Day drunk on a Monday because Mondays have become our Sundays. The tides are big and the moon is full and the wind just won't quit out here and so the only thing to do is drink mulled wine until my eyes turn the color of blood and my heartbeat slows to a shitty trance-tune cadence and then I'm going to attempt to help with dinner. It's Gage's night but he traded off because of a headache and so he is resting and Lochlan and I are stepping in and will whip up a stirfry with rice and peppers and steak. Maybe garlic bread too. We are good like that, we make sure everyone is well fed. It's one of my rules. I've never ever been an eat-a-bowl-of-cereal sort of mom.
But I'm also not much help here. Being at least two sheets to the wind already, Lochlan won't let me hold a knife, or go near the stove, and so I have set the table, buttered the bread with garlic butter and have put out the good napkins too. I was allowed to measure out rice for the giant rice cooker (it's like space-ship sized, it's kind of hilarious) and now he would like me to 'be company' while he sears slices of steak and bell peppers and mushrooms in the big woks.
So fun.