I have never written a post under the influence. Before. Hoss said he didn’t have his first beer until he was 14 and that was peculiar because most people his age drank earlier than that. I never drank- ever- until I was 26. No one stopped me. I just didn’t. I was busy.
Then, when I started going out with the father of my children, I started going to the local blues bar on Friday and Saturday evenings. The first time I went I thought, gee, this is fun and I drank a pitcher of beer and 4 glasses of red wine. In retrospect I wouldn’t marry someone who wouldn’t at least advise me, first time out.
So, while he went and got the car, I sat on the steps breathing in that way that you do to avoid puking, except at that point you’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t know you’re avoiding puking, you’re just breathing funny and it strikes you as very odd. When he pulled up with the car and pushed the passenger side door open I said that I wasn’t allowed to take rides with strangers. He said he wasn’t a stranger, he was him, and I fell off the bar steps laughing.Then he drove me home and when I opened the door to get out my dear kitty, McTab, came up to rub on my feet. Which were trying to get solid footing before I stood up. I bent down, said "nice kitty" and hurled all over her. The father of my children saw me to the house and then kindly hosed down the cat.
The next day I recorded a video on infant and toddler cognitive assessment for the Johnson and Johnson Corporation. I still have that video and I clearly jump and then wince every time the 18 month old pounds the table with the red block. After that I didn’t drink again until Daniel was six months old- a rather long dry spell. But on that occasion we left him with my little sister and walked to a friend’s PhD celebration and I drank 3 glasses of champagne punch and giggled for an hour until the father of my children took me home to nurse the baby. Which I did, although I had no memory of it. 10 hours later I woke up with a start and shrieked because, prior to that, Daniel had not slept longer than 3 hours. I was certain that he was dead in his crib but no- he was just blissfully knocked out.
After that, I figured I’d found the cure to his colic and I would drink a beer before his last nursing of the evening. THAT, my friends, is how you get a baby to sleep through the night.
When I was 46 I smoked marijuana for the first time. (I know- half of you are disillusioned and the other half think I’m a total nerd.) It burnt my throat and I nearly choked to death but I persevered. I was at a concert at Tanglewood and Yo-Yo Ma was playing (sorry, Bonnie). I have to tell you (now that my children have forgotten all about DARE): I liked it. It was great. The only drawback was smoking marijuana rendered me speechless. Which wouldn’t be a problem except I couldn’t speak for two days. Two whole days. 48 hours. Not a word. All I could do was giggle.
The next time I had two full days without children and nothing to do (about a year later) I tried it again and the same thing happened. I covered my head with a blanket and giggled. Tee hee. That’s it. I couldn’t speak. Not a word. Couldn’t. I gave up pot. Sort of sadly. It just didn’t fit in my life.
Now I have settled on a comfortable pattern. I like a drink. One. A glass of wine.
A gin and tonic. Or a martini at a fancy dinner out. Two and I have a headache. Three and I’m asleep. So I stick with one. Usually.
It’s been a long hard work week on the heels of a weekend with my parents and tonight we came out to Wit’s End. Where there is nothing to drink except a bottle of champagne left over from our wedding. I’m on my third glass. It’s really good. I’m also working my way through a pint of carmel apple carmel minus the apples. I’m using a spoon. It’s from Whole Paycheck and it’s really really good.
Rich is watching the Red Sox game and his back is to me and he hasn’t noticed yet. As soon as my feet can stick to the floor I’m going to bed. My blood sugar must be 400. I see a headache in my future.
Oh. Go Blue.