The Feast of Lupercalia
Ah, Lupercalia - that ancient Roman holiday involving bloody naked boys whipping women with goat hides. The Romans really knew how to party. This is more my holiday than Valentine's Day. Some of the Romans believed that Lupercalia was the day wolves chose their mates. I have fond memories of sitting in the middle of Bob's Java Hut with Anne, Liz, & Anne's super-hot Bob's employee, talking about the holiday & howling at the moon.
And now I have something else to associate with February 15th - the Daytona 500. I'm starting to get the hang of this NASCAR thing, a little (though nobody warned me that the Shrubbery was going to be involved!). No longer do they just seem to be driving around in circles (though, I mean, obviously, they are). Sometimes they're passing each other. Sometimes they're trying to pass each other & failing, because sometimes they're weaving around the track blocking each other. I get that now. I had a great time watching the race, which had a lot to do with the company - PF & the posse + her parents & brother, who are a riot. It's almost impossible not to have fun with a group of people who find gay subtext in NASCAR commentating.
eal had suggested that, if I needed 'my own' driver to root for, Mike Waltrip was a good choice, because he's Jr.'s teammate. So, cool. I can root for the guy with the crazy hair. Of course I was rooting for Jr., too, because he's PF's NASCAR boyfriend. And he won! There was much rejoicing, I can tell you that. But what happens to Mikey? Caught in the enormous, 12-car crash that happened in the 71st lap, his car flipped multiple times & landed off the track, upside-down. He was stuck for about 10 minutes while the rescue crews tried to get him out. Eventually (after a lot of screamed obscenities from him) they just flipped the car over. Now I don't know whether to keep rooting for him because he had a really spectacular crash, or to stop rooting for him because clearly, I'm a jinx.
After the race, I left PF's for dinner with LauraZ, the former roommate (ah, the glory days in the basement). She was in town for the weekend, & I hadn't seen her in almost a year. We went to Jerusalem's with Liz & fayde, where they all gave me the 3rd degree - & a lot of ribbing besides - about PF, none of whom have met her. Whoops. In spite of Laura being deathly ill & me being jobless, I looked around the table at one point & thought, 'Yeah. We've all got our heads screwed on pretty well.' I was proud of us.
Today was the interview that wasn't, of which, the less said the better, except for this: 3M may be cool, but they are far too big for anyone's good. Especially someone trying to find someone else. On the upside, having to set my alarm for the not-interview meant I was up in time to hear "Talking Volumes" on MPR, which this month was Neil Gaiman talking about & reading from Coraline. Gods, that man is funny - especially when talking about this incredibly creepy thing he's written.
And yet another No Refunds meeting has been cancelled. Yippee!