Skatchina's Birthday And Miroslav Holub

The Fiery One doesn’t get back from his work trip until Tuesday, so I have spent the majority of this weekend alone. He’s gone so much of the time now that I am getting quite used to spending most of my time alone. Being alone is actually kind of habitual for me. I can spend days puttering around the house without once thinking of calling anyone to do anything. In some ways this isn’t very healthy, because sometimes the Fiery One will get back from a trip, and when he asks me to fill him in on what went on while he was away, it suddenly hits me that I had maybe three conversations outside of work the whole time he was gone. Skatchina’s always telling me every time I see her that I should give her a call...

That reminds me. I didn’t spend the whole weekend alone this time. It was Skatchina’s birthday celebration on Friday night. We went to her favourite brew pub and fed her a disgusting mix of shots and beer. She did an amazing job keeping herself upright and speaking coherently considering the Jaggermeister, Wild Turkey, Jim Beam, Sour Puss and whatever else we evil ones bought for her. Actually, I think it was me that got the Wild Turkey, because Skatchina was wise enough to know when to call it quits.

Did I mention that she’s old? No, I’m kidding. She just a few months older than me. She’s not old, and I’m not old, and Friday and P aren’t old, but everyone else that was there were doing their best impressions of the elderly. It was somebody’s birthday, for christ’s sake! They checked their watches, they yawned, they talked about how work made them tired, they rubbed each other’s backs in that circular way that helps babies burp. I have nothing against any of them, in fact I like all of them quite a bit, but they may as well have been trading their denturists’ business cards for all the up-and-at-‘em they had going on on Friday night.

I really do have to temper that by telling you that I started out slowly myself on Friday night. I have had ear problems lately that occasionally rob me of a good portion of my hearing, and I had compounded the problem earlier that evening by getting water in my ears while I was in the bathtub. For the first hour, I mostly sat quietly and got the gist of conversations through a combination of muffled tones and vibrations and some lip reading. It’s really hard to catch names that way, so I didn’t catch most of the proper nouns. I probably was pulling a pretty mean crone impression myself for a while there. After repeatedly sticking my finger in my ear to create pressure and pulling it out, I managed to attain a level of hearing that allowed me to participate in conversation. The second pint of beer helped, too.

Skatchina, Friday, P, and I did the proper birthday thing and stuck it out until well after 1:00 am, and Skatchina amazingly only slurred once or twice. Since Friday night was not her actual birthday and today is her actual birthday – HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SKATCHINA!


Poetry for the people:

"The Rampage" by Miroslav Holub.


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Elan Morganlinks, miscellanyComment