Kids

I really like kids...other people's kids. I have Maren and Colton who I love dearly. Not to mention Reed and Emma, who I think of as my niece and nephew as well. Tim's niece's are as precious to me as they will be when they are officially "my nieces". Michelle and Kelly's kids have always called me Auntie Beth and I have always felt like they were actually my nieces and nephews as well. So...to total it up...I have 6 nieces and 3 nephews and I couldn't be happier about that. I love spoiling them rotten, giving them unexpected gifts and being the fun Aunt.

I have friends who have children that I am close to as well...MB has 4 and I love them. Not to mention my huge extended family full of kids. I have always been the cousin who looked out for and played with the kids. Everyone has always talked about what a wonderful mother I will be someday.

But here's the thing...I don't want to have kids. Say that around most people, and you might as well have said that you murdered a stranger and have their kidneys in the fridge ready to fix with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. (Shout out to Hannibal!)

It's not that I don't like kids. Obviously, I love children. I am just WAY too selfish to have any of my own. There are days that I don't even stir from the bed until 10 minutes before I have to be at work...which luckily is about 20 feet away since I work from home and have to have that first thing in the morning bathroom break before work. On my days off, I will often spend the entire day reading a book. And when I mean the entire day, I mean I may read an entire book or three. I love that I can do that. Sure, the laundry piles up, groceries don't get purchased, I don't get a shower...but it's ok. It's just me and Tim. If he's ok with it, then I don't even care.

I don't like to think of myself as a selfish person. I like to think that I am caring and giving and all things that my friends and family need me to be; and for the most part, I think I fulfill that. But when I think about a little person relying exclusively on me, I seriously get freaked out. I enjoy my time to myself. I don't think that it is wrong, but maybe not the life that most people choose.

I will be 36 in November. The biological clock is a ticking away...and for the most part, I don't even hear it. There are times when I think it would be wonderful to see a little Tim running around or how cute our kids would be, but mostly, I shudder at the thought of turning my entire life over to someone else.

Does this make me a monster?? Most people would say, "HELL YES!" Most people however, would be wrong. Not everyone is cut out to be a parent. Not everyone is meant to have little mini-mes running around. For those of you who are, I thank you. Your children enrich my life in ways I cannot express. But for those of us who chose to be childless...be kind. We are not soul-sucking, selfish monsters. We just know our limitations and that we have lots of love to give...but to your kids instead of our own.

Too tired to sleep

Have you ever been too tired to sleep? I am there. Even as I type this, the letters are all blurring together. Of course, I've had a few Killians, so that might be some of it, but I really think that sleep is just eluding me.

The past couple of days have been very stressful, but thankfully, all is well at the moment. Tim's dad had a heart attack yesterday (was it really just yesterday???). He should be coming home tomorrow. They had to put 2 stints in and he'll be on Plavix and aspirin for the rest of his life. There's 2 more stints to go, but they are going to wait 3-4 weeks for that.

Don is a great man and I love him very much. He's a 6 foot teddy bear with a beautiful smile and a wonderful heart. (Aside from the the physical damage.) Mortality creeps up on us when we least expect it. I don't have any plans for children in the future, but if I did, Don would be the only grandfather my children would know. I was very blessed in that I had not only all 4 grandparents, but my great-grandmother in my life well into my 20s. Now that I am on the downward slide toward 40, I am suddenly realizing that my children (should we ever decide to have any) will have 2 wonderful grandmothers, 1 grandfather and 1 great-grandfather.

I don't want this post to be all maudlin...it's just that I hadn't really given a whole lot of thought to this. I realized that when I met Tim that my dad would never know the wonderful man that I have been blessed with; but until today, I'd never really given thought to the notion that my children (which really, I will probably never have...I'm a wonderful Aunt and I love the lack of responsibility and worry that comes with that role) will never know my dad. They will not know Granny and Papaw Brown or Granny Goldy. How sad is that?

Now this is really sounding too depressing, but it has been a stressful couple of days and these are the thoughts that are keeping me awake when I have had only a few hours of sleep over the past 2 days. Maybe just sharing the thoughts with cyberspace will help. So, my cyberfriends, there's a load off my mind. On to dreamland where everything is sunny and I'm amazingly thin!

Mafia Wars Addiction

Hi. My name is Beth and I'm a Mafia Wars addict. I freely admit it. I haven't actually counted the number of times a day that I check on my "family", rush my Cuban pesos to the bank before someone fights me and takes them or try to rob someone's casino...but I can safely say that several is erring on the conservative side.

What is it about this game that has me so enraptured? My mafia is made up of me and 42 friends. It's my mafia...my family. We pillage other mafias everyday, trying to make enough money to upgrade my Cuban Cocoa Plantation. We "do jobs" like shake down a hotel owner or bring the local teamsters under my control. Muh-ha ha...the power is mine!!! ALL MINE!

My NY mob makes a cool $5 million every hour. My Cubanos make 25K every 3 hours, but it's growing every day. There are properties to buy, weapons, armor and vehicles to purchase...all to make your mafia more deadly than the person who will attack you. You have to think about offensive and defensive values for each weapon, armor and vehicle. You have to make sure that you have enough so that every member of your mafia will be equipped to fight or defend.

Then there's your health, energy and stamina. Energy is the bane of my existence...along with untraceable cellular phones. Energy is required for every "job" you do. Once you're up in the higher "job" levels, higher level of energy are required to do each job. I receive 1 energy point every 5 minutes. ONE. Taking over the docks in Cuba requires 54 energy points. You have to do this particular job many times before you master it. Then you have to master it 2 more times to move on to the next level. One time per day, you are alotted an energy pack...usually sent to you by friends. This will increase your energy by 25% and fill up your energy tank. I blow through that in like 1 minute by repeatedly clicking on the "DO JOB AGAIN" button.

For every job you do or fight you win or property you rob, you earn experience points. These experience points allow you to advance to a new level. When you reach a new level...all of your health, energy and stamina is restored. I like reaching new levels...energy for jobs...jobs make money...money upgrades businesses or buys property or weapons...if I knew how to spell the sound that Tim Allen would make when he talked about cars or tools, I would insert it here.

Health is taken away everytime you fight. One stamina point is taken away each time you fight too. (Stamina is replaced 1 point every four and half minutes). You can visit the hospital and pay to be "healed" by the doctor...health is basically just a pain in the ass. Fight in Cuba...fight, fight, fight, fight, fight...fly to NY to see the doctor...fly back to Cuba to fight some more. I could see the doctor in Cuba, but I don't want to waste my precious pesos on something as trivial as restoring my health!! The only time health is an issue is when I am not on facebook playing Mafia Wars. Then some SOB or skanky ho attacks me and attacks me and eventually, I am snuffed out and lose 6 experience points. BITCHES! How dare they kill me when I'm not even playing? I have been killed 68 times. I have whacked 131 other people. HEE HEE HEE!

Believe it or not, I have not even scratched the surface of Mafia Wars. There are collections and loot and gifts and achievements and the lottery and godfather points and the hitlist....I'm working myself into a frenzy just thinking about all of the aspects of this game. Oh yeah...it's a game. There's no bloody action. No shootings or stabbings shown on the screen. Here's a fight that took place in Cuba:

Your mafia of 43 fought against Don Draffin in Cuba with 7 Aguila HV .50 Sniper Rifles, 6 ASC45 "Conquistador"s, 18 Para 322s, 12 BA-12 Assault Rifles, a Guerrilla Commando, a Davy Crockett Hat, 41 Street Gang Members, an El Rey Roadster, 18 Montaine 320s, 7 Multi-Purpose Trucks, 17 Chucho FAVs.

Don Draffin's mafia of 31 fought with 2 Gaff hooks, 11 Cane Knives, 9 Ru-38 Pistols, 6 Gadyuka-5 Pistols, 3 Bayonets, 4 Red Coats, 6 Falsified Documents, 15 Camouflage Body Armors, 3 Federal Agents, 3 Bodyguards, 2 Private Jets, an El Rey Roadster, 5 Ocelot Armored Trucks, a Cigarette Boat, a SWAT Van, a Vintage Cruiser, 3 Barges, 3 Montaine 320s, 3 Multi-Purpose Trucks, 10 Chucho FAVs, a Prop plane.
You WON the fight, taking 1 damage and dealing 18 damage to your enemy. You gained C$0 and 1 experience points.

That's it. Why do I love this so much? It's a guilty pleasure for certain. For some people, it's reality tv. For me and "my little friend"...it is Mafia Wars.

What doesn't kill you is likely to cost as least a couple hundred bucks!

I'm not new to blogging. I'm just new to actually blogging regularly. Today is about home improvement; a topic that is viewed in my household as the devil. I'm not looking to completely change the house. Tim's house is a nice home. You can tell that a bachelor has lived in it for the past 4 years and another one for several years before that. So what that Tim had left his office primer white for 4 years?! Who is it hurting that he never had the desire to rip down the hideous watering can and flower border in the kitchen? Who cares that all of the appliances in the kitchen are stainless steel but the knobs on the cabinets and drawers are brass??

This is where I started my attack. One of the first things I did when I moved in here was change all of the knobs and drawer pulls to brushed stainless steel like the appliances. Tim was great with that. He thought it looked much better too, plus...HE DIDN'T HAVE TO LIFT A FINGER and the change was done.

Next on the list was the office. I rummaged through paint swatches. I debated soothing colors. At the time, I was not working so I had lots of time to think on this. I chose a color called Harvest Brown. My friend, Mary Beth, thinks its more of a baby-shit green. Anywho, I painted half the office one night while Tim was at a meeting. It turned out nice. He was amazed with what I had done. I felt slightly superior to everyone else in the world because of his enthusiasm.

Several weeks pass by with the half painted, half white primer walls. We decided that the spare bedroom, which was woefully empty except for a matress and box springs on the floor, needed a remodel too. Tim picked out the color for this room. I am at a loss of the name of the color, but it was supposed to be an orangish-brown. It turned out quite like a pumpkin. Still bare, but now with its new paint job, the spare bedroom was done. (except for the trim).

Back to the office. If you had seen the state of his desk and all of the other crap in the office, you wouldn't blame me for my procrastination. But, I got a job working from home. This required that I have a space to do my work. The office remodel was back on the table.

We finally finished the 4 walls...with 2 coats and it looked great. No baby-shit green here...just a very subtle, light shade of browny-green. There was a double-door closet in the room which had been a space devoted to a 30-gallon trash can for mail that Tim needed to shred, plus any boxes, papers, plastic containers, dead bodies, etc. that needed to be out of the way when he was on the computer. I had picked a coordinating color for the closet. I can't remember the name of it right at the moment, but I have it written down somewhere in case we need to touch it up. It is a very lovely shade of blue.

Before starting on painting the closet, I needed to find a place to put all of the crap that was in there...perfect idea...the spare bedroom which is empty!!! I hauled the detrius from one room to another and cleared the closet...all ready for it's paint and transformation into "organized" storage. It turned out great and again, Tim was baffled by my ability to remove the doors to the closet, paint and transform it to a storage area with actual organization. (until he looked in the orange spare bedroom.)

One day, I don't remember which or why, I had a wild hair and decided that I wanted to rip down the ugly border and paint the kitchen to match a bowl that I had found at the new Kroger Marketplace in Beaumont. (If you haven't been, you really should check it out. It's GREAT!) So, I called Lowe's and ordered 2 shades of yellow, called Tim and asked him to pick them up on the way home from work along with all the tools I would need to strip the border from the kitchen. The paint was WAY off the mark. I guess that comparing my bowl to the paint swatches online really isn't the best way to order paint. The yellows looked like, well, I don't think I can adequately find the words to express their brightness and complete hideousness when placed close together. Suffice to say, I have placed a large print over the area that I tested the colors in to make sure that no one's eyes are rendered sightless from the brightness of the yellows.

I started ripping down the border. It wasn't really difficult; it just wasn't very rewarding either. I finished about 1/3 of the kitchen and that's where it still is to this day. I think I've decided to go with a different color scheme as well, but that's for another post. At this point, Tim thought it wise to deem the upstairs as my playground while the downstairs, which is basically every man's dream, a huge TV, a receiver, 5 amps, surround sound, 2 couches and a loveseat, his domain with the exception of paint color should I actually finish any other project.

Ok, so 2 rooms down, sort of...I had decided that the spare bedroom would be "my room" for "my things" and since I have a lot of green things and the lovely cherry bedroom set that my Dad had while growing up, pumpkin was not going to do. But Tim's brother is moving in with us and we had neither the time, nor the inclination to repaint the spare room. All we had to do was clear it of the office stuff, the painting stuff, my clothes, my junk that had no place, etc. This was done and in time for Nick to move his stuff in, which is mostly in bags all over the floor. (the mattress and box springs had been relegated to the trash prior to Nick moving in.)

Ah...the almost brother-in-law moving in. This prompted my very necessary cleaning of the master bathroom, which I never use because...ick...it's totally gross and it's a man's room all the way. But I didn't want to share a bathroom with Nick, so I thought I should get the master bath, which is basically the size of a VERY small closet, into something that I would actually walk into and maybe even use. I started with trying to clean the BLACK mildew from the shower. There was this plastic something or other that was wrapped around the bathtub against the tile of the shower walls. It was white...the area behind it was black. This was the first thing to go. I knew that I could caulk the space between the two areas, so why have this nasty stuff there?? As I was gleefully ripping the plastic off, a tile or two from the shower came off too. "YIKES??" I thought. Oh well, I can put those back on and regrout.

Whoops, back up. Before I got on the cleaning the shower stint, I started with the floor. Apparently, my mind tried to block that fact until now. The floor was typical linoleum, plus a layer of hair and dust that would make my grandmother faint. I tried cleaning first, but the area around the tub would not come clean and was clearly not attached to the subfloor in anyway.

On one of our random trips out, I happened to find a very lovely linoleum floor tile that is the peel and stick variety. I figured this was Providence. I had a nasty floor that I needed replaced and here were floor tiles that would do it. I purchased the floor tiles and told Tim that it would be no problem to get the job done...I had done it before. What I didn't tell him was that it was more than 10 years ago and I didn't actually do it myself so much as watch someone else do it.

So, out with the old linoleum. I started ripping up the nasty floor with a zeal that is often reserved for more exciting things like...partying, going to the amusement park or winning the lottery. Trouble was, beneath the ugly, hair covered linoleum, was a another layer of hideous, gold veined linoleum. I say lineoluem like I know that's what it was, but I really don't. For all I know, the bottom layer was asbestos ridden and I will have mesothelioma in a few years and have to call 1-800-call-gary for advice on who to sue for my condition.

Flooring mostly gone, I went on to the shower, which resulted in tiles falling from the wall. I would have stopped there, but there was...ick...black mold behind the fallen tiles. I know from all of my DIY watching that this is a very bad thing and it must be removed. The tiles along the tub removed with little effort, which I pointed out to to Tim and anyone else who would listen, was very bad, and I was making our home a healthy place for us by doing this. I had removed the bathroom door and placed it against the wall on Tim's side of the bed and tacked up plastic so as not to expose us to the lung eating bacteria in the mold. At this point, Nick was moving in to our home in about a month. Plenty of time for me to finish the remodel...sure.

The cement board behind the tiles was rotten along the waterline...no problem to remove. I donned a mask and eye protection and started beating ceramic tiles with a hammer to complete the task. I bought a keyhole saw so I could cut the cement board and the drywall behind it to remove the horribly funky black mold. This was a tedious process. I was no longer having fun. This was real work at it's worst. I quickly called another soon to be brother-in-law and acquired his Rotozip to make quicker work of cutting the cement board and drywall out. I worked on this for a couple of days, finished 2 walls completely and decided, hell, this is work. I stopped and decided that sharing a bath with Nick was not as bad as finishing what I had started.

REPRIEVE, Nick is not moving in as soon as we thought. I started back to work on the bathroom with a new zeal after about a month of not doing anything to it. I had one wall of tile left to do. The wall with the plumbing. After a call to my cousin, Chuck, I realized that there was no water shutoff for the shower and tub area and turning the water off for the toilet and sink did nothing for the demo. I turned both back on and we had a half bath that we had missed...well, Tim missed anyway. Chuck informed me that I would be fine as long as I didn't cut the plumbing behind the wall. At this point, I was just busting up tile, so I didn't worry too mush about flooding the house.

Until...I was hammering away on the bullnose tile along the outer edge of the shower. One backswing was a little over zealous and I hit the tank of the toilet. It was like slow motion...I saw the crack literally grow out and down from the point where I struck the tank. Water started slowly seeping. OH NO!! Quickly, I flushed the toilet to remove the water from the tank, ripped the lid off the toilet so I could grab the floater to keep it from filling back up and then turned off the valve to stop the water from flowing to the commode. WHEW! Crisis averted!!! Thanks to my quick thinking, we did not have a flooded bathroom! YAY! Oh shit! Now we need a new toilet and we are back to ONE functioning bathroom. Oh, I forgot...while breaking the tiles on this wall to smithereens, the mirror on the wall started fallling. Luckily, Tim was at home and answered my summons for assistance so the mirror is intact and ready for a frame so I can place it some where downstairs when all of this crap is finished.

I had thought that cleaning the tub painting the walls and tiling the floor would be sufficient in the beginning. Now I am tiling the floor, replacing the drywall and cement board in the tub, tiling the shower AND replacing the toilet. (Secretly, I want to rip out the vanity and replace it with a pedestal sink, replace all of the plumbing fixtures with oil rubbed bronze ones and replace the lighting as well). For those of you not in the know, this would not have been an issue last year. We both had excellent jobs with great pay. We were both laid off from our jobs and Tim has moved on from database administration to real estate (!) and I have taken a much lower paying job working from home doing technical support.

So, I haven't touched the master bathroom since the breaking of the toilet. I haven't so much as thought about doing anything else to the house. At this point, my main concern is saving the money to buy the drywall and cement board, finish that then tile the shower and floor and complete the master bath. I thought I could do it in sections...get the drywall first and finish that. Paint all the walls...then buy the cement board and get it up. Wait a couple of weeks and purchase the tile, adhesive and grout to finish the shower and the master bath would be complete...without all of the secretly wished for items.

I was happy to wait. Waiting gives you a chance to think about your options and colors and such. With the bathroom completely not on my mind, I turned my attention back to the kitchen. NO...not to change it in any way, shape or form. There was a horrible odor in the kitchen which was drawing the attention of fruit flies. I attributed the smell to the garbage disposal and knew that I must do something to get rid of the smell and the flies.

I had purchased some fresh flowers from the WalMart Neighborhood Market, and had a vase of carnations that were past their peak. I LOVE the smell of carnations. They remind me of the corsages that Mom bought me for piano recitals when I was younger. I thought that the carnations would kill whatever disgusting odor was emanating from the garbage disposal and all would be well. I should learn not to think.

I had a garbage disposal when I lived in North Carolina. I knew not to put celery down it because it's too stringy. I don't know if putting onions down there is an issue or not, but for some reason, I don't do it. Carnations however, I didn't know that this would be an issue. I turned on the water, shoved the carnations down the cavernous, black hole that is the disposal and flicked the switch. I heard the carnations being grounded to a pulp and saw them being sucked into the black hole. Then I saw water issuing forth from the black hole. I saw brown, icky water filling that side of the sink. SHIT! Can't I get anything right????

I retrieved the plunger from the bathroom and tried to remove whatever was blocking the drain. This resulted in brown water and stringy caranation remains freely flowing from the overflow from the dishwasher across the countertop, behind the faucet and above the sink to the windowsill. No matter how carefully I tried to plunge, the sludge would issue forth from the dishwasher overflow and the water in the sink did not budge.

After a bottle of Liquid Plumber Foaming Max and 24 hours later, the icky brown water remained in the sink. Oh there were air bubbles in the general area of the drain and my hopes were raised, but nothing moved. Shit, shit and again shit! Tim was off meeting with a prospective buyer couple. OK, I thought. I can do this. I removed all of my cleaning supplies from beneath the sink and viewed the connections to the disposal. I grabbed my trusty toolbox and started loosening connections, removing housings and finally rotating the disposal 360 degrees several times to get the damn thing off. Luckily, my bowl captured most of the icky, brown goo. (I also remembered to turn off the water before starting this!) I cleared the disposal of the stringy carnation remains. I used a plastic snakey thing to remove the crap from the drain pipe. I figured that I had done all I could do to get it fixed, then started looking online for replacement disposals. Holy crap...the least expensive one was like $79 and I can't buy the cheapest one because Papaw Brown always told me that you get what you pay for. Tim was going to be furious! I was furious!!!

Tim returned from his meeting and saw the empty sink and the various parts laying around and exhaulted about what a wonderful wife he was getting. A wife that knew how to take things apart and put them back together. Little did he know that I was sure that we were going to have to spend 200 bucks to get the blasted thing working again. We tried to work together to get the disposal back together. ----Note to anyone reading this blog----I do not work well with othersI was frustrated that he wasn't holding the disposal level so I could get it reattached. He was frustrated with me for being bitchy to him. Finally, he asked me for a few minutes alone, which is actually my usual request. I went outside to have a beer, smoke and deliberate on how long it was going to put off the bathroom project because of the expense of purchasing a new disposal. I heard the disposal start. At first I was horrified that Tim's hand might be being chewed up. (I didn't turn off the electricity to the disposal. I know this is DIY 101, but I figured I was beyond that!) I saw him through the kitchen window which was still sporting stringy carnation remains and he appeared to be intact.

I heard the disposal kick off and on a couple of times and finally, my curiousity won out and I went inside. Under the sink, everything was back in place. My exuberance was palpable. Tim was no where to be seen, so I hollered for him, hoping against hope that he was not in the one functioning bathroom bleeding all over the place. He hollered that everything was working fine except for a small leak. I fixed that up in a jiffy and tried it all out again. No leaking, disposal working fine without anything dispose of. I threw pieces of the last piece of pizza from the other night in the disposal and wonder of all wonders, they were eaten by the disposal and there were NO LEAKS!

I can't explain the happiness I felt at this point. All of my cleaning supplies are still in the kitchen floor waiting for a test run of the dishwasher, but somehow, I think we have managed a home repair without it resulting in a huge expense!! I am heading in now to empty the dishwasher and do a trial run with an empty machine, but I think we have managed the nearly impossible.

I know that I am blessed beyond words for Tim. He sees in me a person who can fix the unfixable...even if it results in ulcers for him because of the damage that has to be done in order to redo. I am just grateful that the sink works, we have 1 working bathroom and I have the most wonderful fiance in the world!

WTF happened to playing cards?

I've been reading various blogs by members of my family and I have to admit...I'm jealous. They are witty and intelligent. They make me literally laugh out loud. They make me think.

And what do I think? I think that my family is very cool. I think that if they were not family, these would be people that I would have for friends. But I also think..."I didn't know that?!?" or "Really???" but mostly they make me think, "Wow! Why don't I spend more time with these people? Why don't I ask more questions? Why do I waste hours playing Mafia Wars when reading Dwayne's blog is infinitely more entertaining?"

Both sides of my family are large, loud and like to spend time together. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized this is not normal. I know my great aunts and uncles. I have a great-great aunt that I see almost every year. I was blessed to have my great grandmother until I was in my 20s. I have met people in my adult life who barely know their aunts and uncles...let alone actually spend quality time with 3rd and 4th cousins. The Goldys and the Browns are different in a lot of ways...but both are, without a doubt, very close and loving families that I am proud to be a part of. (preposition at the end; sorry)

The best times spent with either side of my family are when the stories are told. No tall tales necessary here. Plenty of wackiness and hijinks without embellishment. Whenever a few of us gather, the rest are sure to be regaled with hillarious experiences.

So, not only does my family A) Love each other B) Like to spend time together but we also C) Have an absolute blast. I can honestly say that most of the best times of my life have occurred with my family. Camping trips, the Lots, playing cards, reunions...you name it.

Why in the heck don't we play cards anymore? What's up with that? Growing up, we did it all the time. I can remember first having the person whose lap I was sitting in point to the card for me to play for them, then graduating to guessing the correct card and looking back expectantly for the answer as to whether I was right or not to finally being my own player. All grown-up and playing cards by myself. And let's face it, I am my father's daughter so the crazier the bet the more I'm in...but we don't play anymore. WHY??? This needs to be rectified and soon. We have new generations coming up. They need to see this and be a part of the 2 AM evenings, listening to Papaw talk in his sleep on the couch while we're still betting on roll your own or follow the queen (I like Follow the Bitch better, but I don't want to offend anyone). What the hell, it's my blog. What happened to it being ok to have a beer or 3 at a family function? While I will agree that the smoke filled haze of the room will not be missed (I'm a smoker and even I hated that) the rest of my childhood memories of cards involved drinking, betting, a little swearing and A LOT of family fun.

I want to resurect poker, rook, spoons, 99...if you know the rules, we'll give it a shot. We don't have to wait for a holiday or an occasion. We can do it on a Tuesday...well, maybe we should stick to the weekend for those who have to work early on weekdays, but COME ON! You're not too old to schlep over to someone's house for the evening to play cards and tell tales. And if you are, we'll pick you up and get you home safely. The most important part is just to be there.