Yup, August is in the can. The month started out strong, with girls' night at a friend-chef-coolgirl's house up north. We drank wine on a hot summer evening, we watched her chickens run around and ate delicious snacks and drank homemade limoncello and laughed at wisdom teeth videos. I got 2 of my nails did. What a treat.Then, Friday was Gaga, rescheduled at Key Arena, and I was less excited for the show (my 3rd time seeing her) than to hang out with good pals over salt-n-pepper tofu and drinks. I met a new friend and closed out the night by myself, at the neighborhood hot dog cart, treading lightly on my high heeled wedges. Two days later--Book of Mormon, with my sis. We pre-funked nearby on happy hour martinis and potato nachos. Mmmph. I checked out Radiator Whiskey a couple nights later with some pals. My neighbor and her rad husband work there and the whiskey drinks were stellar (and a lil spendy). It was a tough night--I got some news I didn't want to hear--but, now I know what's up, for real, and now I can proceed.
The next night was a good friend-artist's birthday party on the hill. Imagine cucumber and gin drinks, an outdoor patio, a warm summer evening, scads of friends--yes.
Next up--Trombone Shorty at the zoo. Big ups to the big man for a hott show. And a loud chorus of boo's to the zoo for pretty much fucking up everything you could want in a venue: letting kids--babies!--in for free, operating two miniscule beer gardens with zero view of the stage, and no extra bathrooms, meaning females spent a good ten to fifteen minutes waiting to pee. Parents--you're in trouble too. Spring for a babysitter you fucking cheapskates, so the rest of us can enjoy the show without smelling shitty diapers or listening to your kid whine. And to the lady who tried to make 2 dudes sit down so she could see--ha ha. Kudos guys for laughingly saying no.
A few days later I hopped in a car with my Sid and Hammy and we headed up to Vancouver. A pit stop at Duty Free for whiskey, and then onward to Granville Island and our party pad. The visit was stressful and fun and maddening and a little melancholy. During the ceremony's mini-sermon, hate settled in the air like a choking gloom. I looked around afterward at these smiling people, invoking a deity and passing judgement. Ah, no.
On Saturday, I was home by 7pm and in a Zipcar by 8 to check out a friend's housewarming. I got there in good time but it was a bust; people were settled in, comfortable in their party cliques, not inclined to extend themselves, and so I was on the road again by 9.30. Mid-week I met up with a good pal to catch up after her month away meditating. She's gorgeous and smart and we egg each other on in the best possible way. When I left her at the bar, one of the owners was chatting her up. Girl got game.
The last Saturday was me and Hammy, on the road to the coast to do some trailer repair and generally hang out. By Sunday I was dragging, but I had breakfast and bloody mary's with a good pal, catching up on news--a funeral, a surly ex, a sick parent.
The news continues relentlessly. And so do we.
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