another night in a small colorado town

i am currently in fight mode with my woman, she is surfing the red tide and has become a vile evil monster, as she does for one week each month.  seriously, she is completely and totally Mr Hyde, compared to her usual mild mannered and flowery happy Dr. Jekyll.   it started last night, i said something innocuous, she got offended and upset and decided to leave.  i eagerly let her go, and probably won't actually converse with her for a few days, when the real her returns.

as a result, i had nothing to do this evening.  no plans. there is a festival afoot in the town, turning a quiet boring town into a chaotic ground zero of smells and sounds and various people of all shapes, mostly pear shapes, but all shapes, promenading up and down the street.  there is excitement in the air, as well as the smell of deep fryer oil and shitty cologne.

i started drinking at work when old flame, well, not really a flame, more of a potential spark that never happened, came in to the shop to introduce her two friends from the big city over the hill who came to visit for no apparent reason.  they seemed cool and hip in a "we aren't really trying, we are just naturally cool and hip even though we are really trying not to try" sort of way. they left and then returned and invited me for a game of scrabble later in the evening.   i took it the old flame wanted to hang out and talk to me or some such nonsense.  having absolutely nothing better to do, i agreed.

after a few beers, i wandered across the street to get some books signed and hear an author read and speak. he is a big deal in many small circles, and while he was vastly interesting and entertaining, i could only take so much before i quietly slipped out.  even though the streets were packed, the place was rather empty.  turns out not the most literate crowd comes to this sort of two day shindig.  they are more interested in oversized turkey legs and funnel cakes.

i headed over to the small shop to play some scrabble and chat and laugh it up with my friend and her cool hip friends.  in the back of the shop was a fierce scrabble game afoot, the old flame, who had been sort of flirty, was there, as was her current legal husband who detests me and is jealous of me even though nothing ever happened between us and they are sort of split but still living together.  a very very very very strange situation.   i was invited to sit in and finish the hand she had while she tended to her shop, making sure to never step near me or actually speak to me.   it was me, another gal, and her two friends, drinking and playing scrabble in a small shop while there was a festival raging outside.

"so, what do you do when you aren't playing scrabble in small colorado towns?" i asked the tragically hip couple.  the lady answered first with a modest "i am a social worker."  i explained i am a very anti social worker, causing more missed sales and unhappy customers than not.

i told them of my idea for a t-shirt about life's "ups and downs" with a picture of a UPS truck and a guy with Downs syndrome on it.  we traded off color jokes and witty wordplay, we got along famously, seriously, truly, it was good.  then they did that thing were couples keep repeating some hilarious phrase to each other as an inside joke, repeating a funny joke or phrase over and over instead of having any conversation with others.  for them it was a line from Van Morrison's ringworm, from his Contractual Obligation album.   as an aside, i fucking hate Van Morrison.   my beer was finished, the game was finished, i no longer wanted to hang out, and i have to work tomorrow, so i thanked everyone, said goodbyes, and rode my bike home in the wonderful night air.

now, here i am with a glass of wine, almost finished.  i shall down the glass, shut off the computer, and go to sleep.  tomorrow, it all starts again.

another night in a small colorado town.