2006-07-24 - 5:37 p.m.

Imagine...spending two weeks planning and gathering and obsessing about a party. Scrubbing your house for days, making food and then more and more food. Going to the grocery store more times in a week than you do in a month to get more food, more beer, more wine. Then the day arrives and your village puts on it's fiesta hat and gets down with it. Firecrackers, big, showey explosions that leave the air thick with blue-grey smoke and the smell of the fourth of July. A parade down the road, loud and colorful, gigantes. A band is unpacking and setting up on the stage that someone has assembled directly in front of your front door. There are beer stands up and down your street, people milling about. You suddenly have a yard full of people, all the food is out, the beer is cold, the wine is on ice. You are talking to people, mostly just one person that you find intriguing, but really trying to make an effort to talk to everyone. You have a couple beers over the course of the afternoon, by 11 in the evening when the band is doing their initial sound checks you have had two beers and a glass of wine. Not enough to put you in any sort of party mood, but enough to ease things just a little. So you are being social. And people are enjoying themselves. Things are getting really loud now...the band starts up and there are hundreds of people in front of your house, dancing and yelling. Inches from your bedroom window in fact. Hundreds of people and a live band whose music you can hear in the next town over. And imagine...all this stuff going on, all this build up to this night...and you go upstairs to check on your cats and you FALL ASLEEP. And sleep through not just four hours of a live band outside your window and hundreds of people...but you also sleep through the discomobil that starts up in the wee hours of the morning...again, right outside your window. People dancing, screaming, breaking things and club music pounding through your walls, shaking things, bleating through everything. And you sleep. RIGHT. THROUGH. THE. NIGHT.


That's what I did.

And I was slighty euphoric yesterday because I woke up feeling great while everyone else was sludging around. Slightly euphoric because I made it through this hell party without any stress. And it's OVER. And I will probably never have to deal with it again (unless we are still here next year). And I am thrilled.


Sad I made the appointment to get Squishy Cat's teeth taken out. August fourth. This is terrible. Terrible. Terrible. But I just can't let him suffer like this anymore and nothing I come up with to help him helps him. So...the teeth it is. I hope that everything I have read and heard is true. That it isn't a long recovery (my vet says he should be eating the next day) and that he won't notice that most of his teeth are gone. And most importantly, that he stops having these flare ups of mouth ulcers.

It is terribly hot right now. Typing is making me sweat.

Hey, remember when I slept through the festa major? That was funny.


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