Party planning

Mica’s back home and working again. Her elbow is giving her a lot of trouble--very sore--and making it difficult to use the mouse and keyboard for long stretches. She’s made an appointment with her doctor to make sure she’s doing the right things. The bruising is incredible. It’s amazing she didn’t break anything.

I went over at noon to walk the little white dog. Mica let me know what week she’s going to be away visiting her mom. I’ll stay with the little white dog then. The way it works out, I’ll take care of Izzy for nine days, may have one day at home and then will be with the little white dog for seven days. A year ago all of this would have been a nice break from my normal routine. This year my normal routine is more varied.

I broke the news to Blaine when he came over tonight. I believed there was a good chance he would be put off. October is usually a gorgeous month around here, and we have talked many times about taking advantage of the fall weather and colors to go exploring the trails at a couple of state parks. “[The Little White Dog] won’t be a problem. He can go with us. He’s fine with car rides and he loves walks.” Izzy hates car rides, and I have no idea how she would react on a park trail. She would probably enjoy it, but I’m not comfortable testing it with her.

“We’ll work something out.”

“Really?”

He looked at me. “Did you think it was going to be a problem?”

“It isn’t ideal for us.”

He considered that, finished with a shrug. “For some time now my ideal has been spending time with you. That will still happen. And I like dogs--not like you like dogs,” he chuckled. “We have a more immediate problem anyway.”

“Oh?”

He retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket and found a text he wanted me to read. It was from a couple that I don’t think I’ve mentioned before, but who knows. I met them when we celebrated Eve’s birthday, and I liked both quite a bit. I saw them again at Eve’s mom’s funeral. The text was an invitation to a football watching party at their house on Saturday. “Oh my.” I handed the phone back. “Why are they-- Don’t they go to the tailgates?”

And I received the first briefing into the politics of the friendships that make up Blaine’s social circle. When he finished, I observed, “This is why it’s good to be an introvert. When you only have a couple of friends, the complications are kept to a minimum.”

“I hadn’t considered that angle,” he said.

“So what’s it going to be?”

“What’s your preference?”

“I’ve been hearing about these tailgates since before I met you. I really want to go. Plus, this is a good game to watch in that environment.” It’s against a team with fans so odious that all I want is for us to annihilate them. Or win by one. I don’t care how it happens as long as they lose. LOSE.

I may have said much of that out loud. “This is a new side of you.”

“I can get fiery.”

“I like it.”

So, we’re going to the tailgate but Blaine thinks it would be best to make an appearance at the watching party.

“If it looks like we will win,” I said, “can we go back to the tailgate before the game is over?”

“Are you going to taunt the visitors?”

“Introverts don’t taunt,” I reassured. “We feed taunts to those who do.”

“Eve?”

“Eve.”