being home

Everyone talks about the caucuses. Everyone. Instead of "How 'bout that local sports team?" it's "How 'bout that Democratic candidate?" Or occasionally, "Damn, the Republican field is pathetic." Which it is.

I can pretty much do as much running on the bike path down by the river as I want. With the dogs. Best thing ever in the morning? A big fluffy blonde dog and a smaller, sleek brown dog with green eyes chasing rabbits and messing around in the water.

I like my parents but I'm glad I don't live with them.

People remember me. A state rep I volunteered for in college remembers me. My parents' friends want me to move back. Sometimes it's nice to remember that if I want to move back here, there are things I can do.

I drink more here than I drink anywhere else. The average might be down to 2 glasses a night by now, after I cut back a bit. Glass of wine while you cook? Glass of wine with dinner? Go out for a beer with friends? Yeah, I think I'm safe to drive.

Bull testicles. My friend Aroog's birthday party involved bull testicles and karaoke and his little sister trying to get me to go to church with her the next morning. I ate Rocky Mountain oysters (just a smidgen - beans and rice for real dinner), sang "Goodbye Earl" and "Boy Named Sue," and bought Aroog's mom a rum and coke, which is funny because that's what he pours at his infamous New Year's parties. As far as the karaoke went, two of my high school friends have talent. The rest of us have heart.