Nice Weekend

I've sort of been taking a break from writing. Not on purpose, but just because I've been too lazy to write. I've been feeling very tired lately, probably due to IUD induced anemia. After having the IUD inserted, I had a period that lasted 12 days. It wasn't as heavy as my periods used to be, pre-IUD, but Jesus Christ in Prada, as Eric says, 12 days! This month, I'm on day 11 with no end in sight, but the flow is even lighter. I'm not sure I like this change. I've had almost no pain since getting the IUD, but it's wearisome, having the cycles last so much longer. It's like it just trickles now, taking longer for the same amount to come out. The biggest difference, though, is the lack of blood clots, which is odd considering that progesterone can cause clotting. I used to pass things that looked like grapefruits, but now, nada. At least I don't have a parasitic twin. Weyland and I caught a program last night about a fetus in fetu. Gross, but strangely fascinating.

I actually thought my period was over yesterday, and managed to coax Logan into bed in the late morning. We had a nice romp (after which I discovered he must have knocked something loose because my period started back up), then took a lovely nap together for almost two hours. When I woke up, Logan was smiling at me. I was about to tell him that I love him when he told me he could see the yellow feathers sticking out of my mouth. Apparently, I was smiling like the cat who ate the canary.

Saturday, Eric and I went for lunch at Pappadeaux where we had a pound of crawdads, a pound of peel and eat shrimp ("skrimp", Eric likes to call them), and a lobster and seafood salad, finished off by a nice slice of key lime pie. We then went to the Shamrock where we sat and burned copies (backup copies... yeah, that's it!) of each other's CD collections. I now have lots of Bauhaus, some Cabaret Voltaire, and some International Conspiracy Project. Eric's also going to send me some Chris and Cosey and some Skinny Puppy. Old stuff from our punk days. He got a real eclectic assortment from me, Edith Piaf, Leonard Cohen, and Bessie Smith.

After we were finished with that and had had a few drinks, we went to what used to be called 651 but is now called, I think, Hotshots, to go dancing. But the place was dead because all the queens were in Dallas for the gay rodeo. Eric was in one of his moods, but I refused to cooperate. I didn't want to go trolling the other dives on Jennings. I poured his butt in the Avalanche he borrowed from his mom, turned up Sisters of Mercy, and hit the highway. I was going to head back to the Shamrock, but Eric fell asleep on the way, so instead, I drove down Jacksboro Highway and did the loop. Well, partially. I drove 820 S all the way from where it intersects 199 to where it turns into I-20. Then I went south on I-35 and went home. Eric woke up when I pulled up to the curb. Since it was around 9 p.m., I went inside and cooked omelets for everyone, plain cheese for the kids, and asparagus, portabella mushroom, and onion for the grownups, which I served with some pecan smoked sausage, orange juice, and hot tea. Eric sobered up sufficiently after that to make his way home around 10:30 p.m. or so. All in all, it was a very pleasant weekend.