Livin' La Vida Normal

I went looking to translate the word "normal" into espanol. Did you know it's the same?

And for one sweet weekend I was the same as everyone else...I had a normal weekend.

How are my weekends normally abnormal? I don't really think of them as weekends. No performer does. We tend to do 4-5 performances during the weekend when we're employed. And when we're unemployed? We sussing out ways to get employed.

Every once in a while I will do a meditation weekend. Now that is far from normal as well. It's not even next to normal.

I haven't had a normal weekend in ages. But with the pinky promise of an impending partnership on the boards, I treated myself. And was treated. And was hopefully a treat to others.

Friday night was a potato vodka tasting set up by a new/old friend/soul. I had asked "What's the best potato vodka?" and he'd responded with a contest.

Just say, "Da." Or "Tag." Or nod your head vigorously up and down.

Delicious vodkas, delicious chocolates, delicious rosemary potatoes (Закуски to soak up the delicious vodkas), and delicious company in which to soak my soul. Delicious company who generously toasted me and my pinky promise partnership. Delicious company who touched and skirted and dove into a myriad of subjects in a mere three hours. And when one delicious member left, hide the post-it-notes commenced in the workplace. One of the reasons I'm not allowed in real workplaces...my dangerous house-blend of joy and disruption.

By the way, Luksosova (and I) won.

Saturday was cleaning. I hear that's what the simple folk do on Saturdays. And cooking. I hear that's what the simple folk do as well. But do they make Julia Child's Boeuf Bourguignon?

I think not.

I had missed my friend Spanky's birthday and this was her present. 'Tis dangerous for TiZ to give meals as presents. Chocolate chip cookies pie? Okay. Entire meals? My family members and last boyfriend would say run.

And NEVER ask for a cup of coffee.

But that Julia Child's beyotch knew what she was talking about. If you do exactly what she's written down,* you can't fail. Really.

Really.

I dare you to try.

Spanky really liked it. She stayed for almost four hours. And we ate and talked and drank a delicious sancerre she'd proffered. We ate stinky cheese, too.

I'm always surprised when people choose to chill in my flat. As I've explained, it's a kinda silly place...looks more like an Edwardian child's attic playrooms. But the juju is supposedly good...and most often there are fewer juju-er places I'd rather be.

Maybe people stay because they're exhausted after the climb. I certainly am.

Somewhere along the line I had a nap, too. But not while Spanky was there. That would be rude.

And Sunday? Sunday? A trip to the movies. A walk around the reservoir. A lovely schwitz in the sauna. A trip to the bookstore and a good long read. The good long read is something I haven't done in ages. I can't seem to concentrate on the good long read when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. But there will supposedly be a good long run so a good long read there was.

And that was my weekend. A normal weekend methinks. Methinks I liked it.

Did it make Monday any easier?

Jesus God, no.

*I admit I actually added butter to a Julia Child's recipe. I think she'd approve.** ***

**I now sport a Fat AsS.

***And she's dead.