I Was Punched In The Head By A Patriot

Saturday night, we spent some time at the Tiki Bar. Doc had purchased a 12-pack of Sam Adams as a special treat to share with out Tiki friends. He handed me a bottle and I took a tentative slug from it.

"Jeez!" I sputtered. "This beer bites back!"

It was very strong and there was a lot going on in my mouth, fizz and bitterness, a dark hoppy party. I managed to finish my beer, a true accomplishment for me no matter what the beer, in about 45 minutes and headed home to the comforts of a warm house.

It was probably 45 to 50 degrees outside at the Tiki Bar. They had a propane heater going, which brought the Tiki Temp to 80 degrees and I had on a long black coat with fun fur trim and red isotoner gloves. Still, I was cold. I had had my fill (not really) of revelry. And it was time to sack out to some Simon & Simon.

The next morning, as Riley was jabbing me awake with her finger, I opened my eyes and was struck by the feeling that the left side of my brain was trying to crowd the right. It was unbelievably uncomfortable. Also, as light found its way to my optic nerve, I noted a stabbing sensation to the front of my head, rounding out my symphony of pain.

I slunked out of bed and took some Tylenol, but that didn't do squat. I grumped around making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, getting endless glasses of milk and said to myself, "Fuck it. I need some serious pain relief if I'm going to make it through the day." Doc was working and it was just me and the girls. I went to the cupboard and grabbed a couple of old faithfuls: Alleve.

Before I knew it, I was up and around, cleaning the house, bathing the children, starting the laundry, doing the dishes, decorating the house for halloween, directing arts and crafts projects and potty training Lucy. I asked my parents over so I could go grocery shopping and they came! They helped me finish straightening up the house and watched the girls while I bought groceries at a somewhat leisurely pace. In the end, it all worked out for the best.

Thanks, Sam Adams, for punching me in the head, for reminding me what pain felt like and for reminding me what a boon feeling pain-free was. You are a true motivator.

But, forgive me if I don't drink your swill again.