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Another Saturday night

Posted in Crazy Wisdom on Sunday, September 12, 2010 at 11:07 am by flerly.

Let me begin by saying, yesterday was a pretty awesome  Saturday for me — peace, joy, fun. Never been to the Yellow Daisy festival before, and JamesT agreed to go with, so we walked Stone Mountain, we marvelled at “fish rubbings”, and scenic posters, and glass bottle art, and giant flowers made of metal — I got a shopping bag, a squished penny, to ride the train, and a few minutes  barefoot in the soft grass to go along with all the unintentional walking exercise and sweat, so it was pretty awesome. Then we took a break to visit Outback — my not so secret favorite place for casual dining — then a brief stop at home to place pennies and notice I should have bought another book.

Then we inevitably get sucked into a Star Trek: TNG episode when I flip on the tv, because it is “The Game” and we are geeks. Deanna explains to Riker her ritual for eating chocolate as she suggestively swirls fudge around the ridiculous glass contraption her tiny dessert has been served in, and we are struck with how perfect the weather is to go get ice cream and just sit outside with it. To Brusters we go, and my perfect pistachio/hot fudge sundae ensues, causing me to giggle and swirl fudge suggestively around the rim of my tiny paper cup, lamenting my need for the ridiculous Star Trek ice cream serving dish, which James seconds since his tiny paper cup did nothing to preserve what is now his container of liquid lime sherbert. We’re fairly caught up in our own ridiculousness and conversation, where we had decided to head back over for the Saturday night laser show, when a perfectly sweet young couple sit down next to us and strike up a conversation. James’ toe shoes are always a good conversation starter, but this surprisingly went beyond that — to the point when we walked away we almost felt like we should have invited them to go with us — if they hadn’t had the baby in the stroller. Occasionally you can just sit out on a bench and have a nice conversation with people in the lovely fall evening air.

Then, back to Stone Mountain — decent parking spot, picnic blanket, camera, tri-pod, decent spot on the lawn, get all set up and… oh hey is that lightning? Smartphones light the night as radar is checked, and things are repacked quickly as we decide that particular crowd of people with their coolers, baby-strollers, fussy children, etc., would be even less fun when the sky dropped on them in a few minutes, and we’d rather not spend the rest of our lives being soaking wet fighting our way to the car or out of here with the masses. A brisk walk back to the car ensued, accompanied by a few other smartphone-radar wielding folks who fell into step, and we were out of there and back home just in time for the lightshow. We turned off all the houselights and opened the front door to enjoy the beautiful but brief storm, and I’m sure the cats wondered at our sanity.

Meanwhile we laze around on the front carpet, blissfully recalling the exertions of the day, and our joy at dodging the downpour in the crowd bullet at the last second, planning for things to do on Sunday — what a joy it is to have a weekend in town. Here, as the lightning is dancing across the sky, is where the house phone rings — and I  at first think it must be Joyce calling because her spidey-sense knows there’s a tornado around us and she knows we’re just the kind of people who forget to take cover from such things because we’re having so much fun enjoying the rain fall sideways, but it is Kit and Bob, inviting us over to play at their house because after 8 hours of drinking at Taco Mac in front of various sports things on screens, they decided to go home — and we know we’re going to go because it is just that kind of day full of wonderful unexpected opportunities to enjoy each other and friends and life.

And I am so glad we went, because otherwise we would never have had the James finished three entire bottles of vodka in one evening story — which sounds more scandelous if you don’t know they were airline bottles. Or we wouldn’t have been gifted with the insight that one of my best features is that no matter what clothes I’m wearing, my boobs are always located in the expected place on my body — as opposed I must assume to some other of Kit’s friends, whose boobs tend to roam at random around their bodies, perhaps affected by gravitational pull or some kind of wind shear. Or that Nina Simone — though she sounds like a man — is so awesome she can do no wrong, even though sometimes Kit hears a song she thinks is crap is able to decide it’s not actually crap once she is informed it is Nina Simone, who is so awesome she can do no wrong, and why do you think she sounds like a man?

It was also fun that we at last got the full story of Mercedes and Brad’s Awesome Mississippi Adventure, complete with the Brad version of southern accents, which is quite entertaining. And not last or least –because the ability to retain all such Saturday-night-drunk wisdom has escaped me when I didn’t rush home and write this all down at 4am — if we hadn’t gone, we might never have known that our ability to tell when people are “just fooling” with us becomes impaired as those people drink more, and thus they must — to avoid any misunderstanding — begin to notify us — before, during, or after the “just fooling” fact that they are in fact, “just fooling”.

Also, I’d like to note that my “fuel or rest” now response is getting worse — as I find myself less able to stay awake and non-cranky passed the point where my body decides we’re either going to have to eat again or just go to bed. Last night, I managed about two hours of continued interaction — after nibbling 2 almonds that tasted like walnut, 1 cashew that tasted like walnut, and finally just one of the walnuts that had tainted the entire mixed nut container. But really after finishing three entire bottles of vodka I wasn’t about to let JamesT drive us home, even though my massively sleepy yet completely sober ass was probably just as impaired, so it was a sea salt and cracked pepper cashew that saved our life last night — or rather, a handfull of the goodies still tucked in my car from a previous road trip. And thus we are alive today to tell the tales and pass on the widsom of the pint.

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