Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Tuesday, July 18, 2006

    Dancehall Days in the Life

    We interrupt the regularly-scheduled post on:
    A) Rain
    B) Gardening
    C) Rain
    D) Writing

    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.

    First there was Friday, spent in the ever-lovin’ company of Schmoopie, and later Stucco.
    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 New York and I'm a Midwestern girl. O and I got there late, but it was perfect timing. Most of their guests had shown up a couple of hours early, to escape the heat of the city, and to impress this world-renowned bio-chem doc with whom L. works. It was his birthday, and he didn't want any fuss made, but one of the guests brought this gigantic sheet cake, much to L.'s chagrin. She referred to the early birds as 'science groupies.'

    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 Pueblo to see Mr. Clowncar, Ms. Lil’PeeWee and the girlios. I could post for days about that. But that would entail letting the boyos kill each other upstairs, which they seem bent on doing at the moment.

    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.)

    12 people left me a love letter:

    Anonymous Anonymous wrote in a love letter...

    It's Mojito-thirty again. Also, Schmoopie is running amok at present. I blame the Cubs for her amok-running, the lack of Mojito's in my hand, and for this friggin heat. They should change thier colors/uniforms to be mustard and brown...


    4:38 PM, July 18, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    They were grand slams, not triple plays, but I'm hardly one to nit-pick. A triple play is much more rare, and much more beautiful when compared to the mere brute strength of the grand slam. And the unassisted triple play, well, now, that is a sight so elusive few mortals have seen one in person.

    We had a wonderful time with you and those two sweet little boys. But you knew that. Good for the soul to see your smiling faces again. And we're glad you got to see the general area where we're going to build our yurt!

    If it makes you feels better, the Mets hit another grand salami tonight.

    Oops, gotta go - the squirrels are looking at me funny. Again.

    7:56 PM, July 18, 2006  
    Blogger Des_Moines_Girl wrote in a love letter...

    I love the way you tell time! BTW - little girl went to bed at exactly G&T fifteen tonight. Aaaahh!

    9:01 PM, July 18, 2006  
    Anonymous D-Man wrote in a love letter...

    I've got the other kind of exhaustion. The one where I would rather stay under the blankets in the morning.

    4:47 AM, July 19, 2006  
    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    I am a STL Cards fan, from way back, and we can kick both of your "pansy-asses" any day!

    I did run amok on Mon. and Tue. the bed shuffle caused me to think (on my God it's true!) that I really should paint Z.'s room. So I did. It looked girly, so I moved all of A.'s furn. to Z.'s room and Z.'s to A.'s I may be completely, utterly mad, but it looks great. Thanks for the motivation, Nancy :)

    How's D.? Tell him to just say no to dairy ;)

    2:04 PM, July 19, 2006  
    Blogger Bud wrote in a love letter...

    And I'm happy for you. With the exception of the Cubs getting a good old fashioned ass whippin', you had a fabulous few days. I loved hearing about it in your patently colorful style.

    3:48 PM, July 19, 2006  
    Blogger Dantares wrote in a love letter...

    lol. for thou has slain the Jabberwock!
    no one I know seems to know of that poems existance.

    4:16 PM, July 19, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Stucco: Funny how that hour creeps up on you again and again. As for Schmoop; yeah, wow!

    Clowncar: bad. I was distracted by boyos behaving like monkeys on meth, both the first time around in the bar and while I was writing this.
    Darn it, I got so exicted when I saw your link! I though you'd finally caved, I mean, seen the wisdom in blogging. You nut! ;-)
    I think the balls were created by rods. Or squirrels. Or rod-squirrels.

    DMG: That's a GREAT bed-time hour! Good for her! ;-)

    D-Man: That's not exhaustion...;-)

    Schmoop: You are a nut, too! What does Wednesday want for her birthday?

    Bud: Thanks! And thanks! And Thanks! :-)

    Dantares: Dantares, meet Mr. Anthrax DeLaClowncar, Jabberwocky hunter extraordinare!

    4:41 PM, July 19, 2006  
    Blogger Lisa wrote in a love letter...

    Sounds wonderful!! And very like my own kid of exhaustion. :)

    6:18 PM, July 19, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    Wow - lots of Cubs fans ot there. I must admit that two of my favorite groups of people are Cubs fans and Deadheads (and I hate the Dead).

    I chortle in my joy.

    9:21 AM, July 20, 2006  
    Blogger Vulgar Wizard wrote in a love letter...

    Mr. Clowncar? *LMFAO*

    "Good evening, I'm Mr. Clowncar. So good of you to join us. Will you be dining in the hall or on the veranda?"

    Yes, I realize that's not really his name, but if it were, and he said something like this, I would pee my pants.

    1:18 PM, July 22, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    VW: lol! This from the Queen of Nicknames. I pray I never earn your scorn. ;-)

    (And Mr. Clowncar seats 28, but only if they all have round rubber noses.)

    5:18 PM, July 22, 2006  

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