Remember when I said that December was a bit of an exhale? Bwah! I was smoking something really special.
This weekend we were full of stuff to do — Esteban left today for a business trip to Vegas. Since he had Scotty’s bi-weekly Dorkathalon on Friday night, we spent most of Saturday morning running around to help him get packed while also squeezing in our normal Sunday routine into Saturday morning, since we wouldn’t be able to do it Sunday. This routine involves giant vats of Starbucks followed by the splitting of a Swiss cheese bagel. We also did what every middle class yuppy seems to do on a Saturday morning — we went to Costco, where our Get Up And Go-edness was our own downfall, as we were far too early for samples. Because seriously, that’s the reason you go to Costco on the weekend, right? Well, and to also get dog drugs at their pharmacy (Let me tell you, if your animals need regular medications, Costco is the BEST and way way way cheaper than anywhere else. Plus the pharmacists at our Costco seem to be kind of lonely, so they know Zuzu by name and always ask for updates on how her med cocktail is going.) We did manage to do some holiday shopping too, and buy at least four items to fulfill our “All important random things that we spend money on that you really need but make you feel like you got screwed” quota for Costco shopping. In this case, plastic bins. Why should plastic bins be so expensive? Even at Costco, I can’t believe these things aren’t basically free. Or, you know, a dollar a dozen wouldn’t be unreasonable.
We went back home and Esteban finished packing while I made pecan pies for the holiday party we had in the evening. We tucked out for sushi lunch, which was lovely, and then made it back home in time to get ready, wrap our gift swap gifts and medicate the dog.
The party was fun. Any chance to slap on whorish amounts of eye makeup is a good time in my book. We stayed up far too late and got home and stayed up even later (more dog medication) and then sacked out.
This morning was fairly uneventful — I dropped off Esteban at the airport and then headed out to one of my favorite rural Wisconsin experiences — a chicken hall. Melinda and Kevin were up for the party and we made plans to brunch together. I called up Ward and June (who refuses to call it a chicken hall, but seriously, that’s what it’s called), and also my bestie Fern, who has two growing ravenous children to feed. You see, in Wisconsin, we have a tradition of gathering entire families who go to these family style chicken feed places. You basically eat like ravenous dogs off of communal plates and you don’t even care because it’s just so damned good. And fried. Sure, they offer baked chicken too, which is oestensibly healthier but why eat healthy when you can have broasted (aka pressure deep-fried) chicken and as much as you want? Let’s not fool anyone — that’s the entire point. Plus, it comes with a variety of vegetables, salads, stuffing and gravy and a bunch of dessert bars. So, think Thanksgiving, but with fried chicken instead of turkey and without the drama. All for the low cost of $14 per person. It’s a good time.
I came back home, dealt with the dogs, and then actually took some time to play Minecraft. I now need to clean up the house (because Esteban made deep-dish pizza on Friday night and the kitchen hasn’t been right since) and finish decorating the Christmas tree in the living room. In theory, I will feel good enough to then set up the tree in the scotch room, but that involves removing the loveseat from that room. The loveseat is going into the guest bedroom for now, but before that happens, I want to remove two dressers from that room. Before I can remove the dressers, I have to empty them. That’s why we needed the bins. Ah yes, full circle. Tidy.
I still think bins should be a nickel each, damn it.
For now, the oral syringes for the dog’s medication are soaking/sanitizing, the dishwasher needs to be emptied and refilled and there’s a Christmas episode of Gavin and Stacey up on Netflix that isn’t going to watch itself.