This weekend was most disconcerting. I got so much sleep it was nearly absurd, and had a lot of fun, considering the circumstances. If you’ll recall, last Wednesday heralded the beginning of my thoroughly modern convalescence, which is to say, continuation of the rat-race albeit medicated. I haven’t had a drop of liquor, wine or beer since my diagnosis, and yet have been utterly loopy due to hydrocodone-based cough-suppressant. Meanwhile, my respiratory bothers are in full retreat in the face of carpet-bombing by fancy, up-to-the-minute, semi-sythetic macrolides in a five day dose that stays in the system for ten days. The only problem I’ve experienced with said regimen is extreme semi-conscious crankiness where Orpheus’ nighttime habits are concerned. Apparently, on Saturday night I was foul-mouthed in my sleep when I wanted him to turn down ‘Drawn Together’ on his computer, and pushed him off the bed with my feet when he dared to snuggle me.
Friday was, perhaps, the oddest day of all. I was feeling done-in, and O. called to see if I wanted to hang out with Basso. Fortunately, Orpheus worked until 8 PM, so I had plenty of time to nap beforehand. We met downtown after O. and I had dinner at a kind of cruddy Italian place frequented by poor students which serves huge salads. We ended up going back to my place, and snuggling like warm puppies all night long. Basso really wanted to doink, but neither Orpheus nor I were feeling any sort of love that night, as we were both so overstretched from last week’s exertions. So, we just ended up making breakfast together and snuggling in a pile for a good bit of the next morning, then we dropped him off at a friend’s place, where I’d assume he went for the sex he’d tried to source from us. At four, we went over to BakedAlaska’s apartment to visit he, his wife QuakerNoOats, and their daughter, EvilGenius. I’ve talked about them before. They are my only close friends with a living, breathing child for whom they’d consider letting me baby-sit. BakedAlaska is named thusly not because he likes the green weed, but because his parents were hippie druggies from way back who raised he and his older brother in a crack-house, then slowly weaned themselves back to whacky-tabaccey only. In Anchorage. QuakerNoOats is so as she is 1) a Quaker (and the most fascinatingly non-judgemental religious person I’ve ever met,) and 2) is allergic to almost everything under the face of the sun, including oats. EvilGenius? More on that in a bit.
They brought Orpheus and I over in order to slake their joint lust for adult contact. Because EvilGenius is freakishly intelligent, she is commensurately demanding of time and attention. Add this to her age of one and a half years, and you get the basic idea. This problem, they figured they’d throw O. at, since he is a bit younger, has less in common with them than I, and has experience working with children. I was to cook dinner after shopping with BakedAK on his docket so as to pick ingredients that wouldn’t kill QuakerNoOats. We settled on fresh pork loin stuffed with chives, dark sweet cherry, black walnut and loganberries (they look like raspberries, but are very tart). I also dumped quite a bit of the fruit into a pan with two tablespoons of olive oil, and over a quarter cup of dextrose, which is a super-sweet substitute for beet sugar, which QNO is allergic to. I’d have used honey if given a choice. We butchered the loin so it unrolled lengthwise into a good foot-wide blanket of meat, stuffed it, tied it in a roulade, then browned it on all sides. We then placed it in a 375F oven, with part of the cherry/berry/walnut reduction over it as a glaze, until the internal temp. was 155F. After letting it sit for juice redistribution, we cut the ties and sliced the roulade into tournedos. The remaining glaze, further thickened on the stovetop, was served over top of said tournedos. The rest of the evening, like dinner, was delicious.
EvilGenius took to O. right away, and took a bit longer to warm up to me. I was the first person to see her aside from her parents and hospital staff, as their family is all in Alaska. It was neat to be there and interact with her, as she’s just picked up basic speech, and exited screeching baby phase. Everybody had a grand time, and though the original plan called for movie rental, we just ended up googling over the baby all night long. The whole rigamarole had me thinking most warm and wholesome thoughts about Orpheus. Rather more warm and wholesome that either of us is ready for, yet. But it was nice to borrow the glow for an evening, and pretend to have a family, even if I probably never will have one of my own. It was nice to feel that way about O. in a way that was deeply satisfying albeit a bit embarrassing, too. Perhaps embarrassing because I know it’s far too early to think thusly, perhaps just out of queer propriety. I mean, aren’t fun-bois too busy having sex and popping pills to have kids? Still, it was nice, just the same.
Sunday was perhaps the most surreal day of all. I had an experiment of attempting to live without the vaunted cough-syrup, and it went rather well with the aid of mucinex. I bought a new 11.5” LeCreuset frying pan, which is the last you’ll hear of it until tonight (its’ maiden voyage). We had a nap, a rousing little dinner, and a hard and fast doink, then got dolled up and went to the Jens Leckman (sp?) concert on campus at the UW. Unfortunately, nightfall and thickening mucous necessitated the lowering of the hydrocodone veil. We took Orpheus’ little sister along to see Jens, and had a grand time. The show was at the old music hall, which is a converted church that served as the university’s first school of music and performance space. The opening “band” were the HoneyDrops, or, in this case, the HoneyDrop, a Swedish group represented by only one of their members, and his Mac. He simply sang, backed by the recordings his band had sent him with, holding Jens’ hollow-bodied guitar as a prop. Afterwards, when the main show came on stage, energy built quickly, and the show was fairly short. Everyone left with a light, happy look on their faces, and a bounce that had no right to be in their steps, at 10:30 PM on a Sunday.
All in all, a really cool weekend. I just wish that I could have forgone the cough-syrup for most of it. I’ve titled the post after a lovely bumper-sticker that I saw today while depositing my check at the bank, amongst other errands… Wish me luck with the LeCreuset, and bon appetite, mes enfants!
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