Oof, and other subject matter.

Posted: December 12, 2006 in booze, Calvin, Journal

Slowly, over today’s passage of time, I have become a Cubicle Zombie. I’ve somewhat managed to whittle down my “To Do” list, but I had to sacrifice my sanity in order to do so. I spent ALL DAY trying to resolve overdue invoices for my plethora of vendors. Our AP group is tough to deal with, to say the very least. Oh, I’m sure as individuals they’re fine, but as a process it rather sucks balls.

Thank God for Calvin. For many reasons, tis true, but especially for the fact that he rescued me for brunch today, and I got to have eggs and homefries and sausage. I like my sausage like I like my pancakes, smothered in maple syrup. Heh. You thought I was going for something dirty there, didn’t you? Frisky readers.

We’ve been dating a lot lately. It’s a marvelous thing to go on regular dates with my husband of almost five years. And we’ve been together for almost nine. For instance, on Sunday Calvin and I rode up to Grimaldi’s for The Best Pizza on Earth(tm), then went across the street to the Sugar Cone for a banana split and a mocha malt. THEN we walked to one of the shops nearby (Old Town Scottsdale is very pedestrian friendly), where he proceeded to buy me a leather motorcycle jacket for Christmas. Even though I told him I didn’t need anything (else).

All this was his idea, mind you. Sometimes he gets all romantical and stuff. He wants us to go on another date on Friday to see Eragon at the theater (just because he knows I really want to see it), and have some dinner. And ride the motorcycle some more.

My bike is excellent for us to ride on together. It’s a lot easier to snuggle up against Calvin’s back than on his street bike. If we’re riding without our helmets (oh, I KNOW – we say it’s only because we’re going slowly and a short distance, but you don’t have to preach about the potential for accidents. We’re risk takers, we are) then I prop my chin up on Calvin’s shoulder and we converse while we’re riding along. It’s really, really nice.

We’ve been riding a lot together, hitting various bars and restaurants, or just toodling around. It makes us happy. And one cannot overemphasize the importance of simple things that make day to day life – and day to day married life – enjoyable.

In other news, my fingers hurt. I’ve been practicing the guitar and it’s MURDER (I tell you!) to fret the 1st and 2nd strings. However, I can occasionally make noise come out of it that sounds less like a dying cat and more like (slow, halting, mistake-fraught) music. Calvin is getting a guitar as well (“Dear God, please forgive me for ordering off of QVC… and help me to hold strong against the powers of Esteban…”), and we’re toying with the idea of taking lessons together.

The family that plays together, stays together? I can just see Marie on drums and Michael on the tambourine (I can hear his protesting “HEY!” when he reads this). Heh. The Partridge Family ain’t got nuthin’ on us.

In other, other news, we’ve officially tried Absinthe. ACK. ACK, ACK, ACK. ACK. Yarg.

I love the buzz (like cannabis, except that **cough** I wouldn’t know what that’s like **cough**), but the taste is just plain vomitous. Very STRONG black licorice. Thick, with a STRONG aftertaste. That leaves you burping up (ack) licorice for three hours afterwards.

Of course, that’s if you drink it straight. If you drink it the traditional way (1pt absinthe to 3pt water, poured slowly over a sugar cube), it’s less vomitous, but the buzz is less profound.

And dude, we SO ain’t drinking this stuff for the taste.

  1. […] conversations. Five speeding tickets. A hundred games of Rock Band. Two sabbaticals. Two bottles of Absinthe. One new roof. One attacking bee colony. One death in the family. One Marine Boot Camp graduation. […]

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