As is as much a tradition anymore as turkey and dressing, we watched football - accompanied by the yelling and screaming previously mentioned in my post of last Saturday.
Cam Newton and the Panthers are amazing - an 11-0 record, beating the Dallas Cowboys quite nicely.
In that game, it was upsetting to see Romo go down on the same shoulder that was broken a few weeks ago. He probably would have been better served by the docs, the trainers and the team ownership if they had given him even a couple of more weeks of rehab to rebuild the muscles and ensure the bone was fully healed. As it is, he went down, his wife was horrified - there was a camera shot of her, head down and crying - and the x-rays are inconclusive.
Later that evening was the flip-side of horrible. Brett Favre had his number retired at Lambeau Field and his childhood hero, Bart Starr, was on hand to celebrate with him. A really excellent moment - on Thanksgiving or not.
Closer to home we had a delicious dinner and then... Yeah. It seems there is almost always an 'and then' accompanied by the opening strains of Beethoven's Fifth - dadadaDA without the follow-on. In case you're not sure, here's the first movement - it's the first couple of bars I'm using as my horror movie warning theme:
Is it any wonder that some musical aficionados refer to that first movement as the "Fate motif"?
Anyway, I had misgivings when hubby came back from the store with a selection of items not on the shopping list. Five bottles of wine, a bottle of Bushmill's Irish Whisky, and two bottles of Drambuie. Anyone else see a problem here? And, hubby is a self-admitted alcoholic. He's been on the wagon for weeks and last night, he fell off - HARD. Really, really hard and he's in a world of hurt this morning.
Even though that's private information, it's something that's common enough among the general population that I'm not afraid to share.
I don't "drink". I indulge, in moderation, but know the signs quite well. When the tip of my nose and my lips get numb, I'm done. No more - just water please. Last night we shared two bottles of wine, with him drinking the lion's share - a glass-and-a-half+ to my one glass - and I was on the cusp. I thought (as in actively thought) about his offer of Bushmill's and decided to have a little. About a finger's worth, and that was enough. From there, I stopped.
And this is, I think, the difference between an "addictive" personality and a non-addictive personality. Hubby is the former. I am the latter. He says, because it's comforting for him to say, that I'm as much of an alcoholic as he is. But I'm not.
We shared the two bottles of wine, then he went to the Bushmill's. He had a glass of that, then decided to add some Drambuie and see how that went down. Another glass of whisky with the Drambuie and... wham. Instant inebriation and it wasn't pretty.
If he had not brought the liquor home last night I would have been a touch, but no more than a touch, disappointed. After all, what's a nice dinner without a little wine? But why on Earth he had to bring home more than a bottle or two is beyond me.
We had chicken for dinner, so a nice dry chardonnay or a crisp sauvignon blanc would have gone well, with a slightly fruity wine for "dessert" - and that would have been enough. What possessed him to buy any more is a mystery to me, and one I'm not allowed to explore. I've tried to explore it and have been routinely slapped down hard for my efforts.
Even last night, when he pulled the Bushmill's from the freezer (which is where he likes to keep it, so it's nice and cold), I asked, "Are you sure?" and he said with practiced joviality, "What's your problem?" My problem.
It's my problem because I can't help but wonder why he's doing this to himself. My problem because if I had said one syllable more he would have lost his temper and told me to 'shut up', or words to that effect. My problem because this morning he's going to be in a bear of a mood and caring for his mother will fall to me. Which is fine, really, but she's fussy and particular and she will fret and fuss and ask a million questions for which I mostly have no answers.
The 'where's * son *' is easy. He's in bed, sick as a dog and hungover. It's after nine o'clock in the morning and he's in bed and will probably be in bed until 10:30 or later.
'What's wrong with him?' is easy, too. She was there. She saw some of the aftermath - the stumbling and staggering and slurring. She didn't see or hear the upstairs bit, but that's just as well.
However, there are a plethora of other questions she might ask, for which I have no answer. Things like, 'why did he drink so much?' Well, yes, I could answer that question. Because he's an alcoholic with all the self-control of a seven-year old left alone with Bill Gates's credit line in a Toys-R-Us. But, for domestic peace, it's better I don't get into that. There are too many potential answers, none of them good.
At six-thirty last evening he announced he was going upstairs, to bed. She followed about a minute later, announcing her intent and going into the bathroom.
In the living room, I turned her bed down, adjusted it (it's got a motorized mechanism that raises the head), got her water, did the lights - bright lights so she can find her way from bed to bath and back in the middle of the night. At seven I was left alone in the family room.
Honestly? It was pretty nice. No blaring television. I turned the volume down and changed the station to the internet radio station I prefer (kdfc.com - all classical, all the time with no ads, just announcements because it's a publicly funded station). Then I spent a couple of hours relaxing and letting the peace of the house steal over me. At nine I went up to bed and was settled in, after getting Sam taken care of, at nine-thirty.
This morning I'm a little drowsy, but no more than that. I finished my whisky and started in on water, and stayed on water all night. Had some more this morning, so I'm in fine shape.
Later today I'll head out and do the errands - after the Black Friday madness has a chance to calm a bit. I don't have to go to any of the malls, thank God. Just to Costco and PetSmart and Safeway or Raley's. Typical errands but I have to do them today because Sam's out of cat food as of this afternoon and if I'm heading across town to do that, I might as well stay across town and do the Costco run. Safeway and Raley's are both between here and there, so it's just another stop in my trip. Easy-peasy and then I'll be done with errands for the weekend.
So - there's a window into my world on the day after Thanksgiving. I do hope that yours was more pleasant, less dramatic and full of satisfaction and great memory makers.
Have a lovely day today, too, okay?
Best~
Philippa
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