December 28, 2006 Issue

My goodness, I think I might be impaired due to excessive alcohol consumption — a condition I don’t often find myself in, but it is a nice change of pace for a Cokeaholic. The occasion was the seasonal closing of the Bay Cafe.

I hesitate to mention the name of the establishment as they get plenty of free ink from Bill Campbell and still won’t unglue those purse strings and throw us a few advertising dollars — but be that as it may, it was a wonderful day. First of all, the day was glorious. One of those days that reminds us why we live here. How can you complain about a day in late December when you can wear sandals and have to move because the sun is directly in your face? A day where dancing on the deck is almost mandatory, and the water is soothing to look at and the company civil and slightly off kilter. Oy vey!

Apparently this establishment closes every year for several weeks while the owners journey to Europe. One year they got robbed of their considerable wine and fine food inventory, so they decided to invite the regulars to empty the larders before they departed. At so much a head, revelers were invited to order anything from the menu and the wine bottles just kept on coming. I have no idea what I was drinking, except it was red and quite tasty. I laughed. I satirized. I pontificated. I met some nice people and I danced with a hot young thing. Holy crap — a memorable afternoon!

Everyone was a winner today. I found I couldn’t quite eat all of my steak so Snazzy got quite a nice doggy treat when I got home. I’m sure I was in no condition to drive — something I wouldn’t recommend and something I never do, but thankfully I live close by, but that’s no excuse. Still and all, I should have called a cab.

This is exactly the kind of thing I should do more often, as I find myself becoming more and more inclined to stay home. I had to literally make myself go and I only went because I had said I would. My druthers would have been to stay home and take a nap, but I’m so glad I take my obligations seriously. I have plenty of time to rest after I’m dead and gone and once I committed to going and actually got there, I was energized. Funny how that works and I have to remember that too. One of my resolutions for next year is to accept every single social invitation that I can and go even if I’m tired. If the occasion is any good at all, I won’t be tired long once I get there.

More on the next to the next to the next to the last Sunday of 2006 on the morrow.

Good intentions aside, it is now a week later and I’m impressed I was able to write that succinctly when clearly under the influence of the grape. Maybe that’s why F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and those of that ilk were so successful as writers. They poured fluid into their glasses; the words flowed onto the page and competent editors saved their reputations. Alas, I had to edit myself and aside from some poor typing which created some creatively spelled words, I didn’t have to change a thing. Either that means I wasn’t really impaired or there is little difference in my abilities whether drinking or not. Scary thought that.

It’s that time of year when we take a one issue hiatus and try to regroup for the new year. Typically I’m rushing off some place for some rest and recreation, but this year I’m resting and recreating at home. It is my plan to read a lot of books, see a lot of movies, take many naps, put the finishing touches on my new home (just how do you hang art from concrete walls anyhow?) and try to think of ways to improve our publication.

As always, I’m aided and abetted by the superior skill and dedication of writers Breanne Boland, Bill Campbell, Bruce Collier, John Ledbetter, Chris Manson, Rawlins McKinney, and Charles Morgan. I may steer the ship, but they provide the power and I couldn’t do it without them.

Happy New Year, y’all.

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