishing up and cleaning. Ugh. Days on end of lifting and scrubbing... extended periods of manual labor and I don't do very well together.

S and I did take the dogs on a long romp today before the cleaning fest began. I was wearing a tank top and managed to get my shoulders pretty badly sunburned. I realized tonight that, from the collarbones down my arms, my skin now has four distinct colors: white, then red, and then a very slightly tanned area around my biceps. My forearms are considerably darker. I am taking the farmer tan to whole new dimensions here, and something must be done about it.

We also met the weirdest duck I've ever seen while we were walking. It walked right up to all four of our dogs and stuck its beak in their noses like it was trying to make friends. My dogs, being bird dogs—and with just enough training to get "sit" and "down" when they aren't distracted, but not enough to get "no" around squirrels or anything that flies—can be very difficult to control around ducks. I was worried they would hurt or kill this strange, exciting bird. I attempted to drag them away, but the duck wouldn't stop following us. We kept looking back, and there it still was, waddling along. This went on for about 300 feet, which is a long way for a duck to waddle. We thought maybe it would be easier if it just pinned a suicide note to itself and walked into the street. Really, it was like one of those movies where someone keeps checking the rearview mirror and discovering that someone is still in pursuit of them. I wish we had been able to film it and put it to a soundtrack.

I'm exhausted, but I refuse to go to bed before 2, because going to bed early hasn't been working out for me. I keep waking up insanely early after a terrible night's sleep. Plus, I feel much more comfortable monopolizing my friend's phone line and computer when she's asleep.

We hear that we should close on the new house some time this week, so we might be in and settled by next weekend. If anything goes wrong with the deal at this point, I might start thinking that our little duck friend had the right idea. That's not actually true, but it's not far off.

I'm back from my fabulous trip to Vegas, where I got to meet beatnikside, bohunk, and doctorgogol, three of my very favorite LiveJournalers. I wasn't surprised to learn that I like them in person every bit as much as I like them online. I was there from Thursday to Sunday, and here's the day-by-day lowdown.

Thursday, I arrived at the airport to discover that my flight had been canceled. I only call to check on such things beforehand about half the time, and of course I didn't this time. Ah, well—the delay until I could catch another flight was about two hours, just enough time to stand in lines for two different airlines and sneak outside for cigarettes. When I finally arrived, I was whisked away for drinks, much to my delight. After checking into my hotel and grabbing a bite to eat, we all went to beatnik's Mad Pad to chat and learn how people react when someone says, "Look at meee! I'm a flying pig!" in a crowded room.

The next day, after a delightful lunch, we all met up at a vinoteca to dine, drink wine, and listen to music. I had the eggplant, which was delish, but I wish I had ordered the risotto. A perfect risotto is a sublime thing, but I'll just have to keep that in mind next time I eat there. Afterward, we migrated to the Hookah Lounge, where I kept thinking of myself as a hookah-smoking caterpillar.

Saturday was picnic day up at a meadow in the mountains, where the air was much cooler and the beer tasted just right. I contently munched on cheese and crackers while enjoying the conversation and thinking that the field would have been perfect for kickball. I didn't suggest it, because my other friends always laugh and make "slow and bouncy" jokes whenever I bring up the subject, and anyway, we had no ball. I suspect I might be only "about thirty" person I know who still harbors such a love for that game. As it was, the relief from the heat was welcome, the scenery was gorgeous, and I was surrounded by people I adore. Later, I even got to see the laboratory of the good doctor—who, incidentally, dresses exclusively in white lab coats—and his lovely wife, who became my partner in Gradual Lung Destruction.

The evening brought a trip to the palatial estate of a man who is funny by nature and owns the best couch I have ever seen. If I tried, I might be able to fit everyone I know on that sofa. The doctor went mobile with his talents, mixing potions (add two olives, and it comes alive!) at his Lounge Away from Home, and I met a whole bevy of very cool people. One of them now has me wanting to make myself a dress out of duct tape.

On my final day in Vegas, bohunk was safely back at home, but I met up with beatnik and the good doctor for lunch, and then went shopping for used books and for souvenirs. I found a wonderful book dedicated to the Little Black Dress, some Dryden I'd been trying to track down for a couple of years, a fistful of great cards, and a lunchbox with drawings of the "World's Strangest Freaks" that would have been perfect for a friend, but which I just can't bear to give up to her.

My flight home went considerably better than the flight out, and I arrived back at the new homestead to find a husband and dogs who were very gladdened by my return and who know just how to make a tired woman feel rested and glad to be home. I am so happy I was able to meet the faces behind this fabulous cross-section of my LJ friends list, and I hope to repeat the experience some time soon. In the meantime, maybe I can get some of you fine folks out to the OC to do LA and marvel at the Very Orange Tile that adorns a fair portion of a couple of our new walls.

The kitty has gone AWOL, and I miss him. Apparently, he got out while I was in Vegas, and it's now been almost four days since he's been home. He's normally mostly an indoor kitty who makes occasional forays outside, but he's never been gone for more than a full day at a time. I think he must have either gotten lost, hurt, or taken in by someone else. Jeff's been calling the humane society from work, but short of going down there periodically to see if he's been picked up, I'm not sure what to do. I keep going outside, shaking his food bowl, and calling him, but I've had no luck. Maybe I'll make some signs and post them just in case someone thought he was a stray. He was wearing a collar, but it was one of those break-away collars that comes off easily if it gets caught on anything, so it could very well have fallen off.

I feel like an awful kitty momma, and I want my little Leo back.

I'd like to take a brief moment to welcome the kitty back to our family fold. After being gone for almost a week, he showed up outside the sliding glass door by our bedroom with a "meow," and he seems to have fared well during his absence. He's slightly thinner, but I think he found food somewhere, and he doesn't have a single scratch. The house feels much more like home with him here.

We finally got phone service hooked up after staging a minor production of "Waiting for PacBell." They gave us a four-hour window to wait on Thursday, but they never showed up, and then we had to wait from 8 to 5 on Friday. Things I did while waiting included:

- hand-washed a bunch of clothes because I really hate going to laundromats
- organized both medicine cabinets
- added "PacBell" to my Official Shit List
- decided to give the keyboard a thorough cleaning, realized that I had no idea what I was doing when keys started to fall off it; spent an hour and a half trying to get everything back in the right place and working again; swore off any future "taking things apart" shenanigans
- cleaned both bathrooms and the kitchen
- thought about stuff I'd like to buy
- painted my nails, knowing that the polish would just get chipped as I continued to unpack
- stared at some of the plants that came with the house; realized that I could fit everything I know about gardening on a 3x5 index card; considered taking pictures and posting them to get help identifying them; wondered where my camera was
- wished I had some beer
- started organizing closets; kept abandoning organization as I found fun, interesting things in the boxes I had packed
- talked to the dogs

Our friend S. is coming over tonight, so I need to hop in the shower and get ready. It's good to be back online and on my way to settled, though. Things might actually be relatively normal soon. It feels nice.