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The Wife Comes Home

June 16, 2006

On the last night before her 30th birthday, Sara went out to the Screen on the Green showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off with a bunch of our friends. I stayed home to get work done so that I could reasonably take most of her birthday off from work. Last night, when she was sending out the email trying to drum up people to go with her, she spent some time fretting about whether anybody would show up. She still worries that people won’t want to come out and play with her, like when she was a shy and nerdy little girl.

Fortunately, we know good people out here. Sounds like she ended up with a good bunch of folks to watch Ferris with her out at Piedmont Park. Afterwards they went back to the bar and admitted their surprise that Sara is actually thirty.

About 2 a.m., Sara comes stumbling back to the house, where she’s been dropped off by a drunk Tinney and designated-driving Eva. (Worth noting: She came home with three potted tomato plants. This not something that would ever happen when I come home drunk.) She’s feeling pretty smiley, but she’s concerned that Tinney’s plan to make her drink ’til she pukes may yet come to fruition. Tinney’s got that grin of accomplishment on his face — the look of a drunk who’s sure his bet is covered. Tinney’d had her doing shots since Rooney got on the bus, it sounds like.

“What were these shots?” I ask.

“Who the hell even knows?” she says.

Happy birthday, Sara.

Noise: The Veils, “The Wild Son”

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2 comments

  1. Tell her happy birthday from me.
    I wouldn’t have guessed was thirty. Have fun.


  2. that’s my girl!
    i’m holding the braincell ransom on her special day. ;]



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