Sometimes I Write and Sometimes I Just

My sister and I, two years ago. The Nie Nie to my Cjane. Right?

Last night was the Oskar Blues holiday party. It was at an indoor rec center. There was a Christmas tree made of lettuce and shrimp and it smelled just like you'd expect. I drank less than two full beers and that was enough to encourage me to play ping pong and air hockey and even Dance Dance Revolution, but not dodge ball. Two enormous televisions were given away, but neither one to us, so who cares? When we left it was mild like Colorado May. "I can't drive," I told Noah. "I know," he said. "I saw you go for that second beer and stopped drinking."

Today just as I woke up and was deciding whether to cry or puke, I got a text from another OB wife. ("Do any women work at Oskar Blues?" someone asked me once. "One," was my reply). It said, "Ouch". I agreed and laughed and started to cry.

(Noah actively seeks out female applicants for brewing jobs, but so far none have worked out, due to availability and distance. Of course, the tasting room is staffed and managed mostly by women but I'm not sure that helps?)

Today I drove Noah to work under pouring rain from a sunny sky. "Why is it doing this to us?" I moaned, knowing that in Colorado it is frigid and snowy. "Because a long long time ago, someone in Brevard did something very, very bad," he said.

It rains and rains and rains. In 16 days we leave for California. I can't wait to get the hell out of here.