Moscow Mules at Brothers Lounge

Yesterday I woke up determined to a) polish off half a Brita picher of water and b) buy a last-minute plane ticket to Omaha, leaving as soon as possible, returning today. The water was much needed. The ticket was $918 and thus out of the question. I think there's something preternatural about wanting to be near the people you love during the month of December (and into early January, with the feast of the Epiphany as the general cut-off point for sentimentality). What began as a commercially manufactured season has now become a natural feeling of longing for comfort and security and baked goods. I don't know. All I know is that calling Libby today to tell her happy birthday and hearing the echoed hellos of my friends gathered around her parents dining room table in Lincoln was oddly heart wrenching. I wanted to be there. But $918 is a lot of money, and I still owe the John Merlo library at least a third of my paycheck. Anyway, I spent today feeling itchy and restless, like I was late for something important that I couldn't put my finger on... It doesn't help that the windchill here is -30, leaving sane people housebound and brave people frozen to the sides of buildings.

The Country of Honduras (I'm really not sure whose jurisdiction she's under, so it's easier to create a some sort of imaginary organization) is letting us have Mary Clare back for two weeks, starting the day after Christmas. Sometimes I think about it too much and get overwhelmed - when I was little, I would always wake up the night before Christmas and vomit, this being the adult version of that same sort of feeling. I'm trying to keep my expectations down. She is a puzzle piece. I have been running on only nearly complete capacity since September. I have grand schemes for her visit, but in all honesty, we could sit on the kitchen floor drinking Diet Coke and talking about leave-in conditioner for three days straight, and I would be more than satisfied.

Have you seen Mamma Mia? I get embarrassed for other people really easily, so it made me uncomfortable. I used to love musicals, but now I'm more inclined to think that they go against human nature. We are not supposed to explain things through song unless we're teaching children the alphabet. Feel free to argue with me on this, as I could easily be convinced otherwise.