Dancehall Days in the Life
to bring you some other stuff.
I am three flavors of exhausted today. But it's a good exhaustion, it's a things-are-happening-and-I'm-getting-a-life-back kind of exhaustion.
We spent the day playing musical beds.
Actually, that entailed disassembling their son’s bunk beds, buying him a new water bed, and then transporting and reassembling the bunks for the boyos at our house. Let us not forget the Incident at Starbucks, in which a Mess was made, and cleaned by two Moms.
Hee. I owe ya.
But the sunset on the way home, now that is worth talking about. It was a Midwestern sunset; big and orange, diffused firelight, turning the mountains purple. Gorgeous.
When we got to my house, I looked at the clock and realized it was half-past Mojitos. That, and I couldn’t fine a dammed Allen wrench to save my pale and worthless hide.
O got home at precisely beer-thirty. He and Stucco took down the old beds and reassembled the bunks, and then Stucco noticed it was quarter to Scotch, but since we are on Irish time in this house, the time difference actually made it ten-past whiskey.
Saturday; a party up in the hills behind Golden; a beautiful place. P. is a grade-school friend of O's and L. and I hit it off immediately when we met several years ago. We're both immigrant wives, though she's from upstate
So the party was split in two; the early part for all the med tech wannabes L. and P. are trying to encourage, and the latter part for friends. P. made me a couple of cranberry-raspberry stoli martinis L.'d invented, and later when the party had dwindled from 50 to eight, four of us raided the humidor. We all sat outside, enjoying the cool breezes, watching for elk and listening for coyotes. L.'s pretty sure there's a mountain lion in the area too.
I had fun listening to everyone. I didn't know anyone, except P. and L., so I kept pretty quiet. I did make everyone laugh at one point, when I elaborated on a business idea P. had run across earlier that day.
The best part though, was staying after everyone had left, and just talking to P. and L. L. broke out the snacks she'd been saving (the REALLY good stuff, she said) and I played around with 400 MG worth of music, finding stuff they didn't even know they had.
Sunday; my favorite drive – down to
We hiked. It was glorious. See?
Then we went to an Irish bar. When we walked in, the Cubs were beating the Mets. I’m a Cubs fan while Mr. Clowncar is a, dare I say, slobbering Mets fan. Swear to god, he’s going to rename his oldest daughter, ‘Pedro’.
So we had a ‘friendly’ rivalry going.
And then Clowncar kicked on his mojo.
And the Mets loaded the bases.
And then there was a triple play.
And another one.
And a buncha other stuff, until the Mets had pulled down the Cubs pants and were spanking them out there in the field like little pansy girls.
Never one to rub one’s face in something, Mr. Clowncar sent me the nicest email Monday morning:
"It marked the first time in club history the Mets had two grand slams in the same inning.
It was also the first time in club history the Cubs had given up two grand slams in the same inning, according to team historian Ed Hartig."
And the Cubs are 105 years old! Oh frabjous day! Calloy! Callay!
To which I could only reply,
(And I am. No, really.)