I am so out of touch with holidays. I didn't get that it was Cinco de Mayo until I was driving home from a little errand tonight and scads of people were out. It was also First Thursday (an art event in the Pearl District) so the streets were filled with people.
When I realized it was Cinco de Mayo, and that I was actually OUT. ALONE. in my CAR, I was hit with this immense urge to duck into the first mexican restaurant/bar I could find and belly up to the bar for a quick marg or three before coming home.
Alas! Such is no longer my life. (Doesn't it sound so good though?) And besides I couldn't think of anyplace nearby.
So I called E. on the phone, and he wanted some beer. So I went to get some and settled for some Mike's Hard Limeade. It's kind of like drinking a coke when you really want a fine glass of red wine, but it's OK.
And I made nachos.
And the whole point of the nachos and the beer and Faux-Margs, was to have a little fun with E. Because we used to have fun, you see. Before child, we'd have been "celebrating" by getting soused on margaritas, and we'd be having chips and salsa, and probably our own mexican film fest or whatever other funky thing we could think up.
But you know what happened? When the nachos were in the broiler, Loo started fussing. And E. went up to comfort him instead of me, because we're trying to ease up on the all-night boobie-a-thons. And since E. has not come down, and it's been 30 minutes, I'm guessing he's asleep on our bed. And so I eat nachos alone.
And that, my amigas, was my Cinco de Mayo. I didn't get to have my little fiesta. But on the bright side, look what I do have, sleeping upstairs.
How life has changed.