In which I eat Mexican food.

Hattie called me for lunch. She picked me up at noon and we went to Los Portales, where I had nachos originales and she had a chicken burrito. We saw The Holy Couple (Mary & Jesus) and discussed Misty’s upcoming birthday.

Friday she’ll be at the bar, and I’ll probably go to that. Then she wants to go to Iowa City on Saturday for sushi at Three Samurai, followed by partying and crashing in a hotel. That also sounds fun but I don’t know if I/we will feel like going for an overnighter.

In other news, I have decided to merge goblinbox.com and my blog into one thing. Sadly, this meant I had to do all kinds of tedious hand-editing of the export (because there was no way in hell I was going to do a database edit) but I did it and here we are.

P.S. I realize that comments aren’t working. I’ll have it fixed shortly.
P.P.S. Comments are fixed now.

In which Brett turns 32.

Yesterday was Brett’s birthday. I totally forgot about it until I went to write a check for dog food at Tractor Supply. I pulled it together pretty fast, though, and had a fantastic pasta dinner (with guests!) all lined up by the time I got home from the store.

But Brett didn’t want to do that, of course. He wanted to go right back to town. Immediately. Screw the dinner party, and screw the people already on their way out. So I put the groceries away and called Hattie & Joe and explained that I was un-inviting them for dinner, blah blah blah, and Brett and I drove back to town.

First we went and picked up Jimbo & Joy and Chuckie, then we drove past some anti-hog confinement benefit so Jim & Joy could drop an Ella-support bag off to Grandma, and then we went to the Red Rock where we commenced to drink.

I spent some quality time gossiping in the bathroom with Misty, Hattie, and Rachel. I got drunk on cosmopolitans. It was a fun time in general.

Jim & Joy

Well, it might have been more fun if I’d had some dinner first, but hey – whatever. It was his birthday.

When we got home a little past midnight, my dad’s RV appeared to be stuck in the mud a hundred feet past our driveway. Figuring he was asleep in there, we didn’t do anything about it.

I made a grilled cheese with mushrooms and tomatoes and shared it with Brett, and then I passed out and slept in my clothes on the couch all night.

When I got up this morning I made potatoes and eggs and toast and cardamom lattes, and drank about a half gallon of water while I was cooking. We had breakfast. Then my dad came in. Then Brett said he wanted to do some logging today, but I think that’s probably not going to happen:

The day after: napping on the couch

As Brett slept, I watched Affluenza on Link TV, which was insightful, thought-provoking… and fucking depressing as hell. (Shows like that cause more stress than they relieve, I’ll tell you that right now.) I am going to check out a couple of the books mentioned in the program, though. And I love the phrase “voluntary simplicity.”

I understand that a bunch of folks are making the trek to Ottumwa tonight to see Steve’s band play. I might be recovered enough to go out by then… and I bet my dad would like to do something. Hmm.

Update Brett went logging after all! And I think he even said something about getting my dad’s rig unstuck, which would be cool if it were true.

In which I observe that parenting seems to involve lots of sitting around chatting, plus snacks.

Last Friday, Brett came home around one in the afternoon and promptly fell asleep on the couch. (All our late night discussions last week had left him with a significant sleep deficit he needed to remedy.) I went to town and spent a lovely afternoon at the park with Reni and Mira, knitting and chatting.

Reni & Liza

I saw and talked with Reni, Liza, Jimmy, and my evil twin Danya (who also knits). I took Shiva with me, and he was a totally well-behaved dog the whole time.

Knitting socks

I ate Doritos and watched kids play on the jungle gym.

All this happened well before Brett and I went out and got totally shitfaced, of course.

In which I party like it’s 1999.

Brett and I went out with Tommy & Rachel Friday night and got totally wasted at the Dead Cock. We closed the bar, even.

Then we were totally useless napped basically all day Saturday, missing Steve’s sushi birthday luncheon in Iowa City like the total dicks we are.

I have no idea why we’re being so juvenile with all the drinking lately, but I do love having a social life! Perhaps we’ll expand it to things like having people over for dinner or country bonfires. You know, social activities with just a little less alcohol.

In other news, Brett and I had A Big Talk earlier this week. We’re getting along much better and the vibe around here isn’t so funereal. While I’m not sure that we’ve actually resolved anything yet, we both got a lot on the table and it’s nice to be talking again. I mean, sitting down and having a bona fide conversation with him is really nice. Plus he totally cracks me up sometimes.

In other other news, I’ve gotten sick of my old drink the Scarlett O’Hara, and am now drinking Cosmopolitans.

In which I both attend satsang AND go out on a Saturday night.

I agreed to sing a few songs with Snow for Navaratri, so I showed up at chez Wadsworth between 1 and 2 on Saturday. Snow and I immediately sat at the piano and absolutely butchered a whole bunch of cheesy 70’s fake book songs – it was great fun. C finally asked us if we had any plans in the direction of actually getting ready for the gig, and we giggled and got down to working up a quick 5-song set for our 25-minute gig. We did three chants from the Seventh Ray album, J’s cover of Amazing Grace, and an old George Harrison tune.

The ‘gig’ was at the ashram at 6:30. When we got there they were chanting the Thousand Names of Mother Divine. When they were done we did our little acoustic set, then there was arati. The prasad was yummy. I felt great, as I always do when I drag my ass to satsang, and I had a really good time. I also think that C might have been secretly tickled to have her man there, since they actually have different gurus and I don’t think he goes to satsang with her.

Between rehearsing and performing I sat in the jeep in front of the Wadsworths’ and read Olympos and smoked a cigarette, and Bread called me to tell me he wanted me to go to Mt. Hamill with him & Truck for chicken, and then to a party out at Bowling Jesus & Wife’s place. I had to explain to him that I’d just finished rehearsing and wasn’t going to perform until 6:30 and was not available. He was completely fucking pissy about the whole thing (as he generally is when I go off to do things I care about but he thinks are stupid), but he called back later in a much better mood to let me know what my NEW plans were: AmmZon was working until 7, and she and I would hook up after my gig and go to Bowling Jesus’s together. He gave me directions, and I called AmmZon and left her a VM about the whole thing. (She didn’t know about it either, apparently.)

After I left the ashram I checked my phone and AmmZon had called, all stressed out because she was supposed to have gotten off work at seven and her replacement wasn’t even there yet. I drove over to the bar and had a cocktail while she fumed and yelled the word “asshole” a lot. She’s adorable when she’s pissed. Eventually the guy showed up, and AmmZOn sat beside me and ate a cheeseburger from Torino’s while I ate some fries, and then we called our men.

She and I were extraordinarily luke warm about the idea of driving all the way to Keosauqua to stand around in a field drinking beer, even if there was a bonfire. Bread and Truck had just arrived at Bowling Jesus’s when we called them at a quarter past eight, and it seemed they had plans that revolved around a fifth of Jagermeister and passing out drunk in the truck like total rednecks.

So AmmZon and I went to her place for awhile and tried to figure out what to do. We decided to blow the whole Keo thing off, called Raybo, and went to the Backroads instead. Raybo and T showed up and we all had a ball drinking cosmopolitans and talking. At midnight we went to Ray’s house and I made scrambled eggs while she made stacks of buttery toast, and after our little snack the four of us sat on the front porch and had a fun time amusing ourselves. (Three of the four of us, it turns out, were long-time bedwetters, so we cracked each other up telling horrible stories about that.) At three in the morning, AmmZon and I finally took our leave.

That Ray & T couple? Way fun and cool.

I dropped AmmZon off at home and drove out to the farm and passed out. Bread was asleep on the couch when I got home, so he must have been pretty drunk himself because he usually goes to bed earlier if he’s not. Sunday I was totally fucking useless – I had the worst hangover you can imagine, complete with aches and a bitch of a headache. All I did was lie around and eat soup.

I’m too old for real drinking, really, but I have to re-learn that simple fact at least once a year. Doh.

In which I have a social life, and friends come over for dinner! Yay!

Last night I sat at my desk until well past five, cleaning up my blog’s CSS. Brett called me and asked if I were still in town and if I wanted to have a cocktail, which I was and did.

He picked me up and we went to the Red Rock. Hattie was bartending and Joe came in, and eventually it was agreed that they’d come out to our place and we’d have dinner together. The men left, I finished my drink and left for the store, and Hattie cashed out her register.

At the store I bought two bratwursts for Brett, dog food, a frozen pasta entree for myself, and a half rack of PBR. When I got home, Hattie was already here.

For dinner, there were cajun brats, marinated new red potatoes, sauerkraut, and Caesar salad. Hattie and I finished off a rather large jug of wine and Brett and Joe drank PBR.

After dinner, Hattie and Joe and I sat outside in the cold chatting for about an hour.

The wine and the two huge, stiff Bulldogs I’d had at the bar combined to get me drunk. By the time Brett had gone to bed and Hattie & Joe had left, I was pretty tipsy, which is probably why I slept until ten today.

Thank God I didn’t get up at 5:30 again, I’d have had to kill myself.

In which you learn I have a dinner date tonight.

Tonight, I’m meeting the girls (Christina and Tahmi, so far) at Los Portales for a pre-birthday dinner thang.

Yay!

Come join us, if ya wanna! We’ll be there at 5:30 or so.

In which I use chemicals to make myself feel like shit. And quite by accident, too.

When Corby and I sat at the bar a few weeks ago and discussed the world at large, we spent quite some time on the topic of drunkard’s remorse: that feeling you have the day after drinking of extreme shame and embarassment, even if you know you didn’t do anything unacceptable.

Corby’d never heard the phrase before, but he knew the feeling. I don’t remember where I learned it, maybe from Joe, but it fits. I know they go over it in AA and Al-Anon, in terms of chemical balance in the brain and endorphins and why drunks feel compelled to drink, blah blah blah.

Anyway, Monday I woke up with a horrible case of drunkard’s remorse. I felt stupid and ugly and provincial and obnoxious. I could remember all my interactions with people, so I know I didn’t actually do anything horrible at the reception besides offer a few sloppy kisses to people, but I still felt like they could all have easily been looking at me thinking, “Damn. She’s so stupid and provincial, so obnoxious. And why the hell does she keep repeating herself? I heard her the first time, for chrissakes.”

Note to self: don’t drink on an empty stomach. You’re simply too old for that shit any more.

After waking up feeling like an asshole, I was ready for grease. Brett and I went out to breakfast with Bo at Fairfield Family Restaurant. Then we went back to Bo’s place to watch football. I took a nap on one of his couches.

Brett and I got home around three, I think, and I spent more time messing with my computer and reading Ilium and thinking about knitting. I tried not to dwell on how stupid and ugly and provincial I was feeling. I also didn’t dwell on the dirty dishes so much that they didn’t get done. At 7:30 I made cabbage and noodles and a massive salad, and we ate it from a TV tray in our dark living room in front of Titanic, which, inexplicably, was what Brett was watching. I went to bed early. Today, I merely feel awkward and unattractive. Tomorrow I should be fine. One hopes.