Fried Food and Beer

Which seems to be what I'm subsisting on so far. I've been in the Midwest, visiting my parents, friends and relatives for the last few days. SkyGirl and I flew in on Wednesday (with our own little adventure of forgetting the car seat, retreaving the car seat, and dashing for the plane). The Doctor came in Friday, dealing with the liquidphobia airline industry. She was nearly banned from flight for having too much saliva. SkyGirl's toothpaste, which I had specifically requested, arrived safely in the checked luggage, along with hair gel, anti-bacterial gel, shaving cream, a urine sample and a bottle of ketchup.

I drank and ate a lot on Wednesday. Played golf on Thursday. Drank and ate a lot on Friday. Today drank and ate a lot on a boat on the river. Plus SkyGirl and I floated in life-jackets in a sand quarry, drove 36' cruiser, and towed a very expensive speed boat that had run out of gas. My golf game was what one would expect from a once a year golfer; one good shot followed by an atrocious shot that leaves me trapped in the rough for the rest of the hole. Two balls were lost to water hazards, and one to the roof of a nearby house, I fear. Such a dreadful slice.

It's kind of late here. The family has all gone to bed. The Doctor and SkyGirl are sound asleep in the back bedroom, the aunt, uncle and nephew are tucked into the master bedroom, and mom and dad are sound asleep in the front office, having donated the above master bedroom to one of their favorite grandsons and fetus. I should be in bed as well, but I am stealing bandwith from a nearby neighbor, burning my father's CDs (Emmylou Harris at the moment, "Meet me at the wrecking ball, wrecking ball" in a haunting, lost girl vibrato that kills me, even on tiny, tinny iBook speakers.

Tomorrow we will wake, dine on something fried and and something else sweet. There will be fruit and coffee, the latter of which I will drink of too much. There will be comments about the abundance of tomatoes, none of which were home grown. And then we will settle down into a chaotic dance of making appetizers, dinner, dancing with toddlers, running out to the store, folding laundry, running back out to the store and then welcoming the aunts, uncles, cousing and SkyGirl's great-grandmother for SkyGirl's premature birthday party. She will probably get lots of things that the Doctor and I will struggle to stuff into two suitcases and fly back to the desert. And we will drink too much wine, eat too many pieces of cake, and my dad will make his sisters laugh until they hurt.

Then monday will come, a third of the people will depart, and the Doctor and I will use the quiet to plan the next six months to 12 years of our lives.

Now, I am going to sleep and dry out for tomorrow. As SkyGirl says: "Burpf!"