I was planning to buy some mini pumpkins and gourds to decorate with, but by the time I got to Wimberley, there wasn't a one to be had. I looked around to see what else I could come up with, and spotted some beautiful, huge pomegranates, the exact rosy shade as my sofa. Then I discovered some cute little prickley pear cactus pods in the same pear green as my cozy lap blanket. Finally, I found some gorgeous mangoes that were brushed with both of those hues. When I got back to the house, I grouped everything together on the mantel, along with a few fall leaves and some votive candles. I do believe it is the simplest, yet most beautiful arrangement I have ever pulled together. I couldn't resist lighting the candles, and sitting down to gaze blissfully for a while. Then I offered up a little prayer of thanks, for the gift of being able to reach a state of bliss so easily. I'm not kidding - I really do have a gift!
People often ask why I never drank or used drugs, considering I went to UT at the height of its hippie, war-protesting days. Most assumed I was some far-righteous goodie-two-shoes, but they were wrong. I've spent a lot of time pondering this, and eventually came to a three-fold conclusion. First of all, I don't seem to get that happy buzz that everyone always talks about. I go straight from stone-cold sober to pukey sick in nothing flat. Actually, there is one dentist in Odessa, TX that I will never be able to face again, for that very reason. He was the first, and last, to ever give me nitrous oxide. He kept asking me if I was feeling happy yet, and I kept answering that I didn't feel a thing, so he'd crank it up a notch. The 3rd or 4th time, I finally said "No, not happy, but the room is starting to tilt, and I don't feel so hot. Where's the restroom?" , to which he replied "Uh oh. Somebody's drunk! I'm afraid I can't let you get up and walk around now." "You'll be sorry" I said. And he was. Very.
The flip side of this coin is that, tho I get no thrill from champagne, I can summon a sense of euphoria almost at will. The simplest things can set it off - a paragraph that resonates, tasting something divine, the ending crescendo of a great piece of music, the eucalyptus smell of a florist shop or the leather smell of a shoe repair shop. Even just thinking back over an especially good day at work is likely to send shivers up my spine, producing that fuzzy-headed euphoric haze. In fact, you know that opening scene from Phantom of the Opera, where the chandelier crashes up as the organ music bursts forth? Well, that was a near-orgasmic experience for me. So who needs alcohol?
Last but not least, I just really don't enjoy drunk people. In my half-century of usually being one of the few sober people at most parties, I've had plenty of opportunities to observe those who have over-indulged. Most think it just loosens them up enough to make them more charming or witty, but it really doesn't. Trust me on this. Every time I go to a party it just strengthens my resolve to remain in full possession of my senses, such as they are. However, lest you think I am just an old stick-in-the-mud, who doesn't know how to have a good time, feel free to ask Paula and Tim about the notoriously good parties we used to throw with them, back in the 70's and 80's. One particular toga party comes to mind, when I happened to be a couple of months pregnant. One lady sidled up to Paula and said "I can't believe Becky is pregnant and drinking! Doesn't she know that's bad for the baby?" Paula asked "What on earth are you talking about? She never drinks!" Joyce's eyes grew wide in amazement, then she blurted out "Do you mean to tell me she has that much fun when she is SOBER?" Well, what can I say? It's a gift.
People often ask why I never drank or used drugs, considering I went to UT at the height of its hippie, war-protesting days. Most assumed I was some far-righteous goodie-two-shoes, but they were wrong. I've spent a lot of time pondering this, and eventually came to a three-fold conclusion. First of all, I don't seem to get that happy buzz that everyone always talks about. I go straight from stone-cold sober to pukey sick in nothing flat. Actually, there is one dentist in Odessa, TX that I will never be able to face again, for that very reason. He was the first, and last, to ever give me nitrous oxide. He kept asking me if I was feeling happy yet, and I kept answering that I didn't feel a thing, so he'd crank it up a notch. The 3rd or 4th time, I finally said "No, not happy, but the room is starting to tilt, and I don't feel so hot. Where's the restroom?" , to which he replied "Uh oh. Somebody's drunk! I'm afraid I can't let you get up and walk around now." "You'll be sorry" I said. And he was. Very.
The flip side of this coin is that, tho I get no thrill from champagne, I can summon a sense of euphoria almost at will. The simplest things can set it off - a paragraph that resonates, tasting something divine, the ending crescendo of a great piece of music, the eucalyptus smell of a florist shop or the leather smell of a shoe repair shop. Even just thinking back over an especially good day at work is likely to send shivers up my spine, producing that fuzzy-headed euphoric haze. In fact, you know that opening scene from Phantom of the Opera, where the chandelier crashes up as the organ music bursts forth? Well, that was a near-orgasmic experience for me. So who needs alcohol?
Last but not least, I just really don't enjoy drunk people. In my half-century of usually being one of the few sober people at most parties, I've had plenty of opportunities to observe those who have over-indulged. Most think it just loosens them up enough to make them more charming or witty, but it really doesn't. Trust me on this. Every time I go to a party it just strengthens my resolve to remain in full possession of my senses, such as they are. However, lest you think I am just an old stick-in-the-mud, who doesn't know how to have a good time, feel free to ask Paula and Tim about the notoriously good parties we used to throw with them, back in the 70's and 80's. One particular toga party comes to mind, when I happened to be a couple of months pregnant. One lady sidled up to Paula and said "I can't believe Becky is pregnant and drinking! Doesn't she know that's bad for the baby?" Paula asked "What on earth are you talking about? She never drinks!" Joyce's eyes grew wide in amazement, then she blurted out "Do you mean to tell me she has that much fun when she is SOBER?" Well, what can I say? It's a gift.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment