Milk, Coffee, Water and Beer

A sign a loved one will have twins!! Good luck with that. Hehe!

My friend is pregnant. She likes to have her IPA, and the unexpectedness of her pregnancy did not allow her to have a proper binge session before her newfound sobriety. She lamented on how walking around the city in the summer unable to have a cold beer on a restaurant patio is hard to handle. She admitted her desire to have a beer was so strong, she considered going ahead and having one.
I said, "Lots of people have a drink when they're pregnant. I read French women drink throughout their entire pregnancy, but it's just one drink at a sitting." After sighing in dismay of not being French, a society above many social foibles; they don't get fat, are guilt free and confident about drinking while pregnant, smoke in moderation, and gapped teeth look alluring and sultry, I added, "But what's the fun in drinking if you can't get drunk, or at least seriously buzzed?"
She agreed, and then sounded like a bigger alcoholic by admitting she preferred to drink at home, alone while surfing the web and watching TV,  rather than at parties. There are definite perks to drinking alone. Firstly, not having to listen to a drunk person, and in turn, getting to find one's self so amazingly amusing it feels like a highly satisfying night of socializing. Secondly, there is no standing around compelled to be charming or try to gain affection from people who are all clearly great friends and don't need an outsider to try and penetrate their already complete social circle.
The last two weeks have been filled with intensive socializing. I spent the first week vacationing with friends and the second week with family for my Grandfather's memorial. By the time the memorial came around I was burning out, and scrounged up enthusiasm to see people I don't see often.
After my no-nonsense aunt told me I need to cut my hair and dye it brown, we chatted about her upcoming trip to Portugal. I said, "I hear it's a wine lover's paradise."
She grimaced, and said, "I don't drink wine, Alicia. I drink water, beer, coffee and milk. No wine." Her exclusion was admirable because of her contentment and feeling fulfilled. Her passion suggested that introducing another option would be glutinous and for her that is preposterous. Even though she lives out on a farm in desolate Nevada with my uncle, she is of French descent, as you can tell from her amazing self assurance and lack of hesitation in telling me I need to rethink my current hair style.
She probed with the usual, "Having any more babies?"
I mustered up similar self assurance, and grimaced as I said, "Oh, hell no. Babies are great and all, but they really aren't that cool until 2 years old, and still they act like turds, a lot. Besides, I get too fat. It takes me ages to recover, and it's demoralizing."
She asked for en example of my eating habits, and I said, "I used to eat an enormous chocolate croissant after lunch," trying to illustrate that I'd often eat another entire meal immediately after I ate a meal.
She didn't seem to understand what I meant because she said, "Oh, I never had that problem. I could always eat croissants without getting fat."
By Sunday morning my longing for my home was all consuming. The nights leading up to the memorial I was having weird dreams that were so nonsensical they were surely meaningful. One dream I was following a glossy haired skunk down the street. I read dreaming of a skunk can mean a couple things; I suppress anger and am on the verge of explosion, I am driving people away, or I am not expressing my true feelings.
Happily I'm home so I can stop suppressing anger, driving people away or having to mask my true feelings. I probably was being afflicted by all three, since they're all side effects of too much cavorting and the inevitable social anxiety.
When I cut open my hardboiled egg for breakfast and saw a double yolk. I first thought, "There is no way I'm eating that shit," and then I took a picture so I could send it to my friend and let her know this is a sign she is having twins.
One day at home and I already feel like reaching out to people. Self assurance in my social aptitude is nothing to dream about.