Saturday night Tracey came down.  Originally, we planned on going out to dinner with the group, having a couple drinks and chatting.  But, Tony was still out of town, Danny (Tracey's man) was back home, Stacy has a broken neck* and Jo-Anne was staying with him.

Okay, just Tracey and I.  The Landing, our bar of choice, is gone, has been, it has been bought by other people and they have ripped the interior out of it.  It makes me sad that my dive bar is gone.  The bar where not only did I spent a lot of my teen years at, but where I met my husband, is no more.  The other bar in town, is gone, Hurricane Isabel ripped it to shreds.  The Riverboat was a building built on pylons out in the Potomac River.  

Right now, it's just a driveway and what's left of the pylons.  What was left?  The Lodge or the Eagles.  We headed to the Lodge, with Vodka and Amaretto in hand.

And we drank in abundance.  I hadn't had even a sip of booze since New Year's Eve.  I just don't drink often, these days.  I mean with my bar being gone, Tony and Stacy don't drink, Jo-Anne's pregnant.  Since Tracey and Danny moved halfway across the state, I have no drinking buddies left.

Oh, but we made up for it.  One bottle of Absolut and One bottle of Amaretto later, trashed.  I mean singing, silliness, where the hell's the next bar, drunk.

We closed down the Lodge and headed to the Eagles.  I had one drink there, Tracey didn't quite make that much.  I won't go into it, but we are not as young as we thought we were, are we Tracey?  We left there, got to her Mom's house, and crashed in her van for the night.

At 5:30 AM Sunday morning, she brought me home.  Sunday around noon was not a pretty picture.  No headache or nausea, just cotton mouth to the point that I could have drank the Atlantic and still have been raspy.

I had a meeting at 2:00 PM. A meeting where I had to speak.  Now, I'm the Sahara, plus, I have severe hayfever.  I sounded like Darth Vader on Estrogen, "Luke, I am your Father."  Except well, I wasn't saying those words.  I'm chaplain, y'all.  I have to pray.  

Scary, isn't it?

Smile,
Suzy Smith