Hindsight 20/40

LuminariasDear Kentucky GRILLED Chicken, who are you fooling?

I realize I haven’t posted anything for a week. I’ve been feeling quiet. Even now, I’m not sure I want to be here or what I even want to say, but I’m tired of trying to take artistic pictures of my cat in our bathtub, so writing – you win for now.
Sometimes I wish I could give all my artistic energy to one thing. To writing. To Design. To Photography. Sometimes I feel like being so split and spastic hinders me from ever mastering one of them.
This past weekend, I got our Christmas tree and waited until her branches fell and then decorated the shit out of her like a helpless toy poodle. She sure is perdy, though and smells nice. And Pat and I had a date night because I won free tickets from work to the Botanical Desert Gardens Las Noches Luminarias (or something along those lines) where they cover the whole garden’s trails with those votive candles in orange bags. Except they weren’t bags, they were plastic which probably lessens the fire hazard or thousands of lit candles. It was beautiful. They had stations set up with music and wine. (We hate wine). But we held hands and wandered through the dark while 80 foot cactus towered over us. We sat on a bench and watched all the people strolling by, listened to Apache stories about trees being our relatives. “I like the desert,” I said. “I like all that’s hidden here.”
And after the Luminarias, we decided to try a new restaurant we would probably never try again – an Uzbekistan kabob joint on the other side of the city. We were the only ones there. We got tall Mexican cokes. I got shawarma (because I heard about it in The Avengers movie) and Pat got Kabobs. We both knew what would happen the next morning after our ethnic exploration of interesting spices and meat. We knew, but we ate like kings anyway.

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