Carnivorous cravings

I find that some days go on forever, and they seem like a kaleidoscopic combination, changing, unique, absurd.

Today was one of those days. It really began with last night, after drinking more beer than I am accustomed (surprisingly! - I discovered the joy of really light beer -sol- in the sunshine) and then partook of margaritas at Alison and Deborah's, while Deborah, dead-pan in all her Irish antics taught Isabella to say, "Bush is a wanker" among other indiscretions. Funny woman, too bad the teaching position she got is in Gainseville Fla.

After this we met with M. and a new friend from his new job:) and the rest of the dept. at Los Arroyos, for dinner with Maria José. I dropped Alison off, but got sucked in to her bathroom, and Robin had arrived, (he's off to Germany and then to his house in Tuscany... sounds lovely...next summer when I go to Europe we'll go visit, I hope!) who is great with children and convinced I. to play checkers. Now when I drink, which is not very often, I apparently become very inconsiderate, or at least totally unaware of common courtesy, but I guess we ended up staying for over an hour, and I had left my phone in the car... So we can imagine the scene that awaited.

I can never sleep when I am very upset, and last night was no exception... and of course, I was alone again with my fears and confusion, coupled with an organism that violently rejects alcoholic consumption, well, we can also imagine that I looked very much like death warmed over while administering exams to my undergrads this morning at 8. I. had to come with me because M. works until after 9 am, but she brought her "homework" and practiced letter writing, snuggling up to my colleagues and plopping herself happily in their laps, painting her lips with lipgloss and generally making herself a pesty (but a cute one).

I did get almost all my grading finished, and came home to another shower and very hard cry, after which things seemed better. I. asked to go out and play, and I said, "ok, but no one can come in." To which she responded, "right, because the house is a _Disaster_" "yes." "And because you're naked." "right. but no need to share that information with anyone." She promptly ran out the back door to play with Nico and Isabelle. And as I monitored her playing, listening through open windows, an hour later I hear Isabelli (age 3) ask, very loudly, "Are your mommy and daddy still naked?" (which was unfortunately true) "I don't know... Mamí?" she calls as she clomps up the stairs. "Hold on a sec. I'll be right down... I quickly wrap my favorite black and red skirt, the one that is now threadbare and falling apart, but with which I can't bear to part, around my unclothed loins and throw a t-shirt on with no bra, and meet the children in the living room. "See?" says I. "She's not naked." Whew. Close call.

Isabelle and Isabella played dress up while I lounged in my bedroom again, and after a while, after M. had left for work, there was a little peeing incident. Apparently they had conspired to blame it on Nico, who was nowhere to be found, but in Isabella's clever explanation, somehow Nico had been responsible for his little sister peeing in her underpants and making a sizeable puddle on Isabella's rug. Argh. Then she went home.

M. came home with food for Kirsten's (Pepé's mom) birthday, and he bought flowers as per my request. Funny he should pick my very favorite flowers (which I might add, I have never received. ever.) purple hyacinths. I love everything about these flowers, their smell, their color, their shape... I don't think it hurts that as a little girl one was a birthday present that we then planted in the pacasandra behind the house and every year it would bloom at my birthday, emitting its pungent fragrance. Those were the days, when getting older meant something exciting, not just another year where I didn't get any cuter, or smarter or nicer... Ah yes, the beauty of possibility. I know I am not _old_ yet, but I feel like I have failed to do so many things that I should have done by now. And I am nearing 30.

The party was a good time, lots of beer, and red meat on the BBQ, and fresh mozzarella and tomato salad... (mmm.) The kids all got down to business, creating a pajama party and managing to get to hang out until well after 11 (second night in a row for miss monkey, god I am an irresponsible mother). We were listening to quite the mix of music, including the Cure, and "Salty chocolate balls" which is apparently a South Park favorite (no real tv culture for me for the last 10 years means the last cartoon that I watched on MTV was Ren and Stimpy - and oh what times those were.) We were remembering lyrics to King Missile's "Jesus was way cool" and "Detachable penis"... which lead into our lovely off-color conversation, about sex after childbirth and teaching under the influence of body hair. I love women. They're rad. Did I mention that?

So I was busted by I. who had gone home with M. (all the way across the courtyard) and so instead of popping open another cerveza, I went home to read her a book. At midnight. Tomorrow I will be required to continue this pary bent which started Thursday night after the choral concert to say goodbye to Muriel... (my arm is severely twisted can't you tell?) up the mountain at the Rancho for María José's real despedida, which looks like it is starting midday, but sheduled well into the night... Heck, when one doesn't have to officially go to work, one can meander lazily over to campus while others are headed to the gym, or on their lunch break. Of course I do have to read an article by Italo Calvino and write some sort of a paper for Tuesday or Wednesday, but, uh... let's not let reality set in too soon, shall we?