jiggity jig

While in North Dakota, we spent a lot of times engaging in one of the state’s most popular pastimes: hanging out in bars. I can assure you I’m not exaggerating or looking down my snooty city girl nose, because we were in a town of 300 souls for the majority of the time, and while there was no grocery store, or any store purveying any food besides candy, there were two bars doing a relatively brisk business. I did not drink in Granville, however. I also did not drink Friday night or Saturday night in Minot (where our hotel was.) I’ve been thinking about taking refuge, in the Tibetan Mahayana Buddhist sense, the next time the opportunity arises. This entails a series of vows, some of which are easy for me: don’t engage in irresponsible sexual behavior, and others of which are more difficult to follow, such as: don’t consume alcohol or intoxicants. MSH and I aren’t big drinkers, but he expresses some reservations about this step which I’m pondering, since I’ve been his occasional drinking buddy. Anyway, I decided I’d better try all this on for size because I don't want to take the vows and then fuck them up (because I am a perfectionist who holds myself to a high standard,) or take all of the vows except for that one. You can, but that just ain't my style. So this weekend I had some practice just saying no as it were. And saying yes to root beer and orange soda.

My observations:

While it was very hard for me to initially refuse drinks, I didn’t wish I was drinking the beer. Apparently beer seems more appealing once you’ve started sipping. Everyone else did seem to have more fun than I was because they were drinking. But this still didn’t make me want to drink. It made me realize that sitting around in a bar just isn’t as entertaining as I’ve always thought it to be while I was drinking. I kept thinking I’d prefer to avoid bars in future in favor of more entertaining and/or productive pursuits. Also: From the inside, bars look just about the same everywhere. Except for, you know, the chi chi ones. But those aren’t really bars, they’re “watering holes.”

That’s not to say I didn’t have fun getting to know Mike’s cousins; I did. This is just about the drinking of the booze. And I think I probably got a clearer idea of our initial connection to each other without the false camaraderie created by alcohol.

As I read this over, this all sounds very not me. But there you are.

In our absence, fall has fallen in Seattle, and I’m wriggling with pleasure. Crisp, cold air on my cheeks! The promise of apple cider and jack o lanterns! I will toast my pumpkin seeds this year. When I get home from work, I will unpack all my sweaters and put them in my dresser (but leave in a pair of shorts, just in case.)

Strangely, in North Dakota/western Minnesota, they had a cold, wet summer and reported that the sunny, 75 degree weekend we had was the best weather they’d had. They stole OUR summer! As a result, their harvest is late and sucky.

Bumper sticker just seen at the *U*Village: “VEGETARIANS DO IT WITH RELISH (but use a condiment)”

More on NoDak tomorrow.

P.S. Everyone we met was VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!!