Hookahs, Grand Theft Auto and Coming Out

Thank God I kept my lifeguard hat stashed handily; I've needed it lately. Treading water has become the name of the game. I never was very good at it. I'm getting better now.

Friday, before the grand theft auto I will soon detail, we had dinner with our Pretty Couple Friends from church. They are, of course, far more than pretty, but at first blush that is certainly their defining characteristic. They are Lebanese, smart, fun, but most noticeably, lovely. After dinner, they introduced us to Turkish coffee in cheetah print demi-tasses. And then, the hookah. I disclaimed that the only thing I had ever smoked was a Swisher Sweet, which didn't bode well. The first time I tried it, there was no smoke. The next few times, I coughed. Everyone else laughed. But it was fun to say, "I smoked a hookah," when asked how my weekend was.

The week of deadlines took its toll, spilling into the weekend, but it passed and I was lauded. But moving the miscellaneous from the apartment to The Home also took all weekend, and the organization process is taking even longer. I haven't needed most of these things in months-- where do I put them now?

In between the thinking about work, heavy lifting and actual working, my red car disappeared. Due to a cryptic letter I received from the MVA referencing mysterious (and, to my knowledge, non existent) outstanding obligations, I assumed the car had been erroneously towed. Apparently, not so. I reported it stolen Monday afternoon and so far, no news. I'm tooling around in a silver Neon. Please, honk if you love Enterprise. The new car (which I have taken to calling "Clarice," because I involuntarily say, "hello" in the exact same manner as Hannibal Lecter every time I see a TSX on the road) will be here Friday, along with The Boy's father, The Stepmother, and sister. Tomorrow, Amber and her toddler arrive, followed by Tara. Saturday I'll be showered. If I can make it that far.

Tonight, after two days of booth standing in a baggy blue shirt, I stumbled to class on sore feet, despite my Aerosoles. There, I was workshpped. And outed. Who knew that searching for "Mosotos" would lead directly to this old thing? Damn Google. So, if any are visiting by way of Hopkins, welcome. Feel free to look around. We are always happy to have new crickets.