Desperate in DC

Hot and Drunk? Yoga

Darling P,

I am a woman seriously considering a twelve step program.  Only, not really, b/c I just so couldn't do any of the amends stuff with anyone.  But I should.  You may recall that hubby, the cherubs and I were invited to the Country Club to attend fireworks with our generous friends who are members there.  Elder cherubs were actually asked to go as the hired help in order to assist dear friend with her much younger darlings.  Of course I was thrilled--making the cherubs earn their keep is, as you know, one of my not so secret pleasures.

Anyway, things proceeded quite nicely until the rain started to fall.  We were soaked and forced to move inside the CC where things were less warm and hospitable than one might imagine.  Eventually the sheets of rain lightened in intensity and we were able to move back outside.  But, of course, by this time, I had managed to consume at least three quite large cranberry and vodka drinks while watching my children chase after their own school mates they found at the Club, instead of minding their charges. 

Fireworks proceeded in all their glory and my almost teenage cherub actually spent the entire time snuggled in my lap.  With my five year with her grandparents out of town, I realized my elder girl may occasionally need physical affection.  Had another drink to force out thoughts of how often I had denied her same for so many years.

By the time bedtime finally arrived, I was fully convinced my usual 6:15 hot yoga class was still a stunningly good idea.  Once there, however, I realized that the vodka I had drunk just hours b/f might actually still be levelling off.  Not a particularly good fit with the headstand and wheel poses our nubile nineteen year old instructor chose for today.

So, dear P, you can see that your friend is in desperate need of help.  Instead of rehabilitation, however, I'm off to IKEA to furnish same elder daughter's new teenage bedroom.  I think this outing alone may convince me, even after the Excedrin have kicked in, that I should never drink again, or rather, I should never drink cheap vodka at the CC again. I think I can manage that far more successfully than a lifetime of sobriety.  Maybe.

C.

Re: Hot and Drunk? Yoga

Dear C,

Can't say I have attempted yoga after one too many, mainly because I would never dream of getting up at 5.45 a.m. after a going on a bender, but I do know the vodka and cranberry concoctions at the Club well. In general, I find they only improve my tennis game - or at least my perception of it - and they do lend a certain surreal feel to post-match drinks overlooking the putting green, which will often appear to levitate, after you've imbibed a few. The Club Cosmo is also the only way to survive the post match dinner in the Club dining room. How else could one stand to eat shrimp cocktail and prime rib (yet again) with Biffy, Muffin and Biggles, et al, while still dressed in sweaty tennis whites and shivering in the A/C?

But surely, dear C, the true test of the Club Cosmo's efficacy is its ability to persuade you to go through with your plans to hop in the family minivan and enjoy a fun day out at Ikea. Anyone lucky enough to have enjoyed this experience en famille will know that no-one in their right mind would attempt to embark on a journey that can only result in blood, sweat and the end of your marriage, after you attempt to maneuver Boxes 1, 2 and three into a car that's already teeming with cherubs. And that's even before you attempt to assemble your purchases, and discover that hubby failed to pick up Box number 4. Perhaps Ikea should sell Club Cosmos to go, along with their Swedish meatballs? Isn't that what they mean about drinking responsibly?

P.