Sunday, March 11, 2007
THAT kind of a day
It was a bloody Sunday. That is, it was a Sunday of Bloody Marys avec mes amis. Hermit that I am, it is not often that people set foot over my threshhold. Threshold? Old thresh? Yeah... did I mention Bloody Marys?
Aaaaanyway...
So it's about 6:30 in the morning (7:30 really, what with DST... yep, daylight IS sexually transmitted. Did you know that?) and the dog is snoring, the sun is shining and I'm wide awake. Just lying there. Thinking. Planning. Then cartoons, coffee and the usual Sunday morning ritual of doing laundry, dishes, scrubbing the bathroom with a toothbrush. You know. Like I said: thuh you-shoo-all. Then it became all about bein' a social gal. Had the vodka 'n all the fixins. Even my mom's infamous 'dilly beans' for garnish. Got all the stuff to make an onion pie (no, it's NOT a quiche, goddammit!). Other munchies in the cupboard. Check. Oh wait... the tomato juice looks a little chunky. Mmm... not good. So I threw the dog out in the back yard with the mud and a prime rib bone and headed to the store for some V8.
Anyone else ever go the store for ONE thing and come back $30 lighter? I shouldn't be allowed in the local Hy-Vee for just this reason. Face it, when you spend more money per month than your mortgage? Ya got a problem, my friends. But friends're a great excuse to buy shit you'd never get for yourself... like summer sausage. I loves me some summer sausage.
Hoodleboopers later (right 'round one o'clock), my friend Jessie showed up with her 14-year-old, Nate (aka The Guy With a Hollow Belly Even Though He's a Stick). I love it when she brings her boys. Mostly 'cuz I love the fact they want to come HERE. I mean, good lord WHY? Makes me feel kinda cool. In a teenager sort of way. Sam (who's 11) usually prefers other venues. He's into sports. We don't allow sports on the boob toob here. I'm guessing March Madness was too much for him to miss today.
Getting back to it (train of thought, that was)... so Jessie shows up with Nate. I'd baked the pie shell, and was waiting for butter to melt before caramelizing the onions. She rocks on in totin' some fresh squeezed ruby red Tay-has grapefruit juice. Can your mouth water a little more? Yeah, to hell with the Bloodies. I want ThAT.
A bit later, neighbor Mark showed up. We giggled, blabbed about non-extant Iowa City bars and such, listened to various tales one or the other of us had to share -- drank -- laughed more, wrinkled our noses at the Ever Flatulent Dog that is Gus, and just overall relaxed. Oh, and the pie was good, if a bit salty. Heck, even Jason put in a beer-long appearance.
But after everyone left, I felt kind of sad. So I sat outside on the front steps, sunglasses on, soaking up those 4:00 rays and looking at this blue sky that goes on forever. The kind of sky that outlines everything in such sharp contrast you think you're dreaming the clarity. And now, with both doors open and the setting sun angling its gossamer fingers through the glass, I know I'm tucked in for the night. I am happy. All is clear.
It's been that kind of a day.
Who dat snappin' back? |
Aaaaanyway...
So it's about 6:30 in the morning (7:30 really, what with DST... yep, daylight IS sexually transmitted. Did you know that?) and the dog is snoring, the sun is shining and I'm wide awake. Just lying there. Thinking. Planning. Then cartoons, coffee and the usual Sunday morning ritual of doing laundry, dishes, scrubbing the bathroom with a toothbrush. You know. Like I said: thuh you-shoo-all. Then it became all about bein' a social gal. Had the vodka 'n all the fixins. Even my mom's infamous 'dilly beans' for garnish. Got all the stuff to make an onion pie (no, it's NOT a quiche, goddammit!). Other munchies in the cupboard. Check. Oh wait... the tomato juice looks a little chunky. Mmm... not good. So I threw the dog out in the back yard with the mud and a prime rib bone and headed to the store for some V8.
Anyone else ever go the store for ONE thing and come back $30 lighter? I shouldn't be allowed in the local Hy-Vee for just this reason. Face it, when you spend more money per month than your mortgage? Ya got a problem, my friends. But friends're a great excuse to buy shit you'd never get for yourself... like summer sausage. I loves me some summer sausage.
Hoodleboopers later (right 'round one o'clock), my friend Jessie showed up with her 14-year-old, Nate (aka The Guy With a Hollow Belly Even Though He's a Stick). I love it when she brings her boys. Mostly 'cuz I love the fact they want to come HERE. I mean, good lord WHY? Makes me feel kinda cool. In a teenager sort of way. Sam (who's 11) usually prefers other venues. He's into sports. We don't allow sports on the boob toob here. I'm guessing March Madness was too much for him to miss today.
Getting back to it (train of thought, that was)... so Jessie shows up with Nate. I'd baked the pie shell, and was waiting for butter to melt before caramelizing the onions. She rocks on in totin' some fresh squeezed ruby red Tay-has grapefruit juice. Can your mouth water a little more? Yeah, to hell with the Bloodies. I want ThAT.
A bit later, neighbor Mark showed up. We giggled, blabbed about non-extant Iowa City bars and such, listened to various tales one or the other of us had to share -- drank -- laughed more, wrinkled our noses at the Ever Flatulent Dog that is Gus, and just overall relaxed. Oh, and the pie was good, if a bit salty. Heck, even Jason put in a beer-long appearance.
But after everyone left, I felt kind of sad. So I sat outside on the front steps, sunglasses on, soaking up those 4:00 rays and looking at this blue sky that goes on forever. The kind of sky that outlines everything in such sharp contrast you think you're dreaming the clarity. And now, with both doors open and the setting sun angling its gossamer fingers through the glass, I know I'm tucked in for the night. I am happy. All is clear.
It's been that kind of a day.
