the olden days

i didn't write for a while because my husband came back from a business trip and i ran out of wine after staying up all night drinking and reading people's random blogs for two weeks. also i was feeling kind of depressed about what a crap hole the whole world seems to me lately, and i just didn't want to unload heavy boring stuff all day. so here's to the positive - hooray!! my kids are alive! bombs aren't falling on my house! i don't live on a farm anymore!! etc..!!!

anyway, a few old friends came to visit over the weekend, and that was nice. none other than my old "crotch" band mate, terri, was in town. she stopped by with her two boys and they staged elaborate star wars related scenarios and fought many plastic light saber duels in the front yard while we talked on and on about how cool we used to be. there were no jam sessions, since we could never play anything much without the drum cues of randy, our drummer.

we spent half the night and a few bottles of wine on our recollections of the old days . her husband politely smiled and nodded, as he had heard it all before. my husband seemed surprised and said things like, "i didn't know that. you never told me that etc..." his favorite story was that for some reason we both had very realisitic rubber baby boy dolls that we used to dress in pirate outfits and take to bars with us. we would demand highchair seats, which for some reason most of the bars actually had, and we would sit them in the seats all night. in my dim recollections, everybody seemed to think it was very funny and we were always popular when we did that, though i don't know why. if i were working and two wacky ladies in polyester zebra pantsuits came in with rubber babies, i think i would be annoyed. but nobody ever was. of course i am a tired old lady imagining myself as a middle aged bar waitress now, like alice or flo from "mel's diner," instead of seeing the perspective of a 20 year old college person bored and waiting for the work night to end.

miles also stopped by that night and he was the fencing consultant. he sucessfully fended off a full scale assault from all four kids at once, each madly slashing a hard plastic light saber at his guts, while he was armed with just a single noodle of pipe insulation. it was truly impressive. he's still got it. the only sad thing is that he wasn't wearing his drunk suit (a "karate kid"-styled headband with chinese writing over a red sun) that terri accidentally lost during one of our frat-party invasions. to complete the outfit, he also used to wear, in tandem with his drunk suit, a photo-journalism vest with about 100 pockets full of half-pints of gin and vodka and lime wedges and tonic and cigars etc... he was a walking bar.

as luck would have it, the next night, my former pop-culture mentor and unwitting lifecoach, fred, stopped by. he found out that he and my four year old son have a lot in common because they both really like the "scooby-doo meets batman" episodes. both my kids talked at great lengths about the various plot twists and turns of scooby-doo and star wars. fred smiled and nodded a lot which is all that my kids require to consider it good conversation.

so it was all good. i still can't figure out the spellcheck button. i push it and nothing happens. so please forgive the spelling. i'm just a country girl toggling back and forth from blogger to dictionary.com. i do my best.