Kris and I fight over the covers at night: not necessarily who gets the blankets, but rather who DOESN'T get the blankets.

I like the blankets heavy on top of me. I'll pile a bunch of blankets on the bed: the flannel sheet, Kris' t-shirt quilt, the olive green polyester thingy, and the comforter. Kris likes to remove the t-shirt quilt, fold it in half, and put the whole thing on my side. I don't mind a bit: I like the weight.

Helen and Toss were worried about my being warm last night, so they gave me a couple toasty warm fuzzy blankets, the flannel sheets, and a pile of curtains.

At least, that's what they looked like.

And that's what they felt like. They were nice and heavy.

Complete with tassles.

The things were so heavy, I was unable to lift them completely and throw them across the bed. So, I piled them onto the bed, folded in half, of course, moving a quarter at a time, and tried to get under all of the covers I had piled up.

"Hey! I hear a lot of grunting over there!" Mom called to me, from the other room. Yeah, well, getting under the covers takes effort.

Once under, I didn't move the entire night, unable to turn over with the blankets on top of me. Didn't even wake up at 4 am.

Oh my goodness.

Okay, so my first car, well, the first one I bought, my CRX had a clock and a tape player. Everything, except air bags, that a car needs for comfort.

My next car, the first big purchase Kris and I made together, didn't have a clock. Sure, it had a CD player, the height of fancy, but no clock, not even on the CD player. Quite annoying.

Okay, so, my current car has BOTH a CD player AND a clock. I mean, how great is that? How absolutely wonderful is that?

Except that once you turn on the CD player, you can't stop the CD player. You can turn off the player, but you can't pause the playing of the CD player. With the CD controls, there are skip and seek, but no pause. Who designs a CD player with no pause? When the navigation system is on, the navigation system talks right over the CD player, but the CD player won't stop.

For six months, this has driven me nuts.

Until today.

Turns out, there are two CD formats supported by the player: the standard orange format (a music CD) and the MP3 format (a data disc (green, maybe?) with MP3s on it). If I switch the playing format of the CD from a music CD to an MP3 CD, the disc isn't compatible, and the player stops.

Success!

Finally!

I stayed last night with a high school classmate (okay, okay, fine, ex high school boyfriend) and his family. We have been in touch since he emailed me, seeking contact after he had some dream (some might say, some nightmare) that I was in. We nearly connected for our own mini-reunion a couple times, but other than Jenn, my remaining high school friends remained distant and unknown.

So, when my plans took me to Santa Barbara, with longer distance trip to Orange County to meet up with my mom who was travelling through, I asked Paul if I could visit. I'm not sure if I asked if I could stay with him, or he asked if I wanted to, but the timing worked out really well, and, hey, what do you know, we caught up last night.

After I figured out that Carpenteria is not Camarillo, and 6 is not a 9 in his address.

That, and 3s look a lot like 5s at night, in the wrong font.

Yes, I went to the wrong house not once, but TWICE, trying to find his house. It wasn't until he brought the garbage out to the curb after seeing a suspicious car drive up and down the street six time.

Might have been seven.

Paul and his wife stayed up with me for hours, talking about this and that and the other. Paul commented about being nervous, maybe a tad bit weirded out. I wasn't. It was nice meeting Gena, catching up on life, laughing at the various mishaps and successes. I missed the kids in the evening, arriving too late in the evening to see them.

The next morning, though, whoo!

As I was waking up, I heard the thunder, uh, sorry, the pitter-patter, of little feet. The door opened at one point, and a little head peeked in, popped out, and declared, "She's sleeping!"

Eventually, I did manage to wake up, and wander out to see the three kids. After I was bombarded by the three little ones, Gena asked Paul, "Does she like kids?" It's a question that many people have asked. Just because I don't want them, doesn't mean, well, as Paul answered, "yes, I think so, as long as she can give them back."

The oldest boy (yeah, yeah, I know his name, but I don't know how much Paul wants me to post about his kids, so, until he tells me, the kid is "the oldest boy") read a Leap Frog book to me, demonstrating how to start pages, how to read the pages, how to interact with them. Apparently that was just enough to win him over.

Paul's little girl and I were goofing around together after breakfast as her older brother was getting ready for school. She'd start with running the length of the kitchen, arms outstretched, and launching into my arms. I'd pick her up, spin her around and put her back down. At that point, she'd run back across the kitchen, turn around, and start over. After about 5 or 6 of these runs and swings, I looked up to see Paul and Gena staring at me, a dumbfounded look on both their faces.

Apparently, Paul's girl doesn't really warm up to people, and certainly not in any physical way. Score two for me.

I had no chance with the third child, another boy, though. Too young to win over. Maybe next visit.

I had a great time, and am very glad Paul and Gena let me stay with them.

Now to find a bag of some good Orville Reddenbacher popcorn that isn't microwave popcorn. Sunday nights are popcorn night at their house, a tradition every house should have.

If we had been born 20 years after we had actually been born, this is what our dates would have looked like: each of us behind our computer, chatting via IM.

Okay, today, it's raining.

Unlike the weather we actually had yesterday afternoon, we experienced the weather we were supposed to experience last night. We went to Andy's mother's house for dinner, after a quick stop by the Trader Joe's which was spitting distance from the hotel. Andy's mom lives in Montecito, an expensive suburb of Santa Barbara, on top of a hill. Even with clouds, rain and the wind whipping around, threatening to send very large branches down into the hottub we were sitting in (the hot hot hottub, mind you), the views were spectacular.

Moving our stuff to the car was wet. The way over to breakfast was wet. The walk from breakfast was wet. The way back to Andy's was wet. Fortunately, we were moving slowly, enjoying the day, so wet didn't adversely affect us.

Brynne went up to her Dad's place, the first part of her drive back to the Bay Area. Originally, she was going to take Kris and Heather up, and I was going to continue south to L.A. However, those plans assumed I was in Santa Barbara to coach at an ultimate tournament, which was partially cancelled due to lack of playable field space. So, instead, Brynne went north to her family's house, while Kris and Andy played a little Guitar Hero, I used some local wi-fi, and Heather futzed with her laptop which had died two days before.

Eventually, our CF subsided and we drove up to Brynne's dad's winery to meet up with Brynne. I figured I had some time before heading over to Paul's place, but I hadn't counted on the CF factor when I made that decision. So, the four of us, Andy, Heather, Kris and me, drove up to meet up with Brynne. Whoo, we saw a rainbow. More importantly, I met Brynne's dad. Yay!

The vineyard was, as Brynne said, naked, with no green on the vines or grapes, but still awesome nonetheless. I love farmland, vineyards and orchards. Something about the large space and growing food that makes me happy. Organic version of these are much, much better.

Andy and I drove back to Santa Barbara when Brynne, Heather and Kris went north. Not sure which one of us will arrive in our destination first. Me? I'm off to visit Paul.

I think I should be nervous.

I'm not.