Dont Mince Words

Ice bucket, wine chiller, pint glasses, and bourbon ice forms.

A married-with friend was recently visiting the MaxiPad for the first time. He took me up on my beer offer and I opened my freezer to pull out a chilled pint glass. He took a picture and sent it to his wife. When I asked him why, he said, “You can tell you don’t have kids. No Eggos. No pizza. All you have are booze-related needs. That is so refreshing.”

Well, I do have bone broth, frozen blueberries, and marrow bones (for Dixie). Otherwise, I eat fresh and drink cold.

Two days later my friend texted me “Don’t quote me, but kids are cunts.” My childless girlfriend and I laughed, cheers-ed, and took another sip. Being single has its perks.

Libby Hill Sledding Party

I like Fall. I like rain. I don’t mind one minor (< six inches) snowstorm a year. When blizzard conditions were forecasted for my birthday weekend, it was just another excuse to stock up. My southern California dog and I were ready.

Blizzards aren’t new to me. I was born during one. However, my snow skills are rusty since moving back to Virginia. I knew I needed alcohol and coffee. My neighbors told me I was on a good grid and it was unlikely my power would go out. I made soup and waited.

In the end, I was reminded why I love city living. It all goes back to that walk score. While my bless-their-hearts suburban friends were stuck in their cul-de-sacs, I was walking to restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops. My neighborhood was drunk. Seriously drunk and happy. We had a good weekend and got more FitBit miles in than most.

Now the thaw is on and hopefully all will be back to normal in time for the recycle truck to come and dump our heaving bins…. until the next storm…or birthday.

Driving home after Christmas on I-95 is no treat. It gets worse when you look at traffic maps and see red lines from south Jersey to northern Virginia.

I was presented with a gift 30 miles from home after already being in the car eight hours. I felt that weird, oh-crap feeling and pulled off to a McDonalds only to discover my worst fear – my period started. I no longer carried supplies and the bathroom had no dispenser, so those recycle brown napkins with the embossed ‘M’ went between my legs.

I probably jinxed myself this fall when I was cleaning my closet and decided to toss all my B-team period panties. It had been eight months and odds were IT was not coming back. But, like Punxsutawney Phil, it’s back so I think I have at least one last winter of bad lady times. And there’s nothing like ringing in the new year with a Super Plus.