Mark Atwood (fallenpegasus) wrote,
Mark Atwood

The weekend

So, the trip. Tieing together the last couple of days of entries.

Friday was a codecomplete deadline at work. There is one particular bug that I keep hammer down and it keeps popping back up, mainly because other people keep having "helpful advice" about it. I beat it down hopefully for the last time.

Then I took off at 3pm, heading south. I hoped to beat most of the traffic, but it was heavy all the way down to I-405/I-5/Southcenter, at which point it got insane. 20mph from there all the way to past Tacoma. What is it, all these people work in Seattle and live in Tacoma?! Things remained heavy, 40mph, to past Olympia. Then it opened up, and I hauled ass (safely) to Portland.

I got to the bar slash comedyclub with a couple of hours to spare, enough time to have dinner and unwind. I really stuck out from the usual crop of patrons, most of which look like, well, the kind of people who have dinner and hang out on Friday nights in a bar. I was joined after a while by Adrienne and David, who I know from Knuth&Knit. (Adrienne is a big fan of Dean.)

When Dean arrived, he was gobsmaked to see me. Surprise! He looked good, having traded his formerly signature red dredlocks for a short haircut. (His reason for the change is he wants people to listen to him, not "the weird hippy").

Dean's act was good. He's even funnier, and has tightened up his act. Most of the family jokes are gone, the humor is wider ranging, and he's really into the geekish jokes that still would be understandable by most average people. He finally busted up one straight faced lady with a joke about Risk.

After the show, a group of 7 (me, Adrienne, David, Dean, another comidian, and 3 local fans) went out clubbing. It was amusing and trashy, but really really loud. Then in the wee dark hours of the morning, the Seattle folk went to our crashsite (a friend of Adrienne's) to sleep.

The next morning, breakfast was served at a pretty neat "yarn and coffee" shop. They had more kinds of fun yarn than I had ever seen in one place before. (Pictures are in the camera.)

About noon, I got back on the road, and a couple of hours later, pulled into Shasta's place in Eugene.

I met and remet other friends of hers, and the rest of the night was an assorted mix of painting down primer, light construction, socialization and food, and watching kids. Then a deep night's sleep, and then again the next day, into the late afternoon.

By the time we all were done, an opening had been made and framed in a wall between the kitchen and the teevee room, and the living room and a bathroom had been primed, painted, and painted again.

The drive back was just a long, highspeed, slog.

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