She was a large woman--as tall as myself and maybe 10 pounds heavier--a national MVP caliber university athlete, who, in typical jock fashion, was quite self-righteous and not afraid to roughhouse with the boys, but not too fond of being roughhoused back. For a while, she was dating a good friend of mine and I lived with them. She was also a non-drinker.
Anyways, when she asked me this question I thought back upon the half-year or so I'd spent in the same building with her. I thought back to a time in which--after months of being bruised and Charley horsed by this titan of a woman--I gave her an ultimatum: stop punching me in the sternum or get a punch in the face herself. She punched me, I punched her, things were ugly for a while.
And then it occurred to me that the only time I really had any patience for this barbaric amazonian, was when I was drinking.
And so I answered her question like this: "I drink because it makes me a better person."
This reply rung with divine clarity for both her and I.
So the point of this story is that I often find inspiration in beer. Not only does it give me peace, but it gives me motivation, and if I haven't had too many, it gives me clearness of thought.
And today, beer has given me something else: the exact due date of my child's birth.
Behold this picture:
It is no mere coincidence that upon admiring this beautifully decorated and sublimely unblemished box that I discovered the symbols "10 MAY 8" typed in revelational black.According to the doctor's mathematical, but soulless, calculations, our child is likely to be born around May 8th, 2008.
I now know that the little bugger will be born two days later.
Mark it on your calenders people. Buy a box of cigars and some soothing balm for Cass' who-hoo.
The Froese/Hicks family tree grows another branch May 10th.
No comments:
Post a Comment