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muckefuckWhat if you threw a party and no one came? Worse, what if only one person did?
Well, that's bound to happen when you take the sort of laissez-faire approach to entertaining I do with the Pre-Bear Night Cocktails. It's like my approach to gardening the hellstrip: plant something and if it takes root, great. I'll give it a splash of water now and then to keep it alive, but for the most part I'm hoping to see it survive on its own.
It's still disappointing, though, particularly given that four of our better friends--Big Bones, Miss Cleveland, Diego, and Uncle Betty--said they'd stop by. I don't fault the first two; Miss Cleveland is doing far better than I expected at this stage of his recovery, but he's still got a ways to go. But Diego had e-mailed saying he'd come and the Old Man had made an effort to stay up for him. I was so sure we'd see them I even made a pitcher of ginger-blueberry mojitos. (They were better the next day anyway.)
Everyone else, it seems, was at Midsommarfest (which I don't remember being such a big deal in previous years). So the only person to drop by was our Most Embarrassing Friend. MEF is one of those guys that you want to like because he's so thoughtful and well-mannered--to the point it's kinda annoying. You feel like telling him so, but it would be kicking a puppy--and a well-trained puppy in a world where most of them piddle on your shoes.
We actually had a really nice conversation--for about the first hour-and-a-half. Then, shortly after eleven, when I realised I felt no strong interest in going out to the bar, I just wanted him out of my house so I could go to bed. He's so bad at taking hints, I was ready to give him the bum's rush, but since it was raining (he was completely unprepared, even though the forecast was a near certainty) I ended up grabbing a brolly and walking up over to the taxi stand.
Luckily, with this family vacation starting tomorrow, I've got no time to dwell on my disappointment. Though it does mean, for instance, that I've decided not to e-mail a buddy who lives in Fort Lauderdale after all. The chance of him responding hasn't changed, of course, just my sense of the inevitability of hearing nothing.
Well, that's bound to happen when you take the sort of laissez-faire approach to entertaining I do with the Pre-Bear Night Cocktails. It's like my approach to gardening the hellstrip: plant something and if it takes root, great. I'll give it a splash of water now and then to keep it alive, but for the most part I'm hoping to see it survive on its own.
It's still disappointing, though, particularly given that four of our better friends--Big Bones, Miss Cleveland, Diego, and Uncle Betty--said they'd stop by. I don't fault the first two; Miss Cleveland is doing far better than I expected at this stage of his recovery, but he's still got a ways to go. But Diego had e-mailed saying he'd come and the Old Man had made an effort to stay up for him. I was so sure we'd see them I even made a pitcher of ginger-blueberry mojitos. (They were better the next day anyway.)
Everyone else, it seems, was at Midsommarfest (which I don't remember being such a big deal in previous years). So the only person to drop by was our Most Embarrassing Friend. MEF is one of those guys that you want to like because he's so thoughtful and well-mannered--to the point it's kinda annoying. You feel like telling him so, but it would be kicking a puppy--and a well-trained puppy in a world where most of them piddle on your shoes.
We actually had a really nice conversation--for about the first hour-and-a-half. Then, shortly after eleven, when I realised I felt no strong interest in going out to the bar, I just wanted him out of my house so I could go to bed. He's so bad at taking hints, I was ready to give him the bum's rush, but since it was raining (he was completely unprepared, even though the forecast was a near certainty) I ended up grabbing a brolly and walking up over to the taxi stand.
Luckily, with this family vacation starting tomorrow, I've got no time to dwell on my disappointment. Though it does mean, for instance, that I've decided not to e-mail a buddy who lives in Fort Lauderdale after all. The chance of him responding hasn't changed, of course, just my sense of the inevitability of hearing nothing.