Dave & Sugar

I can remember a time when Sunday afternoons meant afternoons on Midtown restaurant patios, usually with a vodka or tequila drink cold in my hands, and 2 or 3 of my closest friends. On a bad weekend, it would mean an afternoon with some guys that I didn't know really well, but I was trying to increase my circle of friends so I would accept an invitation from 2 friends to join their party. Or on a really bad weekend, it would rain and Red and I would shop "the miracle mile" of stores like Big Lots and Stein Mart on a particular stretch.

The best lesbian in the whole world, G, would often join the patio's and have one or two beers. Sometimes we would go to the second Mexican restaurant and bemoan the fact that Molly's does not have a patio, because the food at the second Mexican restaurant sucks, but the patio's great and the margaritas are cold.

On non-drinking days, we discovered a place that has a wonderful little singer that writes her own songs, and her music goes well with tea served with a slice of lime.

Today? Today my Sunday consisted of me wearing my slip on Wolverine boots, my "work" jeans, and shoveling horse manure into what I've claimed as "my" flower bed. So, there I am, shoveling horse manure from a pile onto a flat bed trailer, tossing it into the flower bed from there, and watching MyFella run the tiller. We put in a lot of pine ash and horse manure, and tilled it up good so the dirt will be ready for the plants. What plants, I don't really know yet.

Saturday I sat outside for a bit watching MyFella burn huge piles of pine needles down (which later went into the flower bed). Smoke was in the air, I was sitting under a tree, and a cool breeze was in the air.

I'm not sure exactly when my Sundays changed. I can't honestly say I love them now more than I love the other way. But I can say I love them just as much.

I probably need to keep vodka on hand up here, and find a job up here, that way I can have the work day, the vodka patio and not have to drive back.

That's what I'll do.