It seems that I am at my most insightful after I’ve had exactly 2.5 glasses of wine. No more, no less.
Before 2.5 glasses of wine, I’m still thinking about things that I should be doing. Like the dishes, or pulling a few weeds outside. Or walking the dogs. At 2 glasses, I’ve made the conscious decision that the world can wait a while, and I won’t lose any points if I just say, “Fuck it” for the day. At the 2 glass mark, I have already decided that if I had thought about going anywhere, I won’t be doing it that day. At least, not in my car, and definitely not with me driving. I’m old, but it didn’t take but that last DUI to make me mend the error of my ways in regards to drinking and driving. Nope, the world will NEVER have to worry about me being on the roads if I’ve even thought about a drink. If there was one thing that I did learn in the “drunk” class that I had to attend because of my poor judgement/bad luck that night in 2007, it’s that if I’m not going to change my drinking habits (and I most definitely am NOT) then I should choose to change my driving habits (that’s an easy one). If I don’t have a designated driver for the night….then I do my drinking at home.
So anyway, back to that second glass of wine. Things look different than they did before I picked up the glass. From where I go at this point is strictly determined by what my head decides to wrap its little grey matter around. As you may be able to tell, I’ve decided today that it would be about that determining process. See? if I can still type words like these, it’s clearly before my cutoff.
I was sitting on the carport watching these little solar-powered flowers.
They happily wave back and forth with not a care in the world.
Then there’s my pigeon, Maynard.
He’s oblivious to the danger he could be in by perching on my husband’s Harley mirror. But that’s just the way he rolls. I’ve now been relegated to the 4 o’clock stop on his travels now. I suppose he has forgotten that if I hadn’t held up traffic that was trying to get onto southbound I-75 that day back in April to pick his little naked, skinned-up body off the road from where he had fallen out of his nest in the bottom of the overpass. Sure, all the old ladies on the street love him. They all feed him and he walks flat-footed beside them and their dogs as they go up and down the street. I have actually had a couple of them come and show me the videos on their phones that they’ve taken of this crazy pigeon walking down the street with them. It’s as though they are in competition now. I have even heard one of the ladies brag about how much time he stays at her place eating the seeds and such that she puts out for him. One old guy calls him the “street mascot” now. Oh brother.
Today, it was at the 2.5 glass mark that I decided to come in and write this blog post. Not too much going on. I’ve declared that I would not be studying (although I need to) and dinner is already on the stove (the old man can get himself a bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce I’m pretty sure) and I can hear the afternoon thunderstorms rolling in.
Well, it’s time for a refill. I don’t know where I’ll go with my thoughts after this. Hopefully, no place dark…..LOL Not me.