The Day after that other day...

Morning came early and with all the shit associated with nature – Sun blazing, birds hollering, chipmunks pounding on my head. OK, that was my hangover, but still.

Spent the morning yapping with the sister and Moms until a Very Bad Phone Call came in. Seems my … well… my “something in law” was working out this morning, felt light-headed, sat down on a bench and promptly slipped off it to the ground. Last word we have is that he was “unresponsive” and being life-coptered to a hospital onshore (he lives on a lovely island). Not completely a surprise as he has had cerebral tangle/event before, but still a bummer on a lovely spring morning at 6,000 feet up.

During the pre-trauma talk I did figure out that the bar in Newcastle is probably still open (Sis and website provided strong evidence for) and that, as usual, I had just been lost. I stopped by again in Newcastle and, lo and behold, it was there. So I'm an idiot.

I cruised the old-highway and ran every frontage road I could find. Somewhere amongst the wineries in Lodi I passed this unfortunate soul whose relationship with beer had temporarily betrayed him. I found it amusing he was passed out on the edge of a winery, but that's the kind of jerk I am.

The ride down was a good one and the Bar On The Edge Of The Delta was crowded. This marks the beginning of the “White Trash on the Water” season and why hunting licenses aren't available for this season is a mystery to me. It was probably judged unsporting as you could pick the swine off as they loaded cooler after cooler of booze onto their river-rockets. Snot-nosed little 12 year olds running around with hair that would have been unfashionable in the 70s, and the little swine are wearing Hooters T-shirts in a completely unironic way. There isn't a woman under 50 without a tramp-stamp or a man without a goatee or soul-patch. It Luckily the Rockola is playing Lynyrd Skynrd and Blink-182, so at least I want to kill everyone here. Is that a good thing?

After all that I dropped some green snowballs off at the house of a friend. I think that goes without explanation.

Then it was home and the dread specter of work the next day. I'm neither proud nor ashamed to say that I killed a rabbit, drank it's blood, and had a beer.

These things just are..