Boa Constrictor

It's 9:00 pm on Friday night. C and I are outside Jazz Alley, black boots and trench coats on, swapping stories with a very opinionated lady from New Jersey. Spanish Harlem Orchestra has just rocked our minds for two hours. And then the Bat Signal illuminates the sky: BEER PONG AT ALLEY 24!

Dodging our way through the alley packed with the after show crowd, waving to salsa friends, the CRV carries us gently through the back streets of South Lake Union, following the signal. C makes sure we eat before we arrive on the penthouse level of Alley 24 to find beer pong games already in progress, the gentle rain not impeding either the speed of drinking OR the boa constrictor, who gets passed around like a heavy, moving necklace as we all want to hold her. She snuggles into our coats, trying to stay warm. Three hours later, we're shooting hoops in the park across the street and having the most fun I've had in some time, in spite of the fact that I can't dribble to save my life and S--who became my date after C left--totally shows me up.

The next day, C and I spend three hours jumping on mattresses before I accompanied her furniture shopping, with barely enough time to breathe in between shopping, dog-walking, and getting ready for a helluva party surrounding a much-hyped ski movie premiere. Movie: not great. I fall asleep on my neighbor's shoulder. Party: off the hook. There is much ridiculousness. Around all these events are many additional complications that my subconscious like to add just for fun, like: my phone died on Friday night at Spanish Harlem Orchestra and wasn't revived until the weekend was completely over. I forgot my original ticket for the movie premiere at home and had to send my neighbor to go get it while I held his spot in line, with no phone for last-minute coordination.

And then on Sunday I got to eat and breathe and to see my mother.

All in all, the weekend could not have been better. Plus I can now check "Play beer pong while wearing a snake" off my list of Life Goals.