Slack takes a holiday

How can I have such a busy weekend and not get anything done? I want to know.

So I got up Saturday morning at a reasonable hour that seems like a very long time ago, and I went down to Doolittle's, the foofy pet supply shop across from Eastern Market where we had a pet adoption event scheduled. The folks bringing the cats and dogs didn't show up until later.

I walked across to the market, snagged some coffee and a danish and came back; by that time, the folks and aminals had shown up. The upshot of the event is that we got applications on either two or three of the dogs and I got a sunburn on the back of my shoulders. Oops.

Mom stopped by at one point. I spent about 15 seconds wondering who the hell the person talking to me was. This bothered me a little, but not until later. I'm going to blame it on having had too much sun and leave it at that.

I went home, fully intending to drink several litres of water then take a nap, but Rob called. He wanted me to go see House of Wax at the AFI and I said no thanks, worn out. He called back a few minutes later saying that the movie had sold out, and that he was standing in front of the Watergate trying to pick out the Dole's balcony.

So I said I'd meet him at Ben's Chili Bowl for chili half smokes and fries. I intended to Metro up there, but I couldn't find my Smartrip card, so I drove. This means that I arrived before Rob, who was walking, because he is insane and likes to walk.

Sitting there in Ben's, watching the guys in the white shirts stained with grease, mustard and ketchup, listening to the sort-of bad soul music and reading the posted menu, I got the sense of living in a big eastern seaboard city. I liked that.

Later Ed and I drove up to Ellen's, where she had a party. There was one guest wearing a flowered shirt tucked into some pants that were neither chinos nor jeans. I found this a little strange for a Saturday, and thought about how Other People's lives are not like My Life.

There were cream-cheese brownies, several kinds of cheese dip, and there was cauliflower. I was happy. At some point I had a really deep thought about the music of R.E.M, but now I don't remember what it was. At one point, I asked Ed what time he thought the baby shower for Ben and Bits started, and he said 4:30. I thought that was late for a baby shower, but I was willing to believe it.

I woke up around 6 a.m. realizing that I'd slept in my contact lenses. The strange thing about this is that my eyes did not hurt at all.

So about 11:30 this--Sunday--morning the phone rang. Burdened as I was with cats, and having no real inclination to get out of bed, I let it ring. When it rang again a few minutes later, I decided there might be somebody on the other end who needed to talk to me, so I got up. and determined by calling voice mail that it had been Ed both times.

He was wrong about the start time and the following conversation ensued:

Koogle: Do you think there will be coffee?
Fedward: It's at somebody's house. How can there not be coffee?

Koog: You're probably right.
Fed: If somebody were coming to my house, I'd have coffee. I assume that Bits' sisters learned the same thing from their mother that we learned from our mothers.

See? See how trusting I am? He said he'd be here in a few minutes, and I struggled to wake up.

I knew my gift was still unrwapped, but the choice between getting dressed in clothes appropriate to an event that would probably include people's parents, and looking around for scissors and tape was pretty obvious. I ended up in a pale pink twin set and white capri pants, very presentable. I also managed to put a little makeup on. When Ed showed up, he noted that I was wearing a color, as opposed to greige.

(Oh. It turns out that my Smartrip card was in the pocket of the pants. Now if I could find my cell phone I'd be in good shape.)

The shower itself featured a lot of cake, pastel colored candies probably remaining from Easter, punch that featured grape juice and Mountain Dew, and coffee. Yes, I had to request the coffee. There were also games. Of course there were games, it was a baby shower!

The least savory of the games was the one in which a sister had removed the labels from eight (8) jars of baby food. She had marked the jar lids with numerals on pieces of masking tape. Our job, as contestants, was to examine each jar and determine its contents.

Jar Number One turned out to contain chicken, so they said; my guess was "paste." Some other guest asked "How did they get chicken to look like that?" which is a valid question. There was little doubt that the scariest jar was the third: among the guesses were "spam," "hot dogs," and "potted meat." Nobody guessed turkey, which is what's in the jar.

I felt very sorry for babies after that game.

Got home, fed the girls, took a nap, watched The Simpsons. That's one jam-packed weekend if you ask me.

before - after