I Need You to Tell Me...Child Be Still

"Where does everybody go when they go?
They go so fast, I don't think they know
We hate so fast and we love too slow
London, I think we got a problem"

• I will eventually move on from my soundtrack of 2009.
• I will try to be still sometimes.
• I will take the stairs.
• I will learn to appreciate that I am beautiful.
• I will still facebook, text, and email like a mad woman, but I will also call more.
• I will be grateful every day that my body can run fast; I will run like my life depends on it.
• I will loudly listen to music.
• I will flirt with reckless abandon.
• I will be honest and make no justifications.
  
• I will read as if my life depends on it.
  
• I will find ways to be on airplanes more often.
• I will organize my life differently. Not rearrange my old life, but organize the one handed to me...the one I earned.
• I will look to be loved in unexpected places and welcome it when it hits me.
• I will be fine after I scream.
• I will be appreciative of my people.
• I will work hard and not take anyone down in the process.
  
• I will welcome and embrace 'it' when it happens...as if my life depends on it.

"Help me let go of the chaos around me
The devil that hounds me, I need you to tell me
Child, be still."

The First Day of Christmas

I woke up at 3a this morning with a splitting headache and no idea where I was. Once I figured out the where, I tried concentrating on the how. That proved pointless, so I fell back to sleep instead.

Yes, my first day of Christmas had happened. I was home in Wisconsin to spend a week with the family, and all the delightful ridiculousness that they have to offer. And of course I was already suffering for it.

As the story goes, I basically needed to be carried to bed. By my father. Now, another person might be completely mortified by this; I of course think it is hysterical. Apparently I did last night too, as my mom says, "I went laughing all the way".

So let's back up a bit. I landed in Appleton-ton around 11a and was whisked around the area by my dad. We ran errands and had lunch, and just had a nice time catching up. Then home to spend a few hours with my mom before my siblings and their kids descended.

Instead of a nap, I ran a couple miles on their treadmill. That may have been grave mistake number one. You see, I had only slept for about 90 minutes the evening before. Of course I was unconscious for both my flights, but the distance from Raleigh doesn't provide a great opportunity to actually "sleep". With that said, I should have napped. I should have napped. I should have napped.

By 7p, all but one of my fabulous siblings were over. We drank, we ate, we laughed, we talked about my crazy life, and then we drank some more. We started with the requisite old fashioneds and then evolved into the Goose. There is at least one more grave error in here somewhere.

Fast forward...I am running through the cold...alone...from my brother's house. Now curled up in a chair with a glass of wine by my side (most grave of the grave mistakes), and completely asleep. I am told that even tickling didn't make me move, so my dad basically just hauled me up out of the chair and put my laughing, smiling, laughing self to bed.

When I awoke at 3a, I seriously had no idea where I was. For starters I was on the wrong side of the bed, I was surrounded by pillows and a stuffed scary Santa Claus, and I was hot. Then panicked. Then I simply started laughing again and figured someone dear to me would fill me in during the daylight.

Thanks family. Christmas 2009 has officially, delightfully, painfully, begun.

Slice me in Half

Is it fine to steal the words and feelings that are evoked from your friends and call them your own? Let's just say...yes. Yes, it is. Ah, the amazing power of friends in faraway places, and the freaking annoying spirit of Christmas. Makes my judgement a little less clear and my person a little more visceral.

I am coming off the heels of some amazing days, and I keep catching myself being a little happy, drunk, and sentimental. Possibly due to the upcoming holiday, perhaps leftover festive debauchery, or probably some combination which also includes a touch of remorse and nostalgia.

My dearest and "secret" friend in the Philippines sent me an email that was part update and part reminiscent. It sent me into simultaneous laughter and hysterical tears as it made me miss her painfully and wish for things I am not certain I want.

I won't divulge all our secrets but here are some passages that hit me hardest. I apologize in advance if she wants me to be less transparent, but the images were just too "present" not to share. It thrust me back into my former life like a sudden punch to the sternum.

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I am keeping myself awake for the next few hours so that I can sleep at the appropriate time, so that I can wake up when I'm supposed to. (You remember how that works.)

Last night, I had dinner with friends. We laughed so much, the kind that catches you by surprise and slices you in half. We went to this old house converted to a restaurant in Quezon City, alien territory. You would have liked it, it was full of kitchy Filipino mementos from the 1940's and paintings by local artists. I woke up this morning still chuckling. Shaking my head over how crazy my life is now and how crazy my friends have always been.

My dad got a book published - a collection of poetry. It is disturbingly brilliant and profound. I have a copy for you. You will get it when I see you next.

I ended up sorting through drawers and found your name plate, the one my team had stolen from your former office and given me.

I'm babbling, I know. I guess these are random things I would tell you if you were sitting next to me and we were having a bottle (or three) of wine. I just wanted to drop you a note to tell you that you are missed and thought of often.
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I have had more than a few moments lately where laughter has "sliced me in half". I am so grateful for those people than have that affect on me. I am also grateful to those that can make my heart skip...those across the country, around the world, and more than a few right here in my own city.

Let the slicing commence.

Simple Pleasures

Earlier this week I was in a video store. I am sure this doesn't seem very noteworthy, but I must admit that I couldn't recall the last time I had been in one. Between PPV, DVR and that great thing called Redbox, I have gotten my movie fixes elsewhere.

That night though, the person I was with wanted to introduce me to a silly film that I had never seen before...A Knight's Tale. Being that it was over seven years old, we couldn't easy locate it through our normal channels, so we had to go "old school". We used his iPhone to find the nearest video store and on we went.

I must admit that I loved this place. It is no-nonsense, has a great staff, is within walking distance to my house, and is completely unpretentious. I've already been back to pick up new movies.

There was something so wonderful about wandering around the store that night laughing at things on the shelves and quizzing each other about things we'd seen. And I must admit that A Knight's Tale made me laugh...several times. It was a simple night; a delightful night.

Back to the Basics

"What is more basic than the need to be known? It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, this knowing". In the book Her Fearful Symmetry, a central character gives himself over completely to this basic knowing. I read this passage, this simple sentence, more than a week ago. It resonated with me so much that I earmarked the page and referred back to it often.

Dictionary.com defines "known" as:

1. to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty
2. to have established or fixed in the mind or memory
3. to be cognizant or aware of
4. be acquainted with, as by sight or experience
5. to understand from experience or attainment
6. to be able to distinguish, as one from another
7. Archaic. to have sexual intercourse with.

This is what I am looking for. The knowing. For me at this moment, it doesn't mean commitment, it doesn't require a path, it isn't what I've had and it is what I want. I want to be known. I want someone that is aware, is perceptive, is cognizant of me always. That gets me without any explanation, apology, or justification. Is pleased to be in my presence and looks forward to the next experience.

At 3.38am this morning I received a phone call. Of course I was awake. (Even if I hadn't been at work, the chances are great that I would still have been conscious.) The call was from a dear friend of mine that was celebrating her birthday on the West Coast and had also just got engaged. This girl deserves every bit of happiness that moment provided her and I was so thrilled to spend part of that with her. She had just had her known validated. She is someone that I love unconditionally and the thought of her so happy has brought me to giddy tears several times today.

Oddly enough I had been out earlier last night with good friends and a wonderful man to see Phantom of the Opera. That production is all about the "knowing" of someone, and the deep and sometimes painful understanding that goes with it.

Congratulations Amy. No one deserves to be known more than you.

Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum...

I think this holiday season is going to be OK. Maybe more than OK, maybe just fine. Perhaps even freaking awesome. Earlier this year I was seriously apprehensive about the jolly, holly season. I thought I'd be miserable and all Scrooge-like once Thanksgiving came and turned into Christmas and New Years. The concept of parties and social engagements gave me panic attacks (let's not forget Bernie), and the idea of being joyful seemed far, far, away.

Oh thank goodness I was wrong. Thanksgiving week allowed me to regress...I went out, I drank, I laughed, I ate, I spent time with my favorite boys, I ran, I met new people, and I simply lived. I lived A LOT. I don't know that I will ever think of Thanksgiving the same way again. In fact, I know I won't.

Last weekend I attended a holiday party with some delightful friends. Apart from the near fist-fight that darling Brad and I almost got into over the music, the evening was pure fabulousness. Fabulous with a side of glitter. You know I enjoy myself wholly when I end up engaging in frivolous kleptomania. Thank you boys for letting me steal your duckie.

The next morning I felt INCREDIBLE. I think happiness somehow conquered the cheap wine hangover that seemed impossible to avoid the night before. No one else seemed to feel the same, so I tackled the Farmer's Market solo and returned victorious with a little tree and a wreath. A trip to the storage shed to retrieve ornaments meant that Christmas descended upon my house. Happily.


On Friday I am seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time with wonderful people. I have a date for the holiday party next week. I am going home for Christmas to see my incredible family and friends. God, how I have missed you all. I might even go out, out, out for New Year's. Optimistically, I already have the rocking dress. In a size 6, I might add.This year needs to end, and it is looking to end well. Scrooge has nothing on me.

When Two is Better than One

Last month my doppelganger came to visit. When my sister Elizabeth and I get together...all bets are off, and I wouldn't want it any other way. My ab muscles usually ache for a week after she leaves.

We started off the weekend by stocking up at the ABC and doing a little grocery shopping. Elizabeth was making her world-famous tater tot casserole for my friends that evening and we had some non-healthy ingredients to buy.

As we were standing in the wine aisle trying to determine what vintage goes best with tots, a man walks up to us and says, "You girls should call me if you want to give your husbands some holiday treats". He then handed Elizabeth his card and slowly backed away dumbfounded as we basically collapsed into the aisle laughing hysterically. Turns out he is a chef and does in-home cooking classes. We of course couldn't get over the husbands...and treats part. Perhaps another year...

I don't think I stopped laughing from there on in. The tater tot dinner party was a smashing success and the pot was licked clean by many.


Elizabeth woke up the next morning painfully hungover asking, "Why am I not wearing any pants? WHERE ARE MY PANTS? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PANTS?" I believe it was the vodka and Glogg that stole her pants....or the wine...or the beer, or the oh...the options...

One of the weird things we share is the swelling of our fingers when we drink. Couple that with a 3-mile walk around Lake Johnson and Elizabeth had the biggest man-hands ever. We completely destroyed the peace and tranquility of the woods by her running towards me with her arms outstretched and screaming, "Would you like me to open your jar of pickles?". Frankenstein stay back, back I say!

As with every trip together, people assume we are twins. Not sure how happy Elizabeth is with being compared to her 37 year-old sister, but I certainly take it as a great compliment.

The twin thing takes on a very different connotation when it is recognized by a funny middle-aged woman who can't stop remarking at how much we look alike, than it does when it comes from a couple leering college students. Both entertaining, but for very different reasons.

We were sitting at a cafe one afternoon trying to clear our heads when a couple boys walked out of the restaurant and straight up to our table. One looked at us, smiled, and simply said, "YUM" and then walked away. We laughed until Elizabeth snorted. Let the day begin again.

There are so many more stories to tell, but some must remain between the doppelganger and I. She says she wants to return in January and this make me oh so happy. I have many jars of pickles that need to be opened, and pants that need to be found.

It's Good to be Loved

Even with this tumultuous 2009, I have so much to be thankful for. I am in the best shape of my life, I have a great job, my dog is cancer-free, my family is fabulous, and my friends love me.

They proved (yet again) just how much they loved me over the Thanksgiving weekend. They came, they cleaned, they fixed, they sawed, they hauled.

Michael started working on the kitchen backsplash Thursday and had all the tile up by the time I returned home. On Saturday he returned for grout and the installation of the new front storm door.

Both turned out beautifully.

That afternoon our amazing friends came over to help remove the waist-deep leaves from my backyard. OK - maybe not waist-deep, but all those oak trees made quite a mess! Todd had the leaf blower on full power, while Rob raked and I hauled. We managed to remove a car-sized pile from the yard...and not such a small car.

On Sunday Michael installed the doggie door so that Miss Iona doesn't hate me on those longer than normal days. The sound of the saw going through the metal frame was actually (painfully) worth it.

Projects complete. Thank you all for giving up part of your weekend. So much to be thankful for, and so good to be loved.

A Runner's Reward

I admit I have a little bit of a problem. Yesterday I went running around Lake Johnson in the morning...only 2.75 miles, but with some killer hills...and then ran another 2.5 miles in the afternoon just because I felt antsy. This is becoming more and more the norm. Run once, run twice. Run more. Wait, run again.

I like the transformation it has made on me. I like running outside, in the cold, the rain, the fresh air. The elements just make it seem more "present". I also like the fact that I now can't seem to gain a pound and I am finding muscles that never existed before. I've dropped about 30 pounds and kept it off, but the dispersion keeps changing. Not that I am complaining...

The hard part? The clothes. Oh my, my beautiful clothes. I went through everything earlier and can probably only wear about 1/3. And of those, it is only because I purchased them in the last month, couldn't fit into them before, or can effectively hide the fact that they truly are too big. Not to be materialistic...but there are some beautiful things that now just sit and scoff at me.

So...I am becoming friends with a local tailor. I spent several hours there today, being groped, and pinned, and stuck and laughed at. In a nice way of course. One of the seamstresses actually asked me if I purposefully bought all my clothes three sizes too big. And a very nice man actually giggled a little as I stood holding handfuls of cloth in my hand in order to keep my favorite pair of Tahari pants from falling to the floor.

It was all worthwhile though, as another woman in a similar predicament started up a conversation with me. Turns out we are both new runners and running is what we credit for our clothing dilemmas. As I stood on the platform holding up my shirt so I could get pinned yet again...she looked at me and said...YOU ARE REALLY SUPER SKINNY.

I thank you oh stranger at the tailor. I have NEVER heard those words before. I have never known that term. I like it. I own it. I am it. Running is more than just sanity.

Let's Begin Again

For a variety of reasons I have been a bit absent this month. I needed to pay attention to what I was doing, and how I was doing it without the unintentional interruptions of others. This path is one hell of a learning experience and one I sometimes need to course out myself. I also needed to keep the misinterpretations at a minimum. Of course, my silence has created its own set of challenges.

With that said...let's begin again.

While this stage of the house is essentially complete, it does still have some finishing touches that we'd been neglecting. Until this week, that is.

Over a few weekends Michael and I hit up the local home improvement stores and found a new front storm door, a doggie door and tile for the kitchen backsplash.

The backsplash was the last thing that needed to be finished in the kitchen. While it looked great, it just felt "unfinished". Unfinished. That one word could sum up my 2009.

The tile was such a tremendous find! I knew I wanted glass and something small. I thought I wanted round, but once we saw the gorgeous sheets of tiny bronze and amber squares, we knew this was it. We also found a few ceramic and glass tiles that had been returned from another store. They only had a few and we grabbed them.

Michael fortunately has retained all his tile talent and created yet another stunning piece. I only had to grout and clean...

This seems like a good way to begin again.

November...Bring it.

Yesterday a coworker looked inquisitively at me and said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary. Someone is making you happy". That woman has some strong and slightly scary powers of insight.

According to the Chinese horoscope, my good fortune should not be upon me until this Saturday. Well, I have been warranted an early release from chaos and have been granted the right of bliss. I am moving from the time entitled "Vulnerable" to that of "Glorious Breakthroughs". It says that this is my month of transformation and all the changes are excellent. Apparently it only takes one look to know that the transformation has already begun!

The cat has found the someones and the somethings, in very unexpected places. Recently I've been at the Lexington BBQ Fest and wine tasting with great friends. I also kicked one of their asses in a rematch of travel Scrabble...that would be twice now. I've also been fortunate to hike up to MacRae Peak on Grandfather Mountain. Cables and ladders and wind, oh my. The views, the company, and the landscape was so well worth the pain in my knees the next day.


And then. And then there was Halloween. As everyone knows, this is the best day of the year for me. I just love everything about it...and it really doesn't matter if it is spent by throwing a huge drunken costume party or just quietly sitting on the porch with friends...drinking wine and passing out candy. I admit that I was unprepared for the awesomeness of this one. Memorable? Just call it infamous. Friends, food, Glogg, debauchery, a legendary gay nightclub, dancing, seeing 4a and thinking that too was awesome. Just awesome.

If that weren't delightful enough, November entered my world with an extra hour of needed sleep and a smile on my face. That smile stayed all the way through to West Virginia and back...car finally came through, and the Iona plate has been reborn.

Yeah, you can call this cat happy...and I have someones to thank for that.

Pretty Has a Purpose

I will acknowledge that over the past couple months my personality has taken a beating. Some days it was bitter, others obnoxious, sometimes giddy, often angry, and rarely pretty. While I felt I was "holding it in", I knew it was bleeding out. It's one thing though when people who know you see it, it's entirely another when strangers pick up on it.

I didn't get that fact until I was out on the other side. I knew the day that I felt better, and bit-by-bit the people around me realized that it wasn't a fluke and that I would probably still be the same tomorrow. I started being referred to as "Tigger" or asked if I was "always on"...and the answer is yes. YES I AM! Right now I am wired high and I plan to stay there. I am running faster, sleeping less, and feeling better. Some might call that happy.

And it is paying off in other ways. The prettier personality has been noticed by strangers; people who have no stake in the game are getting it. The man at Costco went out of his way to get me a cart. The woman at Target told me she loved what I was wearing. The neighbor around the corner stopped to talk to me for the first time ever...even though we've lived with our backyards touching for over a year. People have been going out of their way to treat me well, and I am certain it is because they see a happy and confident person in front of them. My edge no longer fuels theirs. In the case of personality, pretty does pay off.

Would you like to try some Glogg?

This was the weekend of random awesomeness, and therefore can only be described through pictures. When someone asks you to go to IKEA, what should you say? HELL YES. Hell yes when you haven't been in over a year, the closest one is 2 hours away, someone you like to spend time with is driving, you crave meatballs, and you need napkins.

Did you know you can upgrade your meatball platter of goodness? Yes boys and girls, for only $1.00 you can get 5 more meatballs. The country is super fat for a reason.


A game of Size and Manners? Oh my. Date night?

Our IKEA trip culminated with a pass through the Marketplace to buy frozen meatballs and cookies. As we were reaching the checkout, we heard a very excited voice ask us, "Would you like to try some Glogg?". Did that man in a fake accent say Glogg? Oh what fine Swedish delicacy could Glogg be? Well for $2.99 you get a bottle of some fine tasting mulling spice-like beverage. And according to our happy and somewhat spastic man, it tastes mighty great with vodka, or rum, or wine. This key piece of information probably accounts for his giddy nature. We all left with Glogg.

Only one thing can compete with IKEA, and that would be the NC STATE FAIR! This trip was destined to be great because it came with a personal tour guide. Thank you Brad for attending the fair for 29 of your 30 young years. Thank you for not making Carl and I wander aimlessly without a path or a purpose. Otherwise I may have missed the vicious cottonball of death....

...or The Fried Dough Shop...

...or the drunken sheep made by high school students. What really are they teaching these kids out in the country?

...and I might have missed Wisconsin! It is good to know that there is a little bit of Wisconsin in every State Fair. A little bit of Hot Wisconsin Cheese to go with the Chocolate Covered Bacon aka Pig Lickers. I am speechless. And no longer hungry. No longer hungry for food ever, ever, again.


Most importantly though, I may have missed Carl's inner-Pirate. And oh what a shame that would be. Arrggh. This man looks like he knows his Glogg.

Pick a Pumpkin

Saturday was one of those silly days that reminds me of why I love this time of year. The fairs, the festivals, and the friends who come over and carve pumpkins.

Earlier in the day I was hanging out in the backseat while my friends drove all over the city looking for the best places to stop on the Parade of Homes tour. We wandered in and out of a few neighborhoods with million dollar + listings that showed potential. But before long, we realized that we had better taste than most of the home stagers, and that we'd probably all have to live together in order to make the mortgage "really work". The corgi would just not like all the stairs, so we had to decline this option.

So instead we started talking about all the upcoming Halloween activities and began ticking off the ones we'd be participating in over the next couple weeks. That made me realize that I had NO PUMPKINS. At this point I believe I was jumping around in the backseat demanding that we find a pumpkin patch. As good men do, they quickly indulged my needs.

Off to the Farmer's Market we went and within no time we were stocked with a car full of pumpkins and mums. Let the carving begin!


A little wine, some beer, a happy dog, and a yard full of men carving pumpkins. Seriously? Did someone get into my head and know that this was the day I was dreaming of? You have your fantasy...and it is fine for me to have mine.

I expect that I will get out all the decorations later this week and really make the house ready for trick-or-treaters. Where to find me on the great Hallowed Day? Of course...on the porch with the corgi, wine, and friends. Just where I should be.

Observations of Others

Most of the time, I am pretty ambivalent about the unsolicited opinions of others. Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate good criticism as a platform for improvement, and I like feedback. But some recent comments just made me pause...and laugh.

Friday was a fun day for my department. We were all in the office early so that that we could end at noon and go on a group scavenger hunt around Durham. I am a morning person, so the earlier in the day, the better. Well, some of my employees are not used to seeing me first thing in the morning and were a little unprepared for my energy level. I was talking to a couple people, when one of my managers just looks at me in shock and says, "You are a Tigger, and you so need to take it down to at least an Eeyore level". This is one I want to use again and again.

Later that day the scavenger hunt facilitator made a silly comment about me, and a coworker near me looks at him and says, "Oh no you didn't! You don't mess with the Sarah! No you don't". Apparently my Zohan alter ego has quite the reputation in the office.

A couple weeks back someone called me "fat". I acknowledge that during several points in my life this would have been a justifiable perception. I have never stressed about my weight, but I have certainly been heavier than I prefer. But now? Since August I have lost about 20 pounds and have been working out at least four times a week. I no longer have clothes that fit and I have coworkers demanding me to STOP LOSING WEIGHT. So for someone to call me fat NOW? I really, really need to just laugh this one off.

It was raining last Tuesday so Michael and I ran inside around the track, rather than along our typical outdoor route. The track sits above the basketball courts, which is also where I play volleyball. As we were rounding a turn, I could see some of our players setting up the nets so I waved down to them. After about 2.5 miles, Michael left and I went down to the courts to play. During one of our breaks, a fellow player came up to me and said, "I knew it. I knew you were a runner. I noticed last week that you have the legs of a runner". That is definitely something that no one has ever said to me before. This is an observation I want to hold onto. This one made me laugh, and more importantly, it made me smile.

Sins of the Father

I have inherited many things from my father....some amazing qualities, and some that prove more challenging. More importantly though, I have learned a lot from my dad. And most of these things I have demonstrated to be productive, inspiring and instrumental in my success as an adult. And that includes his teachings about beer.

Several of our friends and my coworkers volunteered last Saturday at the World Beer Festival in Durham. Although I still wasn't feeling well, the day was quite fun. My friend Valerie and I decided to be beer pourers, which basically meant that we set up a booth with buckets, ice and beer, and then poured 2 ounces of said beer into many, many, many small glasses.


When asked which beer booth we wanted to volunteer at, I didn't have to consider for very long. Where am I from again? Oh yeah, Wisconsin. What beer does my dad really like? That would be Leinenkugels. Where are they from? BRING IT ON, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.


Leinie's must have known that a local girl was working their table because they didn't even send a rep down to tell us about the beer, educate us on the seasonal brews, or provide any information what-so-ever about the product or the company. No problem, I can handle this. And handle it we did. I ended up talking to many Wisconsinites who wanted to trade tales about our happy state and all the things (Leinies included) that they cannot procure in abundance in NC. It didn't take long for Valerie to start lying and say that she too failed from cheese land. Apparently when you are drunk, a Southern accent sounds remarkably similar to my native tongue.

Each session of the festival lasts 4 hours and ours started at noon. The first hour is filled with a variety of people - those that just want to drink, those that are particular about what they try, and those that are seriously there to taste and score the selections. By the second hour, the inebriation sets in. By the third, EVERYONE is drunk. At the fourth, people no longer care what they are drinking as long as they believe there is alcohol in it. At this point it was very clear we were running out of beer, and I was a little worried that people were going to riot our little table.

Thankfully one of the guys at the booth next to us thought we were cute and really had a thing for redheads. That meant he firmly positioned himself between Valerie and I, and kept our tubs iced down and full of cold beer. Keep in mind that I don't know if we could have kept the masses happy without him. We ended up running out of all but one beer with an hour still to go, and ALL beer 30 minutes later. And the drunks kept coming.

All told, we opened 192 bottles and poured over a 1000 two-ounce tastes. All while fending off lots of leering drunks who did not mind that I am married or Valerie has a boyfriend. My favorite remains the distinguished gentleman that owns a local pizza place and was easily the age of my dad. He came around at least four times to just stand, look at me, and then remind me to "save him a slow dance". It is no wonder that by 4p, I was tired, still laughing, and needing a drink.