vodka and other curatives

Some updates:

• T-Mec is now sans tube-in-face, and we’re all happier for it. My regular vet didn’t even charge me to take it out, even though he wasn’t the one who put it in. I have a long list of kindnesses I need to pay forward.

• Many of the said kindnesses were committed by AK, including hand holding, grocery shopping, and administration of vodka when I was so crazy with cramps last night that I was just sort of rolling around moaning. Vodka both tastes and functions like medicine.

• My book club likes poetry. I think that makes them particularly kickass as book clubs go.

• But because of the aforementioned cramps, I missed some other good poetry: Steven Reigns’ reading of his new book Inheritance. When I get a chance to read it, I’ll let you know all about it, but if you want to beat me to the punch, go here.

• I suck at bowling, go kart racing and probably all other indoor sports. AK came in third Saturday at Kimberly’s birthday party, and proudly wore her “Winner” medal (which, actually, we all got, given that the track caters to kids and honors participation). “How did I look out there?” she asked after the rematch, which I watched from the sidelines. “Like lightning,” I said. “Greased lightning.” “Shut up,” she said. Appropriately, birthday girl Kim came in first.

• But I’m pretty good at Scattergories. Which, I know, is kind of nineties, but since I also like swing dancing and wearing many small earrings, I guess the nineties are my era.