As briefly mentioned before, last week kinda blew.
Not for one particular reason. Just a bunch of small ones that added up and made me quite hateful by 5:00 on Friday night.
Enter the weekend. My time to relax and recharge.
Friends help with this. They distract. They’re down to play. And they make me feel 10 times better with hardly any effort at all.
But at least I’m a passive aggressive bowler who dresses in high fashion. Naturally.
Mon and I have bowled before. It was after fits of rage a couple of years ago. So Mon had barely gotten the suggestion out of her mouth by the time I looked up deals in my area. One cheap Groupon deal later, we had secured a lane and were sippin’ on Bitch Ale.The ale was on draft. Almost like they saw me coming. Unwashed hair and all. I’m so classy.
And it came served in a goblet in a bowling alley! Because that’s the way us classy broads roll.
Mon threw a million strikes (who is she???). I got two. And that was with the assistance of the guys setting up the pins because they’d “accidentally knock them over” for me (yeah- old school bowling alley up in here… holla’).
The hour of bowling was therapuetic for us. And I like to think the hour of the Amy and Mon show we put on for everyone around us was entertainment for the masses.
What can I say? We’re givers.
We strolled the neighborhood after that for a while before retreating back to my apartment to watch Comedy Central and feast on my latest kichen experiment.
Thanks to my farming roots, there was still a pork loin left over from the last time I visited my ‘rents back in Mid-MO.After googling how exactly to prepare it in the crock pot (I really don’t cook large cuts of meat often), I took my chances by throwing potatoes and carrots in with the loin, dumped veggie broth over all of it, closed my eyes and threw some spices in there, and just let it go.
The house didn’t burn down during our bowling excursion. That in itself was a win.
And yes, I cut into it a million times to make sure it’s done. It doesn’t have to be pretty to taste good.
And because no meal is complete without dessert, we also walked to the nearest custard shop to inhale some sugar.
It’s been decided that no Sunday will ever be perfect again unless ice cream is involved.
My mood is decidedly much better. Tuesday and all.
Sure, it would have passed eventually (my bad moods/slumps normally do). But having friends who all text to see how I’m doing or just pick up on it and are willing to wear used sweaty shoes and buy you a beer?It helps.
I sort of love my girlfriends. They’re awesome.
Go enjoy the day. And if you don’t, go get some Bitch Ale. It’s like cough syrup for the soul.