Just over a month until Tom comes home. I’m so excited as I’m tired of this whole “fortress of one” thing.
When Tom and I are in our bed together he says I steal all the space in the bed. He says this is because I’m Mexican and am used to jumping borders. I just like to cuddle but Tom says this is incorrect, he doesn’t believe I’m a cuddler, he says I’m just attempting to slowly pushing him off the bed. He says he pictures me sleeping like a starfish since I have the bed to myself, stretching out all my limbs until I encompass almost every inch of space my body can possibly spread to. I tell him he’s wrong, that I actually only ever sleep just on my side of the bed. But he doesn’t believe me. I’d say that man doesn’t believe about 75% of the things I say. To be fair, probably a good percentage of what I say is bullshit so I can’t really get too mad at him.
I am counting down the days until that man gets home and I have someone to push off the bed again.
This past weekend was really nice. A friend of mine, a dude who works with Tom, messaged me on Friday and asked if I’d be interested in going to an Alanis Morissette concert with him. He said he’d pay for the tickets if I drove. I didn’t have anything going on over the weekend, I enjoy this friend’s company, and though I haven’t listened to Alanis Morissette since I was a teenager (you could hardly go anywhere during a portion of the 90’s without hearing a song from Jagged Little Pill playing) I was a fan at one point so I figured “What the hell, why not?”
So we drove 3 hours south to the Coromandel Peninsula as the concert was in a little town called Whitianga. Well, my friend mostly drove, so really he bought the tickets AND did 75% of the driving, I just provided the car. I’m sneaky like that.
The concert was just about the whitest and most middle-aged thing I’ve done yet in my half-white and newly middle-aged life. And it was a lot of fun.
The weather was beautiful, Alanis put on a decent show, my friend and I sat on lawn chairs and chatted. He’s a sharp-tongued British bloke who likes to make fun of his friends but does so in an endearing way and he’s intelligent with lots to say. We get along well.
Electric Light Orchestra head-lined, and opened with “Evil Woman” which I thought until just a few years ago was actually called “Medieval Woman”. I didn’t think I knew any of ELO’s songs but it turns out I recognized a ton. They put on a good show, better than Alanis actually, but the best part about it was watching all the people around us. It was like I was in the middle of a real-life “White People Dancing” Youtube video. It was awesome and highly entertaining to watch. Before you go thinking I’m on a high-horse, I’m not. I did a bit of hip-swinging myself and I’m sure if anyone recorded me the video would be titled, “The Only Mexican In The World Who Can’t Move Her Hips.”
On the way home my data was out and the only Spotify playlist which would work had already been played a few times so my friend started singing. He’s got a pretty damn good voice too and knows a lot of lyrics. I sang along with him to a few Van Morrison songs… some Elton John. And I sang a few songs myself. I was just getting over being sick, and the roads we walked to and from the concert were pretty damn dusty, so by the time we were in the car my voice was really starting to die.
So what did I do? Sing Janis Joplin songs of course. I really felt like I killed “Mercedes Benz”.
I woke up the next day with a sore throat and hardly any voice and today I still sound like a chain-smoking truck stop waitress with laryngitis.
I’ve got to do some coursework now but I’ll leave you with this one last anecdote….
The other night I was roasting chickpeas for dinner and I could hear them in the oven popping away like little corn kernels so I pulled the pan out and left it on the stove while I was chopping veggies. And a chickpea popped and flew out of the pan and pegged me right in my temple. I still have a little burn spot on the side of my head. What if I’d been facing the stove when that chickpea went crazy? It could have gotten me in the EYE. What if it burned through my retina and got into my BRAIN?
We’ll just add this to the list of possible ways I could die without Tom around….death by chickpea.
He better hurry home, that list is three strong now and growing all the time.