2009-07-31 - 10:48 a.m.
This is a long ass one - but there are pictures!

Last time I promised a recap of my time at home. I just deleted and retyped the word “home” about five times – I can’t figure out what that word means to me anymore. Is home the townhouse from which I am currently typing? The place I spend most of my time, the place for which I pay rent, where I eat, sleep, work and play? Or is it the white house with three garages on the last street in town where my parents live? Where I grew up, the place my parents took me to after I was born and the place from which I left for college? I don’t suppose it matters much. I’m just going to recognize that it’s a fluid concept.

I went back to my Hometown on July 3rd and spent the holiday weekend with my parents, brother, sister and brother-in-law. It was a really nice weekend – my dad and I went for a run together (actually he biked while I ran) and then the next day we just biked. He kicked my ass on the bikes! I was definitely lagging behind at about mile 6 because his pace was just brutal. Never underestimate a man who has not missed his hour of exercise in 200 days (seriously. My dad has exercised an hour a day for 200 consecutive days. And his doctor still has the nerve to say he lives a “sedentary” lifestyle). My siblings went home on the 5th, leaving me alone with the parentals for the remainder of the month.

It was actually very nice. In my previous experience, any extended period of time living my parents leads to me being driven crazy by them. It must be a product of growing up and being mature, whatever, or just not having them support me anymore, but we got along great. I was actually sorry to leave. That may have more to the fact that I am seriously dreading what’s coming down the pipe (softball, the eminent threat of my returning cluster headaches [they haven’t started yet, but I’m only three week away from when they started last year]), but I think it also has to do with the fact that I really enjoyed being a lazy ass, eating terribly and hanging out with the ‘rents.

During the week I was with them, but the weekends were party time with my friends that I miss so much. The 18th was Einstein’s bachelorette party and boy, did I have fun. We had minors among the party, so we couldn’t go out to the bars. Which meant that I got completely smashed for free! LT had two pitchers of vodka-and-sweet&sour that we demolished. Actually, I think Red and I pretty much took care of that second pitcher. I’ve never drank so much or been so drunk in my life. We started out by playing “Never Have I Ever” and I actually had done some of the stuff (shockingly, considering my past NHIE record) so I got a bit drunk there. Then we started the dance party. Shots were consumed throughout. Then someone (me, I think) suggested a push-up contest. Then someone else suggest arm wrestling. Then bridges! We are a very athletic bunch once intoxicated, evidently. I have never been so sore after a party in my life – my arms, my abs – God! Well, one of my arms hurt for an entirely different reason. Emmy had to leave the party early and in my misguided, but well meaning vodka fog, I was refusing to let her out of the door. I had both arms up against the frame and both feet wedged against the bottom and was letting no one pass out of LT’s apartment. Well, LT, violent, aggressive kid that she is, wants to let Emmy go, so she grabs my shoulders, twists and then hurls me away from the door. But, as I may have mentioned before, I was three sheets to the wind and instead of flying away from the door, I fly right into the door frame. My left arm took the brunt. I was blissfully unaware of the pain, but went over to pregnant and sober J, clutching my arm and saying “J, look. I think this hurts”. And oh boy did it. J put ice on it right away, but that didn’t stop it from blooming into a beautiful black/blue/purple/red/green knotted, hot mess. It was the size of my fist! I snapped some photos a few days later, but they really don’t capture the majesty of this monster.

You get just a hint of my blonde curls in that second photo and it’s really a shame the light destroyed how that bruise looked. Really. People forgot all about being polite when I was in public and would either stare blatantly with amazed/concerned looks on their face, or stop me to ask “What happened to your arm!?”. Even J’s husband, the state trooper, thought it was nasty and he knows something about nasty bruises.

My mother and father were aghast and wondered how much alcohol had played into my injury, especially after smaller bruises kept blooming all over my arms and legs. Whatever. It was the first time I’d been drunk since March. Besides, I’m adult, it’s legal, and I didn’t drive anywhere or injure anyone other than myself. I was amazingly hangover free the next day, too. I had camped out on the floor at about 1:30, picking a location close to the bathroom because I knew it was be a busy night. Not for puking, but because I always get it into my head about midway through drinking heavily that I should drink water. Lots of it. I’m guessing between midnight and 8 AM, I had at least 12 glasses of water. Not enough water to entirely flush out my system and kill me, but enough to ensure that I got up every hour to pee and drink more water. Awesome hangover prevention. Seriously. You don’t get a lot of sleep, but you don’t get a hangover either.
The next weekend was Einstein’s wedding. The ceremony was nice, everyone looked pretty, so on and so forth. I ended up babysitting J’s husband and calling it a night early in an attempt to tricking him into going back to the hotel room to be with his pregnant and increasingly pissed off wife. Fun times!

I spent a lot of time during the week reading. I did spend one week cleaning out and painting my childhood bedroom. That was a load of joy. Anyway, I finished “Atlas Shrugged” while home. I’m very glad I read that book. Yes, it was a beast that took me forever to finish because I didn’t really get into the story until page 500, but I’m happy I stuck it out. Not only did it give a story I can tell my reluctant readers at school, but it’s just a good book. And it seems to be pretty pertinent to our currently social/economical/political situation. Scary.
Speaking of our current social/economical/political situation, is anyone else getting as sick of hearing about the “beer summit” as I am? Good grief! Put a fork in it already! I don’t give a shit that they’re sitting down to a beer together! The whole thing, from the beginning to now, is ridiculous in my own opinion.

Okay, family is in town this weekend, so anything I want to get done should probably happen now. I’m meeting some of my G-ma’s family at their reunion. It’s kind of weird.