Weekendus Fugit

After blathering on about Dubya and the war on terror, I then did some shopping and gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning. Once it was near spotless, I proceeded to dirty it again by making dinner - raspberry chicken. It involved chicken titties in a creamy raspberry sauce which included raspberry vinegar, fresh raspberries, and some fairly expensive raspberry liqueur. Nothing quite like heavy cream in a vinegar reduction! Tomorrow I am to make a cherry-chocolate tart. I've got most of the requisite ingredients - eggs, flour, milk, and the like - but need to get some, among other things kirsch or cherry brandy. We're going to have a cabinet full of liqueurs soon. Does anyone need some mezcal? We've got gallons of the stuff, worm'n'all.

Tomorrow also brings company. Becca's parents, paternal grandparents, and maternal grandmother will all be here at 11 for a cookout thingy. I'm not sure if I should hang about or not. I'm certainly welcome to but it's a family kind of thing. That's a bridge I can cross later, I suppose.

Yesterday Stevie, Becca, Brad, Becky, and I went out boating. The plan was to anchor in front of Warner Park and catch the Rhythm'n'Booms fireworks display, drinks in had and preferably in the party island. But it was for naught. Our current theory is that our alternator is shot. We came to this theory after many failed attempts at starting the engine while drifting towards shore. The theory also came into existence after Stevie and I pulled the boat 200 yards back to our slip. We were in a shallow area so we could walk - in the slimey muck. It wasn't too bad at first as I sank only shin high. Then it got deeper. Eventually it got above my waist and I was covered in slimey, muddy crap that stank to high hell. I shifted position so I was on my back kicking into it as there was no way I could trudge through 3+ feet of mud. My legs were really sore when I jumped back aboard. I was winded and then I got a headache. So I drank some water and laid back. Eventually the headache dissipated and, at one point, I sang, "That old gray mare ain't what she used to be". Don't ask why. Then I told Becky about how I sang "Puttin' On the Ritz" like the monster in Young Frankenstein one day at work. When I actually did my imitation, she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that I could see tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a good tension breaker after having realized that we were gonna catch the fireworks in port. So we settled back and drank and waited for the fireworks. I got some crappy picture of them although my video turned out much better. Here's the long photo that was any good:



Despite the engine problems and the walking through slime, it was a fun time. We had some cocktails, the weather was gorgeous, and the company was good. Plus the stars were just immaculate after the fireworks. The stray clouds had all dissipated and I could see all of Carl Sagan's billions and billions of stars. The Big Dipper was right behind us high in the sky.

I'm looking forward to making that tart tomorrow. Hell, I look forward to anything that involves chocolate. One of the nice things about today was that I kept myself busy. Whether it was reading, writing, making a podcast, cleaning - whatever. I didn't think about The Dulcinea much today and I avoided feeling guilty about our relationship. Plus I also avoided being obsessed with sex. Not that being so is always a bad thing, it's just that, when you're not getting any, the frustration, um...mounts, shall we say. I can't believe how fast this weekend has gone by. I've been fairly productive although in ways I wasn't planning on. Well, for now I'm going to take off all my clothes, lie down in bed, and listen to some audio drama.